#been staring at this for like twenty min

[chillyfeetsteak]

[jeysbvck]

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

-

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

-

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

-

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this. 

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

*

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

-

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

[highvern]

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that. 

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off. 

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you. 

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news. 

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass. 

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical. 

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation. 

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you. 

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his. 

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision. 

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery. 

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him. 

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?” 

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place. 

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom. 

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline. 

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch. 

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh. 

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy. 

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on. 

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him. 

“Fuc–Yoongi!” 

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits. 

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?” 

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.” 

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.” 

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool.  “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.” 

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing. 

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.” 

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.” 

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out. 

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!” 

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi.” 

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

 “I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off. 

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy. 

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it. 

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again.  “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?” 

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off. 

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

[linlinaert]

The last soulmate : chapter 2

Yandere! ot8! Skz x soft! fem! reader

Minho's POV:

We took off into different areas, aiming to find our last piece, and as I went into the direction I aimed for, I felt as if a piece of me is drifting little by little, that led me to know that they are not here, I tried so hard to hold myself from sprinting in another direction to look for them. I interacted a little with the fans then went to hannie. A bit later Chan hyung came looking on edge, it doesn't appear too much on his face but I can pinpoint it when his angry or stressed or any other emotion, cause that's what we're here for after all.

He came to where I was standing and laughed with the fans a little bit, he then came closer to me and whispered in my ear.

"I've found her, min." Chan whispered which made my eyes widen for a fraction of a second then quickly composed myself, remembering that I'm still Infront of fans, then I looked at him.

"Her? She? A girl?" I asked cautiously as if someone will hear us and understand, it was shocking to me to hear that our last piece was a girl, cause we just predicted that since the eight of us are males, the last one would also be a he, but i guess fate has other plans, and I was getting exited.

"Yes, min." Chan-hyung said, he smiled at me, "she's over there, go and see her and I'll tell the rest, and she doesn't know that we're soulmates, she didn't understand the pull, oh, and I'm warning you, she's too beautiful you might get blind" he added, then I raised my eyebrows at him, he's already smitten, even though he didn't even get to talk to her yet. I nodded then took off into the direction he came from, as he went to hannie and the rest.

I stopped and waved to the fans, I felt it, she was here, I looked around and saw it, the most enchanting (e/c) orbs I've ever seen, there she was, our last piece, she looked at me with a cute little frown on her pretty face, oh god does she look so innocent and pure, she looks like the type to get hurt from even the wind, how did she survive in this cruel world without us, i can't believe she lived all those years without our protection and care, I can't imagine how many hopeless guys tried to court her, I felt a vein pop in my head, she's always been ours, even if we weren't there with her, no one has the right to be near her, then I saw a hand wrapped tightly around her shoulders, my eyes widened, i looked to her side only to see a guy in his twenties glaring at me with his hand around MY soulmate, MY GIRL, how dare he, the audacity he has to glare at me while touching our girl, i glared at him back, then a hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality, I turned to see changbin and Felix, who looked at me with a look that says "don't forget that we're in a concert", so I turned back then posed with them for the fans, as they looked at her, they had the same reaction as me, who can blame them, no one expected our last soulmate to be a beautiful lady, i helped them to stay in touch with reality and not get too carried away, and one by one we all had seen her, and we all had one thought in our mind, what the hell is that guy to her?

Y/N pov :

As the concert went on I was certain that all eight of them had eye contact with you, I can't help but think that they are coming in this direction way too much, but maybe I'm only overthinking, but whenever they came this way, my heart feels like a ball of emotions, I feel so happy, and whenever they made eye contact with me, I felt like blushing and hiding somewhere.

Through out the concert, I felt jack's hand wrapping tightly around me, I looked at him, I didn't know why he was acting like this, but maybe it was because of the stares I was getting from the boys, he brought my head to lay on his shoulder or chest more than once, not that i complain, it was comfy.

~~~~~~~~~

After the concert ended,we headed home, we ordered dinner and ate, and the next morning, we went to the fanmeeting, jack was tagging along with us, me and Lucia were discussing yesterday's performance, with jack laying his head on my shoulder, and playing with my fingers.

The fanmeeting started and we were going down the line to get to the boys, my turn came and I sat Infront of the first one that I had learnt his name was Han Jisung, he was looking down at first, and then when he looked up and looked me straight in the eyes, I felt as if my whole body was on flames, beautiful flames, electric shocks went down my body, i couldn't take my eyes off of his, they looked like they hold the whole universe and more, Jisung was like me, but he looked like he knew what was happening, he then smiled softly.

"Hi there, pretty." He said softly, getting me out of my daze, I blushed hard making him chuckle, and I looked down.

"Hi" I whispered, as he took the album from my hand to sign it.

"And what is this beauty called?" He asked looking at me smugly, and I blushed, it's so hard not to when a handsome man is flirting with you like that.

"Y/N" I said, then he quickly signed it writing a bit more on the page then proceeding to close it and put it aside, while I was playing with my fingers, he then looked at me and took my hand in his, this sent a jolt of electric shocks through me, I looked at him shocked, and he only smiled.

"So Y/N do you have a boyfriend?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung's POV :

"Bye~~~" I said to one of the fans as she moved to hyunjin beside me, I looked down at my bracelet playing with it a little until I felt someone sitting Infront of me, I looked up only to freeze, it was her, our last piece, our girl, she really came, we were going to go look for her after the fanmeeting, but she's here now, I felt my body burning up in flames as her beautiful orbs stared into mine, she's more beautiful up closer, I smiled softly at her.

"Hi there, pretty." I said with a soft tone, unlike the hyper tones I use most of the time, something in me is telling me she's a big sensitive softie, she blushed, oh my gosh, she's so cute, I couldn't help but chuckle at her cuteness, I'm barely containing myself from getting overhyped as to not scare her away, my leg is bouncing under the table from my excitement, then I heard a small voice, and i realised it's hers, and oh my god isn't it so sweet.

"Hi" she said barely as a whisper and I literally felt myself melting, I gently took the album from her hands, I opened it to sign then I realised that I still don't know her name, so I looked at her and asked her for her name flirtatiously.

"And what is this beauty called?" I looked at her waiting eagerly to know the name of my last soulmate, I saw her blush and say "Y/N" I didn't waste time and signed the album for her, our Y/N, even her name is beautiful, I felt someone glaring daggers at me so I subtly glanced at my right side only to find that it's the same guy from yesterday, the one who dared to put his hands on our girl, I returned the glare without anyone but him noticing then I wrote my number on her album with a "your handsome soulmate" on the side then I closed it and looked up at her again, she was playing with her fingers on the table, not looking at me, ah i think I'm gonna die from her cuteness, I took her little hand gently in mine, and I instantly felt as if I was in heaven, she looked at me shocked so I smiled at her, then I felt the glares again so I asked her, hoping that I get a negative answer.

"So Y/N do you have a boyfriend?" I said knowing that her being alone for too long, could make her think that she's alone and she could get a boyfriend, and the thought alone makes me rage, but who can blame her, the blame is on us for not finding her earlier and on the said boyfriend, if there's any, to think that he can take somebody else's soulmate.

I felt hyunjin's leg hitting me underneath the table, but I didn't care, not when that damn motherfu-ker has the audacity to touch my girl and challenge me in public, I heard her pretty voice denying that she has any.

"N-no, I don't, why are you asking?" She said softly, her eyebrows frowning in confusion, then I smiled, thinking of how to break it to her.

"I wouldn't want my sweet soulmate to have a boyfriend now would I ?, and neither would want the rest of us" I said winking, and I saw her stop functioning for a second, then she blinks and looked at me with a shocked face

"What---" she said but she was cut off by the manager as he said that the time was up, and ushered her to hyunjin a bit harshly making both me and hyunjin glare at him, but before I opened my mouth to knock some sense into his head, another fan sat Infront of me, so I forced a smile on my face and made a note to talk to him later.

Author's note : hi there everyone!!! It's a little chapter showing our dear minsung's thoughts 🤭🤭, I feel like it's a bit plain but I really hope you will like it and love you all 💕

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[illumnis]

your presence is my dream. ― you are the light he follows in the dark to find safety, you are the lighthouse that provides him comfort when he's lost in the cruel sea, you are what he connects to others; the good traits and the bad traits- you are what encourages him to love freely, anything and everything. so what's so bad about admiring an angel at work?

pairing: var!genshin men x gn!reader (seperate!!)

warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff (unedited!!)

note: i'm writing this on my dad's macbook so this is like foreign ground for me,, the formatting might be a little weird. ALSO i haven't written in a hot min so i'm def going to be out of practice!! i’m sorry in advance if this work is not to my usual standards <;/3

art creds: dannylailai on artstation

it wasn't that your boyfriend was disturbed by the sudden interruption to your date. at first, of course, he was shaken up and slightly disappointed, but seeing the way you lit up was enough to settle his nerves.

your passion, your drive, and the simple notion to never let your love stay caged within a set of limbs, you loved, and freely at that. when he first met you, it scared him a little- how easily you found it to share a piece of your heart with the world. how willing you were to let things break your heart and to forgive because; that will be how it will be.

with you, he learned. with you, the world has become twenty times more colourful (as cliche as it sounds).

despite how much he has learned, to love every piece of the world ardently, he still manages to save the admiration for you.

though, he'll never admit that despite how much he appreciates every patch of grass, or blooming flower, or wise tree, he'll always find you the most breathtaking.

your eyes lit up with fervour- you were reminiscing about something with such passion to your old friend who had welcomingly interrupted his and your date.

he decides to listen in for a moment, still keeping gentle eyes drifting around your face. the curve of your lips, the glisten in your eyes, the tint of your skin.

if he wasn't delighted by you already, now he'd really have a field day.

"yeah! i don't think i missed anything... hey, do you remember anything from our first date that i missed?" you wonder, your head tilting in his direction and looking at him with not-so-sercret admiration.

he felt his heart soar, he tries to maintain his composure with an utterly content smile. he's scared that if he let's his resolve fall, his smile will reach as high as the clouds.

you had been talking about him with that fervour. he had been the reason for the twinkle of mirth in your eyes. he had been the cause of this avid passion.

the two of you stare at each other for a second. you, still expecting a response, hum and tilt your head in anticipation. at the slightest, he let's his smile twitch upwards.

the beat of your heart picks up as you catch his gaze drifting from your eyes, to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

in his eyes, a luster of affection dancing through his irises, which only makes you fight off the reverent grin that tries to mold it's way onto your lips.

he then breaks his gaze, looking over at your friend politely, the same passion you held evident on his eyes, but not his face.

he then looks back at you and once again, his smile grows at the sight of you, "no, i think you covered it all."

— boys who (begrudingly or not) admit that your mere presence is enough to enliven him- or in other words; idiots in love: childe, lyney, tighnari, kaveh, kazuha, wanderer, alhaitham, neuvillette, heizou, zhongli, kaeya, baizhu, albedo, wriothesley (I CAN LITERALLY SEE SO ANY PPL HELP)

navi. mlist.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

talk | myg | nyangnyang au

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your husband Min Yoongi declares that he needs to be more of a whore. Nyan?!

warnings: discussion about sex life; husband!Yoongi x wife!reader with their pet white cat Nyangnyang; heavy make-out session; domestic + fluffy; nyangnyang!au but can be read alone tbh it's just a husband and wife chatting about their sex life + the antics of their peanut gallery lol

--

You didn’t quite believe in soulmates or fate, but you were sure that Min Yoongi was the love of your life.

“I think I need to be more of a whore.”

Precisely why.

Wait, what?

You looked up from wiping down the coffee table and stared at him.

“What?”

“Nyan.”

Your husband was sitting on the sofa. An attempt to rest, except the furball you both affectionately called cutie had immediately rocketed into his lap and began rolling around, loudly demanding pets and leaving white fur all over your husband’s black sweatpants. Nyangnyang the cat had zero concept of personal space. Your husband had a problem with saying no to those he loved. Her head was in his large palm as the other rubbed her belly. White fur was getting everywhere. Loud purrs punctuated the silence.

“Do you think our sex life is boring?” was Yoongi’s follow-up on his previous declaration.

You folded up the polishing cloth and left it on the glass table, figuring this was going to be more than a yes-or-no conversation. Strands of black hair fell past his temples, framing his black metal glasses and sharp dark brown eyes. He looked at you with a calm expression as if he was talking about the weather and not about how he thought he needed to be more of a whore.

You paused. “I don’t think so, but I figured the slowdown was because you worked on that important album. You said it was very emotionally draining.” Your husband was a music producer. He wasn’t allowed to talk about what he was working on, which was why he told his wife everything. Hey, his primary loyalty was to his wife. That and you weren’t going to tell a soul anyway. That would require social interaction. Ew. “You’ve been sleeping a lot and watching TV all day even after you wrapped it up.”

Nyangnyang rolled around and covered Yoongi’s thighs with more snow-white cat hair. You used to keep a lint roller in the living room until Yoongi realized the cat had been knocking it down and licking the sticky paper like an adhesive heathen. Then you switched to other types of lint-and-fur collectors. The cat still licked the tacky parts. Sigh. Now they had to be kept in the closet. You and Yoongi just accepted that you both would be covered in cat hair twenty-four-seven.

Welp.

He accepted the fluffy tail smacking his stomach and scratched behind Nyangnyang’s ears while watching you carefully. At least his baggy t-shirt was white. You stayed kneeling on the floor, curiously tilting your head, positioned on the other side of the smoked glass and black marble coffee table.

Finally, Yoongi sighed. “I think I need to try harder. I’m feeling outdone by you lately.”

You frowned. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

For some reason, the cat stood up, circling Yoongi’s lap again before flopping down. You noticed his pale hand hover over his nuts before Nyangnyang threw herself down again with a dramatic princess floof. You could relate.

Heh.

His eye twitched. “Watch it,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

The cat gave no fucks and shoved her pink nose into Yoongi’s palm.

“What about last night?” you continued. “You came four times. Your dick felt great.”

Your husband gave you the side-eye. “You know, there’s a person attached to this dick.”

You grinned.

He scoffed. “Just because you were into the dick doesn’t mean you were into me.”

Your grin disappeared. “What are you talking about? I only think about you during sex. There’s no one else I want to think about.”

But as soon as the words came out of your mouth, you could tell that wasn’t what Yoongi was getting at. He stuck his tongue into his cheek and his brows furrowed, glancing away for a moment to collect his thoughts. His hand on the cat’s belly stopped. Nyangnyang, being a little shit, kicked his wrist with her back paws. His hand started moving again without looking. The furball went back to purring up a storm. Your husband winced and tried not to show it. Despite his longer, lustrous hair and slender frame, Min Yoongi was a manly man at heart that enjoyed woodworking, basketball, and UFC as much as he enjoyed music, fashion, and picking out aesthetic living room pillows.

“I’ve been relying a little too much on you being sexy and leading everything without contributing myself,” he finally said, sounding a bit rueful in his deep and raspy voice.

You heavily restrained chiming in that all he needed to contribute was an open mouth and a hard dick. Good commentary, wrong timing. It was pretty clear what he was saying and it was pretty clear that you should shut up for now and listen.

Difficult for a smartass, but you’d manage.

“I don’t feel that you’re having the same experience I am. Just because you like being in charge doesn’t mean I should step back,” he went on, verbally working through his thought process and letting you in on it. You were a bit surprised hearing those words, as it was word-for-word something you mentioned before, although that was years ago when something similar happened. It had been you to bring it up then. He listens, huh. Yoongi ticked his head, his glasses reflecting light. “I feel I’ve gotten a little lazy. And, with it, been too in my head recently. I don’t like this feeling. I’m not performing well. I need to be more into it.”

It was a first for him to be so direct about this. Usually, you would bring it up for some reason or the other. He was always willing to talk about it, but, well. You had always had a more… intense… libido compared to Yoongi and, although some would argue it was a good problem to have, he often had to rise to the occasion (pun intended). Something he wanted to do and did so without hesitation, but that also meant that he was more sensitive to his own intrusive thoughts whereas you were too absorbed with fucking to notice any. Sex was when you were free, yet Yoongi had reasonable worries that interfered sometimes. You had sensed the tension last night and figured some fucking would help relax him. But it turned out the issue related to sex itself. Welp. Still, it was nice to hear him communicate with you.

“So… how would being a whore help?” you asked.

Another bombastic side-eye. “I meant being more actively involved into the sex. Acting like one.”

You raised an eyebrow with a straight face even though you were cackling inside. “Do you even know how to act like a whore? You’ve never been slutty in your entire life.” Added a little dismissive hand wave with your act. Just to be extra infuriating. “You think acting like a slut is so easy? Darling, being a whore is a way of life.”

Yoongi stared at you.

Blank expression.

“You’re so freaking annoying.”

The tip of your tongue grazed the edge of your smirk.

“Naow…”

Your husband rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Hot. Nyangnyang seemed to sense the kind of tension a cat wanted no part of and promptly abandoned Yoongi’s lap, marching off to laze somewhere else. Not that her parents noticed because they were too busy making googly eyes at each other.

“It’s the middle of the day,” Yoongi said quietly.

“Time of day never stopped a whore,” you countered.

His expression was a mix between pained and irritated. Perfect. Heavy sigh, halfway lifting himself off the couch before you started laughing, breaking the tension.

“I’m kidding,” you chuckled, flippant, standing up as well. “Have you gotten a little lazy? Hmm, maybe. But maybe I’ve been overbearing too, since all I think about is enjoying your dick until I’m worn out. I probably shouldn’t go that far, hah… Yoongi?”

He grabbed your wrist.

You paused, fixating your gaze on him. His direct stare. Dark eyes shadowed behind clear lenses. Gleaming porcelain skin. You were both in casual clothes for lounging at home. Your lavender sweatpants with a matching crop top weren’t exactly screaming sex. But, of course, you would confess that you always made sure to cress cutely for yourself.

You frowned. “We haven’t showered yet.”

He shrugged. He had reasonably broad shoulders for such a pretty face. Fucking sexy as hell. You were allowed to think that because you were his wife. “You don’t have to go down on me.” Then he let go of your wrist to reach behind your head and tilt it back, the base of your skull against the heel of his palm.

“What?”

Then you sucked in a tight breath as you felt the tip of his hot tongue slide up your neck.

His warm breath spread over your skin, sending a wave of chills throughout your chest.

“Didn’t you tell me sex is more than just the orgasm?” he murmured, heating the saliva clinging to your throat. “I completely agree.”

Under normal circumstances you would have had the smartass comment ready, was this the right situation to admit that the wife was always right, but you didn’t even have a chance to glance at him before his lips started feathering up the side of your neck, his deft hands in your hair, licking, kissing, his familiar scent invading your nose, his soft black hair against your cheek, every action tantalizing your senses.

It was then that you realized, yes, you did miss this.

As a married couple that lived together, you both had the luxury of skipping steps. You could get into the action any time and that was exciting in its own right. You also had the natural tendency to immediately get into it, using everything in your arsenal all at once. Speed, accuracy, precision, multiple sensations all over, forcing all of your past lovers to chase to keep up with you and not giving them time to react or prepare themselves. There wasn’t much time to pull on the leash, so to speak.

A whore always wanted to have sex, right?

So, acting like one meant…

Your hands slipped under his t-shirt and pulled him closer by the small of his back.

His teeth nicked the space under your ear and you shivered before moaning, feeling the tingling sensation of sucking skin and soft lips. It really was delightfully pleasant to be caught off guard by your favorite person.

“You… You’re saying I act like a whore…?” you gasped, still playing around.

His lips grazed your ear. Voice low, direct.

“You’d be one if I didn’t catch you and shackle you with a ring.”

Touché.

“What’s wrong with that?” you bit back.

He moved his head and you gazed at each other with one eye, lashes framing dark orbs that were the window to knowing each other far too well.

“Nothing. That’s why I’m trying to be more like you,” Yoongi purred.

Your lower halves collided. Layers of clothing and heated friction, his hardness pressing against your thighs, and then his lips caught yours in a fervent kiss. No different in the level of passion but you could tell he was different from last night. More mindful depth. Only focused on the moment. Tongue against tongue. His hands all over, sliding up into your hair and down your shoulder, gasping into your throat as your fingernails turned inward, scratching down his back mid lip-lock.

“Nyao!”

There was a flurry of wild flailing sounds and then a thud.

You both stopped kissing to stare into the bedroom. The door was open, as it usually was. A whizzing snow-white blur shot out of sight. The bed was partially visible from this angle. The right lower corner of the covers was messy and pulled out. You stared at it, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened, still clutching your husband in your death grasp.

You blinked slowly.

“Nyangnyang, did you…”

“… Fail to jump onto the bed?” Yoongi finished for you with just as much disbelief in his voice.

Absolute silence.

“Hasn’t she made that jump hundreds of times?” you wondered out loud.

Yoongi grumbled. You turned your head back. He shrugged.

“Maybe it’s a sign to move to the bed.”

Hmmmm. You didn’t miss the want in his otherwise bland tone. “Why rush?” You let go of him even though your husband’s eyes were narrowing to death glare status. “It’s the weekend. We have all day. Besides, the rice will be done soon, so we should eat lunch.” As a very devious wife, you could tell Yoongi did not want to play this game but he also wanted you to give in first. He kept a firm hand on your waist.

“Hm, you’re right.”

“Yup,” was your chipper reply.

He gave you this look.

You grinned. Waved your finger as you chided him. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you dessert is after your meal? You can’t spoil your appetite with suga beforehand.” You bared the brunt of a criminally offensive side-eye. Worth it.

Then, Yoongi smiled.

Uh oh.

You had been with Yoongi long enough to know that behind that simple smile was a lot of cunning.

“But of course, my love.”

Well, a lazy Saturday just got a lot more interesting.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[eoieopda]

lacuna (knj)

lacuna (n): a blank space, a missing part

In his twenty-eight years, Kim Namjoon had made countless mistakes. Most of them were insignificant and could be shoved easily enough into the back corner of his mind. The worst of them were all tied for first place, keeping him up at night.

Loving you, losing you, and now – picking up the phone. 

Pairing: Ex!Kim Namjoon x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot (Angst, Smut - 18+ or else.) Word Count: Like, 7K (?!) Content: ex-boyfriend au; exes to something?; literally so much angst; yearning; pov switches; oral sex (f receiving); unprotected sex; p in v penetration; cursing; texts from Yoongi. A/N: For reasons unknown, I decided to break my own heart today! The lyrics you'll see below are from "Sooner" by The Low Blow. There's also a reference to one of my favorite tv shows at the end - did you catch it? (1/9/23) The sequel, Redamancy, is finally here! (3/17/23) There is now a playlist 🥲

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, your weary, unfocused eyes stared somewhere in the vicinity of Min Yoongi. Shrouded all in black, you nearly assumed he was your sleep paralysis demon, hunched over his keyboard with his eyes narrowed in thought – but you hadn’t slept much at all lately. Not with your deadline looming overhead like the sword of Damocles. 

He relayed what was already looping through your brain. “It’s missing something.” 

You scrubbed your hands over your face, too burnt out to care if your foundation stayed where it was supposed to. “I know,” was all you said, though it wasn’t all you were thinking. Listening to this demo – this crushing song about love lost – you knew what was missing.

Or rather, who. 

Once again reading your mind, Yoongi spoke with a wary sigh. This time, he said the quiet part out loud. “Listen, I know that on a personal level, this is a terrible idea. But if you really want this track to ache –” 

“I’ll call him.” 

Yoongi turned to look at you over his shoulder. He, like you, hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; but his surprise still managed to crack through an otherwise impassive expression.

“You sure you want to be the one?” His frown was microscopic, but it was there and it bruised. “I have to hit him up, anyway, so I can handle this for you.” 

You’d never told him – or any of your friends, come to think of it – the details of your whatever it was with Namjoon. You couldn’t call it a breakup; that would necessitate a relationship. You couldn’t comfortably assign that word to this indescribable something.

But maybe that’s precisely why it hurt to breathe when you thought too hard about it. Maybe the thing that burned in your lungs was the fact that whatever it was wasn’t much of anything at all. 

The universally known narrative was that you met Kim Namjoon at a release party two years prior. After years of putting out extended plays, he was dropping his highly anticipated, full-length masterpiece.

That’s what your label called it; that’s what the press called it; but you couldn’t agree. That word wasn’t heavy enough – it didn’t give due credit to the pieces of himself he broke down and buried within those twelve tracks. You felt seen when you heard it. When you saw him, it was game over. 

As the story goes, you went home with him that night. While true, it was the tiniest fragment sitting sharp at the tip of an iceberg. The rest was an ill-equipped ship, sailing in slow-motion through the dark. 

He'd spent the entirety of his celebration focused on you. What you thought; what you wanted for yourself; what made that tipsy, uninhibited giggle come flying out of your chest. And then, holding his hand like it’d been tailor-made for yours, you followed his lead out of there while confused partygoers murmured in your wake. 

He fucked you like he knew you – on a cellular level – and he looked at you like you were all there was. You’d spent the entirety of the following day there, draped over him or nestled underneath him. You were never not touching in some way – in the little interludes of sleep; while cooking a breakfast too big for the two of you alone; on every surface of his apartment. 

He changed your life in those twenty-four hours, but not enough for it to stick. 

You’d spent as much time with him as you could in the year afterward, until your twin ambitions sent you both rocketing in other directions. Your various obligations never allowed you to be in the same place for long; and when they did, it was over too soon. No amount of time would ever feel like enough, but half a day, here and there, felt like a cosmic joke.

Like the universe was punishing you for wanting everything, all at once. 

Eventually, you came to a fork in the road. His career, though international, was rooted in Korea – home. Yours took you to Los Angeles, to a vastly different time zone, and a schedule that refused to make space. And you tried, but when it came down to choosing – idling together or racing forward alone – your respective dreams were so heavy that they tipped the scales.  

Neither of you could blame the other. After all, you’d both made the same decision. There was some small comfort in knowing that he understood you. That consolation couldn’t keep you warm at night when you’d instinctively reach out and find half of your bed still empty.

It would’ve been so much easier to live without him if there was some horrible betrayal to pin it all on, but he was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him. 

Shaky legs pushed you off the ground. Without meaning to, you groaned as your body returned to its regularly scheduled programming. Yoongi simply muttered, “Same,” as he made additional adjustments in his editing software.

You affectionally touched your knuckles to his shoulder as you passed by, though you quickly realized this gesture wasn’t made to comfort him. 

You shut the door softly behind you and headed up the hallway. Having kicked off and subsequently lost your shoes several hours ago, you padded in socked feet across the hardwood. The pattern – the various evolutions of Eevee – clashed so blatantly with the extravagance around you. Glancing down, you chuckled. At least some parts of you were still recognizable. 

The door to the stairwell creaked as you pushed it open and ducked inside. No longer camped out in the soundproof studio, you could hear the smattering of raindrops as they pummeled the exterior walls of the building. Somewhere between a drum roll and machine gun fire, you couldn’t figure out if the noise emphasized or relieved your anxiety. 

Gently, you lowered yourself down on a step halfway up the flight. As you stared down at your phone, your knee bounced of its own volition.

For once, you were thankful for the seventeen-hour time difference. This was the kind of call you needed to make at midnight, but one you didn’t want him receiving at midnight. It felt so much safer in daylight.

At least one of you had eyes on the sun. 

You’d deleted his number from your phone months ago because you thought it might help you let go. It didn’t. And to make matters worse, you still knew it by heart. As you typed it out easily, you wished this realization surprised you. You also wished that you’d catch him at a bad time, so you could simply leave a message. 

You’d never been lucky, though, had you?

Namjoon was half-asleep at a café table when the vibration of his phone against the wrought metal snapped him out of it. In his under-caffeinated daze, he couldn’t determine what that unbearable grinding noise was.

He could, however, see the way the elderly woman nearby was scowling at him. He furrowed his brows and blinked back at her; silently asking what the fuck her problem was. Just as silently, she pointed an angry, wrinkled finger to his tabletop. 

By the time his brain kicked into gear, he was too late. He picked up his now-quiet phone and nearly dropped it in an instant when he saw your name tied to a missed call.

He didn’t think twice before returning it – he should have – having figured there was only one way to know if he was truly hallucinating. You picked up immediately in a voice so you that he couldn’t have imagined it. He knew because he'd already tried.

“Hey.” 

People who didn’t know you often mistook the natural rasp of your voice for tiredness, but he did know you. You were beyond exhausted, more so than the last time he’d heard from you. Five months and twenty-one days ago.

This sounded like another all-nighter; like you got so consumed in creating that you couldn’t sleep until you finished. Remembering you like this opened a black hole in his chest – all this fondness with nowhere to go, collapsing in on itself, pulling.

What kind of masochist was he, voluntarily subjecting himself to this conversation? 

“Hey,” He croaked. Even his voice didn't know what to do. 

He heard shuffling on your end. You always pinned your phone between your right ear and shoulder to start — he immediately recognized the sound of your hair against the receiver when you switched it to your left side. Vanilla and honey flooded his nose despite the thousands of miles that separated him from the scent of your shampoo. 

There were a thousand questions spinning dizzy in his mind, but he couldn’t untangle them to spit one out. The longer you both remained quiet, the worse it got – and the worse he felt for his silence. Even without seeing you, he knew that your brows were knitting together. He knew that quiet made you feel too exposed. 

Namjoon cleared his throat to speak at the same moment you asked, “How are you?” His words echoed, a half-second from being uttered in unison. 

He prayed to any god that he’d stop feeling so nervous. There was no reason to be, not with you. You were his comfort zone, his safe space and – oh. Past tense.

Presently, you were – what, exactly? Could he call you an “ex” if you’d never had a title? It all felt too juvenile, hearing people whisper about his girlfriend. You were –fuck – You were home, and now his house was haunted.

A ghost. 

“I’ve been good,” he said quickly, planting a hollow smile on his face that wouldn’t have convinced you if you were there. Liar, liar, liar. “Busy. You sound –” 

“Awful?”

“– like you’ve been working all night.” 

He heard a sheepish chuckle and his clumsy, thudding heart went flying off into the void.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” you admitted in a voice so tiny he nearly missed it, “And I wouldn’t be – I promise – if I could’ve bothered anyone else with this. This one, though… when I hear it in my head, I can’t imagine anyone –” 

“Say less.” 

It slipped out of him automatically. He couldn’t stop it. Now it was dangling there in dead air where he couldn’t reach it and shove it back down his throat. He must have said that to you a thousand times, giving you whatever you needed before you could even finish asking.

This was the first time he’d ever said it without punctuating it with a kiss to your forehead, though. And now, his equilibrium was off, like the staircase had one less step than he was expecting. 

When you finally broke the silence, he could’ve sworn he heard you sniffle, but he quickly kicked that thought back into the cage it escaped from. Your voice didn’t sound sad at all, so you couldn’t have been crying. Why would you be?

“I can have Yoongi send you what we have so far, lyrics too. If you’re interested, just let me know – verse, bridge, whatever you want.” 

“You’re with Yoongi?” 

It came out exactly as he hadn't intended – accusatory. It was no business of his who you spent time with, professionally or otherwise. And it didn’t even surprise him that Yoongi would stick around after the – whatever it was. All your shared friends stayed shared. His confusion was solely that Yoongi never mentioned working with you, let alone flying stateside to do so. 

Why hadn’t Yoongi said something? Did he assume Namjoon wouldn’t be interested in hearing about your project? Because he would - he kept up with all of your releases, even if it hurt. Was he scared that the mere mention of you would exacerbate the tailspin Namjoon was barely surviving?

Or was it something else? 

“Yeah, he got here a few days ago. I offered to send the vocals to him, but he said he wanted In-N-Out,” Your laugh, even under the weight of your sleepiness, still packed a punch. “Might be the longest trip anyone’s ever made for animal-style fries.” 

Namjoon felt like he was going to pass out, but for your sake, he tried to echo your laugh. “Sounds like he’s got his priorities in order, as usual.” 

That uncomfortable silence crawled back in and settled in the space between you. It never used to be like this. His mouth remained open as if his broken brain could think of a single thing to say. There were hours in every second that passed, but he didn’t hang up – and neither did you. 

“So, if I figure something out, I can shoot it back over –” 

You interrupted this time.

“No need,” You chirped. You must’ve sensed that his train of thought now consisted only of question marks because you dove right back in, “I’ll be in Seoul at the end of the month, so we can put all the pieces together then.” 

Please be speaking metaphorically. Please say – 

“I’ve gotta hop off now, but it was –” Your voice petered out at the end of your statement, and he didn’t know what to do within the pause.

What pleasantry would you settle on to end this conversation? Was it nice to hear from him, or did you also feel like you’d walked through the emotional equivalent of a car wash?  

It was heavy when you exhaled the amendment, hitting the ground with a thud that could’ve knocked him over.

It was torture, and it drop-kicked him into the abyss at full-speed. No light above, no hope below. A black hole that he kept selfishly refusing to close – all because he answered your call. 

“Thank you, Joonie.” 

Fuck. He was doomed.

You spent a shocking percentage of your life on international flights. It was a privilege – you knew it – to travel to the extent that you did, but it was so lonely.

If you were flying, there were two justifications. The first was the most common – touring. You’d touch down in cities all over the world, stay for a few hours, and then you’d leave again as soon as you could blink.

Your interactions were limited, either one-sided conversations from a stage; or facilitated entirely by a local translator. Never truly connecting, missed phone calls and texts sent too late to get a response. The same stale conversations with the crew that had been stuck with you for months. 

The second was less common, and somehow even lonelier – visiting a home that was no longer yours. 

It always went the same way. You’d touch down at the Incheon International Airport in your home country and feel just as foreign as the tourists bustling around you. You’d gather a suitcase’s worth of belongings and try not to think about the fact that they – and everything else you owned – once lived there, too. You’d hit customs and then, as a reward, snag yourself some boba from the café on your way out the door. 

In all those trips, you’d never once hailed a cab because Namjoon was always waiting. You’d hear him before you saw him with how loud he kept his car’s stereo, but when you did finally lay eyes on him, you’d light up like a sparkler. He’d shower you with affection – publicly, despite his usually private nature – and swap out the luggage in your hands for some thoughtful surprise. Flowers, usually, after painstaking deliberation over the meaning he wanted to convey. 

Now, you stood on the sidewalk with your empty hand in the air. 

Shortly after settling into your cab, you fell asleep. The person who would have gently scolded you for taking this risk wasn’t there to do so. Instead, you woke up stiff and disoriented to the sound of your driver honking his horn. You quickly learned that he wasn’t honking at traffic; he was honking at you with a scowl on his face. 

“Time to go! Wake up – your stop!” 

He was speaking in English, so it took you a few moments to determine whether you were dreaming. Impatient, he honked again.

Did he think you were a tourist? Was he right?

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you threw the door open and hurled yourself out. You ran to the trunk, snatched your suitcase, and tried not to remember that you didn't used to have to do this part yourself.

Yoongi had the foresight to give you a spare keycard before leaving California, so you were able to get into his building quickly – before you were honked at again. Spoken to in English again, like this place had never been home.

You, belonging nowhere and to no one, kept yourself together until the elevator doors gave you some semblance of shelter. 

Alone, alone, alone, you cried so hard that your shoulders shook. The mirrored walls around you showed infinite versions of you, all pitiful like you were still that little girl who’d gotten separated from her parents at an amusement park. It was incredible how you felt smaller in that elevator than you did as a child.

And fuck, did that embarrassment make you cry even harder. 

Eventually, those doors would have to re-open, and you’d have to let yourself into Yoongi’s unoccupied penthouse just to wait for his return. You were so sick of walking into empty apartments and hearing nothing but your own footsteps. No warmth, no laughter, just a black hole of your own creation. 

You chose this, you reminded yourself. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You were so busy chasing broader horizons, you didn't notice that the sun had disappeared. If you’d known – really, truly known – what the fall would be like, would you have taken that leap of faith? No, you think, but you did and there’s no jumping back into the airplane once you’ve dived out of it.

Ding. 

There was a post-it note waiting for you on the inside of Yoongi’s door that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t taken so much time to shut it behind you. His handwriting was shockingly neat for someone who was always in a rush. His note told you that he’d be home in two hours, that there was food for you in the refrigerator, and that you should help yourself to whatever you needed. 

The sinkhole in your stomach wasn’t created by hunger, so you pushed that down to the bottom of your to-do list and dragged your luggage to the guest bedroom down the hall.

Every inch of his place was undeniably Yoongi – monochromatic and edgy, but still so confusingly inviting. His guest room was similar in style, but with more personalized touches than most visitors tended to expect. Framed photos of friends, and the collaborators he was most proud to work with.

Your eyes eventually found one of you, beaming brightly. 

It hurt to look, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. It was taken in a photobooth at Kim Seokjin’s wedding last spring. You were sandwiched on a small bench seat between Yoongi and Namjoon.

The former, like you, was captured in the middle of a laugh - smiling at the camera with all teeth, eyes crinkled at the edges but still sparkling. The latter wasn’t looking at the camera at all – just you, like you were all there was. 

Forcing yourself to look away, you returned the frame to its place on the vanity and kept moving. Your primary instinct was to hurl yourself into the plush bed and never leave it. But you felt stale after spending so much time traveling, and you didn’t want to collapse into those beautiful sheets until you’d scrubbed the day off you. 

Shuffling off to the bathroom, you finally remembered to take your phone off ‘airplane mode.’ All at once, the floodgates opened. The onslaught of texts, emails, and voicemails was so overwhelming that your phone froze.

When the flurry stopped, you scanned through your various inboxes for anything that might require an immediate response. Finding nothing urgent, you were about to set your phone down when you saw an email from Namjoon, addressing both you and Yoongi.

His verse, you realized as you opened it. 

I think I lost you sooner than I wanted to  And I know you can't say the same  But I can't hate you for doing what you've gotta do  Cause I'm just in bed sleeping through the pain  Do you see wasted potential when you look at me?  Of what we could be if it wasn't like this  I know you asked me not to try and change myself  But when I was with you, I felt fixed 

It took everything you had not to drop to your knees.

Namjoon was an incredible liar.

He didn’t utilize the skill often – in fact, he was usually too honest – but when he did, he could get himself out of any unwanted scenario.

In the distant past, he’d slip out of obligations made by his label to stay home in bed with you. It worked every single time. Instead of putting on some over-priced suit, wasting his breath swapping empty pleasantries with industry tools; he’d be hooking his arms around your quivering thighs, pinning you to his face as he fucked you with his tongue. 

In the present, he lied again. 

Yoongi asked, “How did it feel to hear from her again?” 

“To be honest,” Namjoon started, knowing full well that nothing he said next would be, “That shit’s behind me, man. I was surprised her number was still in my contacts, you know? She’s been a non-factor for a minute.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “With the number of girls you’ve gone through in the meantime, I imagine it gets hard to keep track.” 

Hook, line, sinker. 

Namjoon offered a smirk and a shrug in response, which Yoongi accepted without further comment. The relief of being believed did nothing to cure the nausea swirling in Namjoon’s stomach, though - not just for the cruelty of his lie, but for the way he’d acted since you left and stayed gone.  

He learned early on that it would take more than fucking someone he didn't know to keep warm, but knowing better didn’t mean he did better. None of them – and there were many – could pull him from the limbo he found himself in without you. There was an emptiness gnawing at his insides that he couldn’t fill, and the more he tried, the more it tore at him.

The only thing he succeeded at was becoming someone he didn’t recognize –someone he didn’t even like. 

Yoongi pulled into his parking garage and turned to Namjoon, staking him through the heart with words alone. “Well, the non-factor is upstairs, so try to remember her name when you see her.” 

Namjoon chuckled, but it didn’t sound anywhere close to convincing. There was a flicker of doubt in Yoongi’s quickly flexed eyebrow, though he kept any questions he may have had to himself. Without a word, they clambered out of the car, and they stayed quiet until they stepped into the elevator. 

“How has she been?” Namjoon asked more quietly than he meant to. Like someone who’s scared of the answer - or worse, being asked why he’s asking. Quickly diverting further inquiry, he provided clarification Yoongi hadn’t sought. “Sounded tired as fuck on the phone.” 

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon before selecting the button marked with his floor number. “You know how she is,” He hummed. 

That one hurt. He knew how you were – past tense.

Except for that one phone call, he hadn’t heard your voice in months. He hadn’t seen you for even longer than that. Your number hadn’t changed, but for all he knew, everything else could have. All he had now was his memory’s pale imitation of you, always in sight but never within reach.

A ghost that disappeared into the walls before he could get too close. 

When the elevator door opened, Namjoon was fighting between running forward and running away. Incapable of doing either, it was Yoongi’s light punch on his bicep that prompted his feet to move. Namjoon trudged along after him until Yoongi stopped short with a groan. 

“The fuck?” Namjoon coughed as he collided with Yoongi’s back. “Don’t tell me you’re already winded, dude. I’m not giving your old ass a piggy-back ride.” 

The scowl he received could’ve scorched the Earth.  

“I forgot my fucking phone in the car.” Yoongi tossed his apartment key at Namjoon. It thudded against his unsuspecting chest only to be caught on the rebound.

Then, Yoongi pointed at the door. “Go play nice and figure out where we’re getting take-out from. I had a dream about bulgogi last night that was borderline sexual, so keep that in mind.” 

Namjoon’s face scrunched up. “I’ll be trying my best to keep it out, so thanks for that.”  

Yoongi had already turned around, waving a dismissive hand as he stalked off. 

As soon as Namjoon heard the elevator doors close, his phone chirped in his pocket and caught him off guard. He glanced down to find a text from Yoongi – who was, apparently, also a liar. 

Yoongi [18:19 PM]: fyi you always say “to be honest” when you’re about to say some bullshit Yoongi [18:19 PM]: "non-factor" my asssssss

Namjoon grimaced and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking to Yoongi’s door with his heart in his throat.

Clearly, Yoongi wanted Najmoon to fix things with you. He’d crafted some false narrative to get himself out of there, to give Namjoon the time and space to do it. But there wasn’t a single fucking thing he could say to rebuild the bridge you’d both demolished together.

That is, if you even wanted him to try.

After unlocking the door, he froze. A full minute passed before his hand received his brain’s signal to turn the knob, and even then, his feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. If hearing your voice made him spiral, he was terrified of what the sight of you might do.

More than anything, he was scared to see how you looked at him – and he didn’t know what reaction he wanted. If you lit up the way you used to, it might kill him. If you had no reaction at all, it would definitely kill him. 

He would’ve stalled at that threshold all night if you didn’t appear in the hallway, straight ahead. You froze like a deer in headlights, one hand still on the door you’d exited from. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise.

He didn’t notice the red rims around your eyes right away, but once he did, every cell in his body screamed at him to run to you, to hold you.

But he didn’t.

Touching you now only to lose you again tomorrow - well, that was a scab he couldn’t rip off again. There was only scar tissue where his heart used to be.

“Hey,” You smiled so sweetly when you saw him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Those fucking eyes! He’d give up everything he had to erase the sadness swimming behind them, threatening to spill out. 

Why were you still so far away?

You glanced around him, noting Yoongi’s absence, but didn’t ask where he was. “I was thinking we could get something from that –” 

The longer he stared at you, the more impossible it became to keep his distance. He couldn’t stand on that doorstep with you over there, trying so hard to look like you hadn’t been crying – like you weren’t about to start again. 

Fuck it.

If he was so dead-set on re-breaking his own heart, he’d do it with you in his arms.

“Joonie, is everything oka–” 

No, nothing was. Nothing had been, not for – fuck, are his eyes getting misty? - a long time. Not since you walked out of his apartment for the last time, and he let you. He couldn’t make any of it okay, but with you there now, he didn’t give a fuck about where you were before. 

Your eyes were as big as the moon when he finally reached you, blinking your surprise up at him.

Did you really think he had any other option than to hold you? Did you have any idea how you looking at him like this - bare-faced, freshly-showered, vulnerable - demanded his immediate affection?

It felt like coming home, sliding his fingers through your still-damp hair. He could’ve fallen to pieces when the familiar scent of your shampoo – vanilla and honey – crashed over him, but he didn’t. His lips collided with yours, and for the first time in a fucking year, he felt whole.

You clung to him so desperately, you could’ve ripped a hole in his shirt. You couldn't care about that, though, because he kissed you and it was pure starlight. He kissed you hard, nicking your lip between his teeth until you opened your mouth against his.

You whimpered into him, drunk on the wet heat of his mouth, melting and falling and spinning and flying. You felt it all fall to the wayside, every second wasted without him, every text you didn’t send, every wrong turn that led you so far away. 

You didn't realize until you finally broke apart that the tears on your cheek weren’t exclusively yours. His gaze locked with yours, and all either of you could do was gasp for air - chests heaving, lips kissed swollen. If not for the arm around your back, pinning you against his chest, you would’ve floated away. But he had you, completely.  

Finally, you felt tethered. 

Your trembling hand settled on the side of his face. Fuck! That face. The warmth of his skin, the heights of his cheek bones, the gentle slope of his nose.

How many mornings did you wake up and miss it? How did you ever fall asleep without it nuzzled into the crook of your neck, without the whisper of warm breath on your skin?

You wanted to scream until the hurt left your chest, but you didn’t dare – not with that face so perfectly close to yours.  

He spoke first, “I’m so –” 

Your eyes followed your thumb as it swiped over his bottom lip, unearthing a quiver that burned you up inside. He was paralyzed by your touch. Enraptured. Leaving that clause hanging open in the air.

His eyes were wide with anticipation as he watched you, pupils dilating when you whispered. “Say less.” 

Faster than you could process, he lifted you off the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. Automatically, your legs locked behind his back; your lips re-captured his and his kiss never faltered as he carried you back into the guest room. Quickly and with a shocking display of control, he kicked the door closed without slamming it – or breaking it. 

Like so many times before, he laid you gently onto the mattress as if you were crafted from porcelain. And when he finally pulled away from you, you gazed up at him in awe.

This was one of the million reasons you couldn’t seem to let him go – the way his eyes softened when you were breathless underneath him, like you were the only thing in the universe worth looking at.

There were too many things to be said that neither of you could verbalize. You felt them all falling down around you like confetti, loose ends to be tied up later. He didn’t need to say a thing, so long as he kept looking at you like that. 

When his fingers landed at the hem of your shirt, you knew what came next. A dance you’d done a thousand times, you lifted your arms for him to pull it up and off. Still damp from your shower, the ends of your hair raised goosebumps as they chilled the bare skin of your back.  

He moved slowly and without breaking eye contact as he unbuttoned your jeans. Your zipper followed, then your jeans and underwear in tandem. The denim dragged so deliciously against your thighs as he slipped them down, down, down. As he tugged them off your ankles, you discarded your bra and tossed it aside. You were entirely bare and shivering with anticipation when his gaze found you again.

His shirt soon joined yours on the floor. Kneeling between your legs, his bare chest burned against your own as he kissed you for the third time. So many more were needed to make up for lost time, but you could feel how much of himself he poured into the kisses he’d credited you with so far. The taste of his mouth on yours was indescribably intoxicating after so much time apart. 

With you sufficiently distracted, the hands that cupped your face began to migrate. You felt so small under his touch, reduced to putty in the warm expanse of his palms. His face lowered too, freeing your mouth to moan as he placed open-mouthed kisses down the length of your neck.

Involuntarily, you gasped when his fingers pinched at one of your nipples. The curve of his smile impressed upon your throat as he suckled at the sensitive skin he found there, leaving clouds of indigo behind. 

As he marked you, he rolled and tweaked your nipples in turn. Your eyes fluttered shut and you keened while your head crashed back against the pillows, “That mouth – feels s-so fucking good.” Your fingers carded through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp; his silence broke with a shuddered moan. 

“S’all I want, baby,” He hummed as his lips trailed down from your neck and beyond your collarbone. “To make you feel good.”  

You were trembling when he claimed one of your nipples with his mouth. Then he had the audacity to look up at you from under his lashes when he released it with a lewd pop, causing your back to arch against his chest with a gasp. There was a rumble from deep within him when your grip on his hair tightened, and the sound alone made you gush. 

“To taste you,” His tongue left a wet stripe above your navel as he continued his descent, large hands dipping beneath you to squeeze the doughy flesh of your ass. Shit - you would simply never recover from this. “To devour you until you melt in my mouth.” 

Another sharp tug at his hair, another guttural moan breaking free from your chest.

How often had you dreamed of this in your time apart? How many times did you try to remember how it felt when that timbre whispered sins against your naked body? Fuck. With those words alone, he had you on the brink. 

You whined when he pulled away from you; but it quickly turned into a gasp when he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged you with him towards the end of the bed. Now kneeling on the floor, he ducked below your knees until they rested over the tops of his shoulders. 

Face so near to your aching core, he growled, and you felt it. “I missed this pussy –” He placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, prompting you to clench them reflexively. “I missed the way your thighs squeeze around me while you fuck yourself against my tongue.” 

Shivering, slack-jawed, and stupid, you grabbed fistfuls of the comforter below you. He was so painfully close to your cunt and still so fucking far from you. You knew he could see how badly you craved him - you’d beg for his mouth if you had to. 

Of course, you didn’t have to - you never did.

Seconds before your impatience could drive you fully insane, he was on you, tongue flat against your cunt, dragging up against your slit. When the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, you cried out with a buck of your hips. His grip on you tightened, pinning you flush against him as he teased you. 

“That it’s, baby. Good girl.” 

It’s a miracle either one of you could form words with how relentlessly he licked, nipped, and suckled on your throbbing cunt. All you could do was babble in response to his praise – until the tip of his tongue penetrated your weeping hole, and you screamed. 

A flurry of curse words spilled from your lips; his name sprinkled in between the obscenities. Fuck, you needed more. More, more, more. You extended your arm and reclaimed your grasp on his locks. Once you did, you began to grind yourself against his tongue until your abdominal muscles burned - you hadn’t utilized them to this extent since the last time.

His hand squeezed your thigh, goading you, encouraging you to use him the way you needed to. The pressure of his tongue increased with your pace. You had no control over the sounds you made; the breathless moans escaped you before you could think of trapping them. The coil was tightening, burning red-hot in the pit of your belly. 

So good, so good, so g – 

“Fuck!” 

One by one, your muscles tensed in quick succession until your body shook violently in his grip. Toes curling, back arching, head crashing backwards into the pillows, mewling. 

When you finally gathered the strength to re-open your bleary eyes, there were spots dotting the edges of your vision – and then there was Namjoon, fuck-drunk between your weakened knees, with a mixture of his saliva and your orgasm shining on his chin. 

Lustful eyes locked squarely on your flushed face; his tongue slid from between his swollen lips to attend to the mess you’d made of him. His panting rivaled yours, but unlike you, he was still capable of speech.

“I will never – ever – get tired of watching you come,” he sighed before wiping his mouth against the back of his hand, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” 

As he climbed back on top of you, he placed a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead. “So vulnerable –” Then the tip of your nose. “So vocal –” Then, too briefly, your lips. “Perfect.” 

“Joon,” You murmured against his lips. His mouth curved into a smile at the nickname, which you used almost exclusively to win arguments, or to persuade him to do something. It worked every time. 

He nudged your nose with the tip of his as he tried to conceal his laugh. “Baby?” 

The fond look in his eyes was quickly covered by fluttering eyelids as your fingertips whispered down over his chest. They snapped open and bored into you as your fingers slid over the waistband of his joggers, tracing a feather-light trail over the bulge below. You felt his cock twitch autonomously against the warmth of your palm. 

“Shit,” He hissed through gritted teeth as you squeezed him. Eyes drifting shut once again; he rolled his hips to exacerbate the friction. His neck tensed, head thrown back, when you finally dipped under the elastic and took him into your hand. Skin to skin, burning up.

The next moan from his fawning mouth was something you hadn’t heard in his voice for months – your name. “I need you. Now.” 

In the few moments he pulled away to remove his pants, a chill crept in and settled where the weight of his body had just been.

There it is again, you thought, the feeling of having him and losing him.

When this night was over and he was gone from you, would he stay that way? Should you have gone this far, knowing nothing would be different in the daylight? 

You were blinking fast when he reclaimed the space above you. Something flickered in his eye as he assessed the look on your face, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you so gently that you could’ve imagined it – but so completely that your brain could never have fabricated it. Not successfully, anyway.

You’d already tried. 

Breaking apart once more, he reached down and stroked himself slowly. His eyes never left yours. You both held your breath as he slid into you, millimeter by millimeter, reminding your body – after all this time – how to take him. All of him, to the hilt, until you could finally exhale.

Stretched to accommodate his width, so fucking full, you saw a way out of the nothing that had you trapped like quicksand. It was him, always. Your safe haven.

Neither of you could speak once he began rolling his hips against you. The quiet was electrified by heavy breaths and whimpers. The wet heat of your cunt squelched as your walls enveloped him, just as unwilling to let him go as the rest of you.

Over and over, he grinded into you, dragging his length across your most sensitive places; hips swiveling slightly to the side as he pushed and pulled himself through you, the way he knew you liked it. 

Open mouth beside his ear, you keened and sighed, wordlessly informing him that you wouldn’t last much longer. He was perfectly attuned to your subconscious movements, and he responded to each of them without hesitation.

He’d never need to be reminded that the fingernails digging into his biceps meant faster, and the upward tilt of your jaw meant deeper. That when your eyebrows rose above your closed lids, you were seconds away from your release. 

He remembered exactly how to fuck you through your orgasm when it came – shallow, staccato thrusts that unraveled you further as you writhed against the sheets. The spot on your neck to nip at like some secret switch, praise dripping hot in your ear like honey.

“Such a good girl, squeezing me like this,” He panted, “Taking me so well – so fucking perfect for me, angel.” 

As soon as you crashed down through the atmosphere, his movements threatened to ricochet you right back into space. You keened helplessly with your half-numbed fingers gripping any part of him where they could find purchase.

“I c-can't stop -” You mewled, “How am I s-still c-coming?” 

His response didn’t come in the form of words. His lips collided with yours hard enough to clink teeth as he drove himself deeper and deeper and deeper. Sloppy, kiss-bitten lips laying claim; relentless in their mutual need for closeness. Your walls were still fluttering around him – was this your second orgasm or your third? - when he moaned into your mouth.

Every part of him tensed above, around, and inside you as the flood of his release filled every crevice of your cunt. 

Breathing ragged, his head fell into the crook of your shoulder. Considerate as ever, he tried so hard to keep his full weight off you, but his exhaustion undermined his efforts. You didn’t mind at all – you’d re-build your home there, staying forever between his body and that borrowed bed if you could. 

But you couldn’t, could you? If you felt empty before, how could you feel whole again after this? His name etched itself into your ribcage, and now your body would never re-acclimate to his absence.

Why did you do this to yourself? 

You squeezed your eyes shut tight when you felt tears prickling in their corners.  

Everything you felt for him – over the course of two years – came crashing down over you. You buried your face into his shoulder and tried your best to keep your crying to yourself.

You’d never get his scent off your body now. 

He could sense your shaking; it forced his heavy lids open. 

“I don’t know what to do with it,” you sniffled, silently begging yourself to stop. You felt yourself shrinking under his eye. It would only be a matter of time before you disappeared entirely.

His tone dripped with concern, serving only to deepen that infernal ache in the pit of your stomach. “With what?”  

“All the love I have for you. I don’t –” You sobbed, “I don’t know where to put it now.” 

His breath caught in his throat as if you’d punched him straight in the chest. If you listened hard enough, you might’ve heard his heart break. You could certainly feel it in the way he tensed in your arms.

When he moved off you, you feared the worst – that your incessant crying overflowed the bathtub, and your admission was the toaster thrown recklessly inside. But unlike the last time, he didn’t leave - and neither did you.

The mattress shifted as he claimed the space at your side - where he should have been all this time. Strong arms enveloped you as he turned to face you, and even though he held you, he couldn’t stop you from shattering.

For a while, he let you. Squeezed you hard, stroked your hair the way he used to, let you cry out all the poison that filled the spaces in the cavern of your chest.

And when you could finally breathe again, he kissed your forehead. “I’ll trade you for it.” 

(1/8/23): Check out the sequel, Redamancy, here.

[bucknastysbabe]

hi cal! i love your page sm. i wanted to request more chubby bucky (i’m so obsessed & haven’t seen him in a min) also make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

HI!!!! Sorry I’ve been such a spazz and awful about my page and askbox I’m in my new era blah blah but YES! CHUBBY BUCKY! Thanks for the well wishes I’m trying to practice ~self care~ and ~time management~ mwah mwah much love. So let’s say this just in the same universe as Poolside Blues!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: body dysmorphia, obsessive thoughts, negative body talk, Muscle chub Buck, Bucky’s shit self esteem is saved by sunshine gf, holiday weight gain, Bucky being a stubborn mf, switch!Bucky, reader has empathic projection, horny texts, body worship, WE LOVE SOFT PARTS AND STRETCH MARKS ROUND HERE, teasing, sub space, daddy kink, pnv!sex, cuddles and fluff, Bucky is just a big cuddly tiger kitty

“Bucky if you stare at the scale any longer I’m going to break it. Holidays are over, you can get back to being in the gym twenty-five eight.”

Bucky eyed his petite girlfriend, frowning from the doorway to the bathroom. He palmed his stupid fucking gut and sighed, he actually had to suck in to see the number! This is why Bucky hated the holidays. Besides being cold. James Buchanan Barnes very much disliked the cold, one could assume why.

He could handle the residual un-moveable pudge leftover from Hydra’s ever consistent tinkering with his bodily functions. But then it all started with Halloween. Wanda and his girlfriend loved to bake. So he’s getting force fed cookies. Then they need to decorate, go to functions, give out candy. No time for gym.

Bucky grumbled and stepped off the scale, padding to his closet. He grumbled more, “Stupid turkey holiday.” Great yes, the holiday known for feasting. Pumpkin spiced everything in his vision. Bucky had a weakness for pumpkin, his ma made good spiced bread. He took a short vacation with his lovely little angel to the mountains. He tried to rationalize that hiking and marathon sex would make up for the amount of food he had ingested.

Tony Stark of course had a grandiose Thanksgiving celebration. Bucky tried to keep it light, he did, he really did. But every refusal got sad eyes or downright offense. The former winter soldier was belly up by the end of the night, all gym plans out the window.

Christmas fared no better. His best gal absolutely adored Christmas. It was the first holiday she’d experience not as an asset to Hydra, just like Bucky. So instead of RUNNING or LIFTING, the Brunette was shopping and ice skating. He’d already gone up a size in clothes December 3rd to be exact. Bucky correctly guessed he would go up another post-Christmas.

He’d whinge and rant to Steve, the blondie listening and telling Bucky to chill— it’s not like anyone thought it was bad. Bucky exasperatedly shouted, “I’m like a goddamn balloon! I don’t need to be on missions like this! I’m going to Bruce, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Bruce didn’t help either. Just said once he got back into a routine it would come off and he’d be at his regular weight. Refused to give Bucky Ozempic either. Some kinda doctor he was, his patient was obviously distraught.

“Are you dressed yet?,” she hollered.

“Give me a second!,” Bucky pouted.

He was going to pout today. Go to gym, get anger out, and pout. So he shimmied on some catastrophically tight basketball shorts and the biggest shirt he could find. Luckily it covered him up. May or may not have been a panic buy. Bucky cursed some more sitting on his bench to lace up his shoes, stupid gut getting in the way.

Red faced and irritated he snarked, “Happy now princess? I’m going to the gym, nothing is stopping me, I will be going to work out.” She grinned and watched him grab his bag, slapping a round ass cheek on his way out. Bucky shuddered at the wobble. Her familiar rasp rang out, “Nice ass baby! Go get em!”

He was too old for this. Technically his girl was ten years his junior if you took off the cryogenic time. He loved her dearly, always bubbly, somehow remained optimistic after all she’d been through. But the little freak liked Bucky’s pudge, loved it. Always grabbing up on it.

Bucky took the stairs to the gym. He needed it. The brunette thought with a smirk that if he had a nickel for every time he had to remove her hands from his ‘handles of love’ he would’ve been a millionaire back during the Depression. He grimaced at the feeling of his chubby tummy and thick thighs.

Finally. He’d made it. Gym time.

Not a soul in sight, Bucky could just relax and get his frustrations out. With a fuck-ton of a cardio and some toning exercises— really didn’t need any muscle to bulk him out more. He felt a bit peaceful for once, a strange bravado coming over him. The soldier stretched his unused muscles and did a bit of breathing exercises.

God, he already felt lighter. Maybe. Maybe he would take a picture and see if the camera made him look different. Bucky’s therapist already hammered him about his ‘body dysmorphia and negative self-image’.

Taking a peak about and tying his hair half up, Bucky propped the camera at a flattering angle and yanked off his shirt. He refused to look in a mirror for the holidays unless he was clothed. Fiddling with the inane controls, the man finally had the thing on a timer. He pulled off his shirt and tried to pose, straighten up his back again.

The flash went off and he ran to the phone, hit send, then sat down on a nearby bench to look fully. The brunette had to keep his ‘body positive!’ thoughts at the forefront. His chest and legs looked good. Face didn’t look too puffy thanks beard.

Disgust picked the earlier bravado up and hulk smashed it. Buck’s eyes were glued to his rounded belly and fat hips, a muffin over those horrid shorts. There, oh my god, there were stretchmarks on him? Bucky never had stretchmarks! Not the red kind! But there they were— mocking him. Ragged lines on his hips and sections of stomach.

He deleted the picture, feeling horrid. He should run more. But not before the pings blowing up his phone. She was strange and texted in 5 different messages that could’ve been sent in one singular text.

“Babbbbyyyy omg you’re so hot”

“Fuck, I’m getting all flustered in this debrief.”

“Look at that pretty body. Wanna lick those pretty stripes, tiger.”

“I’m so horny lmfao get your ass back to the room in 30. I’m gonna fucking ride you so goddamn hard.”

Bucky blinked a bit, feeling himself perk up. He still was a overblown balloon, but at-least the weirdo he loved enjoyed it. “Tiger huh,” he murmured, scratching at the sensitive marks. Bucky had a time limit now, snatching his gear up and stuffing it into a bag, hustling down the stairs to his room.

“Hey Buck,” Sam’s voice was a blur as Bucky entered his room. He smirked a bit hearing a muffled, “Weird ass.” The super soldier kept his mind on the prize— getting the daylights fucked out of him by his girls. Nope he wasn’t going to pay attention to the chafe on the inside of his thighs one bit. Okay...maybe he’d powder the area after the shower.

All he had to do was wait now. Wait. Not get nerved about his very naked body. He felt like a pile of exposed lard but it’ll be okay. Yep. Bucky would be fine. Pussy would fix his problems. As long as she played nice and didn’t tease. That rendered Bucky into a teary, babbling mess. Either he was always a masochist or Hydra made him into one but God— sometimes when she got mean he saw stars.

The door busted open, Bucky feeling relief at her grinning face. She gently closed it behind her, stripping easily while throwing her panties at him. He caught the material, moaning softly as she growled, “See what you did to me in the middle of that debrief? Had to cut it short my pheromones were so bad.”

Bucky inspected the panties, eyes fluttering at the slick wetting the cloth. He gripped and inhaled, hand flying down to soothe his cock. A lithe body crawled to the end of the bed, the soldier flushing as she seated herself in between his thighs. Keeping him in fucking missionary, her manicured nails spreading him a bit. He gasped, body jolting at the exposure.

Her perky tits heaved as she groped at his thighs and slid down to get handfuls of his round ass. Bucky threw his head back and moaned, “W-What are you up to?” Earlier mentioned pheromones were making his body keyed up and sensitive, pupils likely swallowing up blue eyes. She leaned forward, taught body against his cock.

“Mmm- I don’t know really. You just looked so delicious,” she kissed his belly and cooed, “I know you’re upset with yourself right now, Buck, you’re fucking gorgeous. Holiday weight or not. But I’ll even go to the gym with you, know I’ve been a distraction.”

Bucky slurred a name, hands reaching for her waist, she was so sweet. He sighed, “I enjoyed you as my distraction, best disss-traction everrr. Fuck you’re makin’ me horny babydoll.” She crawled up his bigger body to plant a kiss on Bucky’s swollen lips before sliding back to her place. His cock leaked when she giggled, “I know, poor baby’s all achy for me. But I wanna do something first.”

She slid palms up and down Bucky’s muscled arms, soothing him a little. Then the she-devil gripped his chunky love-handles and shook, watching with poorly-disguised glee. Bucky whined, “Baaaby, stoppp, it’s awful!”

“Think of them as tiger stripes, they’ll fade out when you drop weight,” she dug under where his belly hung a bit and traced at his most sensitive stretch marks. Bucky let out an indecent noise, thrusting up into her sweet touch. The fellow avenger cooed, “S’that feel good tiger? Need some lotion. Pretty boy.”

Bucky outright whimpered when her hand wrapped around his weepy cock, already slick from copious pre. She slowly moved her hand, praising him. Pretty boy, smart, handsome, good, kind, helpful.

He was going to bust a nut before anything happened. Bucky barked, “B-babe, stop! Stop!” Her pretty brows knitted together, hand jerking away as she asked, “What’s wrong bub?” He panted, “Gimme a second, w-wanna fuck you so baaaad.” She gently stroked the outside of thick muscled thighs, padded with love in her opinion.

“Thought I was going to ride you?,” she asked, face beginning to flush.

Bucky shook his head, managing to push himself up to get face-to-face. His soft body filled the tight space between them, making her whimper now. Bucky used one hand to caress the side of her face, the other massaging her pretty tit. Long lashes fluttered, her lips falling open.

Score. He managed to somewhat fumble through the pheromone fog.

Bucky rumbled, “Nuh-uh, all this talk about my body and you don’t want me to pin you down and fill your pretty pussy up? Hm sweetheart?” He punctuated the sentence with a deep kiss, the sweet thing easily giving up to him. It was fun when she played mean but Bucky had more experience— he could play his girl like a fucking fiddle.

“C’mon,” smack, “use your,” smack, “words baby,” smack smack. She didn’t want to stop kissing, sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away. She blushed, embarrassed on how fast the situation had flipped. His girl whined, “Yeah, c’mon fuck me, fuck me full daddy.” He grinned and laid back, strong arms pulling her atop him.

She squealed, eyes widening. Bucky purred, “You know what to do, Daddy’ll let you on top.” He bit his swollen lip again watching the tip of his clock get swallowed by molten heat, the pair of them shuddering in ecstasy. Her little hands planted on his chest, panting and whining at the fullness. He’d get to work, holding that pretty waist and fucking up into her tight cunt.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out and laying atop his body, gasping, “Y’feel so good! Ah! Soft and oh god s’fucking hard!” Bucky sucked at her neck and thrust into her with downright pornographic slaps. He grunted and gasped, legs wonderfully getting another workout.

He murmured into her ear, a hand stilling all that writhing the poor thing was doing, “Yeah doll? Daddy fucking you good? Feels good to lay on Daddy and get your pussy pounded huh?” She sobbed, clenching and spilling tears on his neck, “Yes daddy! Yes! Don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck, s’rubbing my clit! I love you Daddy!”

Bucky’s eyes crossed for a second. What?

The evil flab that curses his very existence is a free clit rubber? He moaned in delight. Bucky changed their position some to milk out that new fact. Might as well abuse it before it’s gone. His baby was clinging to him now, mewling his name, pussy spasming sporadically. Bucky tilted her head up, melting at her pretty eyes. He rasped, “Come for Daddy baby, know you’re close, let go babydoll.”

He was grinding the tip of his cock into her soft spot while cooing at her. She hiccuped on a sob, the entirety of lean frame tightening down on him. His baby was a lot stronger than she looked. He could feel her core clamp and soak his cock, sending Bucky reeling into his own orgasm with a hoarse shout. He whimpered at the feeling of his balls drawing painfully tight, emptying all he had pent up.

They laid in a pile of sweat and spend, probably love. She was still subbed out, nuzzling into Bucky, only making a soft noise when his soft cock slid out. The brunette guessed it was his turn to return her earlier favor. He felt like the man of the hour. Crazy little kitten thought her geriatric overweight cyborg assassin was hot. Even with the holiday pounds.

So he pressed little kisses, rubbed her back, waxed poetic nonsense of his love for her. Bucky was a lover boy back in the day, just a little rusty, not like his Babygirl was on planet Earth right now anyways. She murmured into his neck with a dopey smile, “Tiger.”

Once again, crazy fellow asset saving Bucky’s wavering self-esteem. How lucky was he?

[wttcsms]

love cuts just like a knife (you make the knife feel so good) ; phillip graves

pairing phillip graves x f!reader word count 8.4k synopsis lover and victim are synonymous when it comes to those who fall into phillip graves’ trap. you learn this lesson a little bit too late. alternatively: an ambitious twenty-five year old graves will do anything for recognition and a promotion. even using you, a renowned general’s daughter, as a means to an end. collateral damage is insignificant when it comes to reaping the rewards of love and war, after all. content contains age gap (reader is 19, phillip is 25), manipulation, loss of virginity, possessive sex, possessive!phillip, lovers to enemies, naive + inexperienced!reader, mentions of pregnancy, power imbalance, breeding kink, minor depictions of violence + blood, literally heavily inspired by taylor swift’s “all too well (10 min version)” + “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” </3

The four walls of this bathroom are closing in on you, you can’t breathe, and you’re certain that this most certainly is the end of the fucking world.

You try to focus on your breathing, but the sound of your heart banging against your chest invades your mind and makes you think your eardrums are going to burst from the inside out. You’re vaguely aware of the knocks against the bathroom door, but you can’t make out what the person on the other side is saying. The whole room is spinning, and you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to keep steady, to stay calm.

Your fingers curl around the countertop of the bathroom, back hunched over and your shaky arms being the only things helping you remain upright.

This can’t be happening.

You only tighten your grip, staring at your fingers before wanting to throw up when the light reflection from the promise ring on your finger catches your eyes.

You swear that in the glint from the thin band wrapped around your finger, you see flashes of what transpired these past few months. Secret smiles shared from across the room, being tangled up in hotel bedsheets, that damn smirk and boyish grin that sent you spiraling, that led to your’s — your whole entire family’s — demise.

It all comes back to you at too much of a rapid-fire pace for your already shattered mind to deal with properly. Instead, you’re practically ripping off the ring from your finger and chucking it somewhere in the bathroom. You hear the distinct sound of its landing, and from the corner of your eye, it still taunts you.

You shut your eyes again, childishly refusing to turn your head any further so you can conveniently ignore what the ring happened to land next to.

You don’t care much for violence.

Which is ironic; a renowned general’s only daughter being a pacifist? Sounds more like the setup for a joke.

But there’s nothing funny about the way his knuckles are smeared with dried blood, and the sincerity reflected in his blue eyes is too real to be just a joke. Dangling from in between his fingers is the unmistakable golden locket your mother gifted to you when you were only twelve — just months before her quick death. It’s your most prized possession.

And then it was stolen.

At least, you think it was stolen. You’re smart enough to know better than to throw wild accusations, especially whenever you’re on base and these young men surrounding you are training to be the best and brightest for the country. But still — you’re not careless enough to just misplace something so important. The only reason you took it off was because your father told you jewelry wouldn’t be allowed past a certain point. He had promised that the locker would be secure, and you didn’t have the heart to come running to him to tell him that the lockers evidently were not. After watching a fighter jet’s practice run (a supposed special treat for graduating top of your high school class — neverminding the fact that your father’s influence probably had something to do with it), the door to your locker had been swung open and left entirely empty.

You even had a sneaking suspicion as to who the culprit could have been. Jeremy Omelia has been a pain in your ass since summer break started, and you’ve been forced to spend most of your time either on the training base or following your dad around like some little puppy. He’s a new recruit, evident in the way he talks loudly and obnoxiously about how badly he wants to go to war. Your father, a highly respected general, mind you, isn’t shy about his distaste for fighting.

Avoid it at all costs.

Instead of hardening him, all the violence your father has beared witness to has left him rather soft. He shields you to the point where some of his fellow men jokingly discuss about you living in your own little bubble world. And they’re right.

You’ve never had the luxury of sneaking out or having movie dates and getting your father to allow you to go to a sleepover at a classmate’s was harder and less painful than pulling teeth. You get it; that he’s overbearing and overprotective for a good reason. But when the situation calls for you to stand your ground, you find yourself completely at the mercy of your opposition.

So when you first accused Jeremy of stealing your beloved necklace, it had been nothing short of a miserable, failed mission. Too overwhelmed and yet too unsure of yourself, you had practically stuttered through your accusation. It hadn’t helped that you chose to confront him in front of the rest of the new recruits, too. They would have mocked you and probably teased you with the type of cruelty only boys are capable of, but the status of your father shields you from it. Their laughter still rings in your ears, though.

And for the first time in your life, you felt the urge to punch someone in the face.

Again: you’re not a very violent person. Nor are you the type of person who jumps in and does stuff as irrational as that.

But staring up at the boy in front of you, locking eyes with him, and then allowing yours to wander from his bloody knuckles to the thin gold chain dangling in his large hands, you feel a sudden surge of satisfaction. Your father may tell you to avoid fighting at all costs, and you may have a distaste for violence, but a punch managed to solve all your problems.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, daring to take a step forward. Your fingers graze against the familiar, cold feeling of the gold of your necklace. “Thank you.” You repeat it again, staring up at him, trying to see if you know him at all.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says, knowing that he’s lying right through his pearly white teeth. It’s a nasty habit of his — lying, that is. It’s probably inherited. That’s the excuse he tells himself anyway. As if unlearning bad behaviors from your family is impossible.

“I know he stole it! That jerk! I—” You pause, clearing your throat. Your cheeks feel warm, and you suddenly can’t look him in the eyes. “That jerk” is probably one of his bunkmates. Badmouthing the guy might do more harm than good, and since you haven’t necessarily regained possession of your necklace, you should shut up. Instead of finishing your onslaught of insults, you stretch out your palm, silently asking for your prized possession back.

“I know.” He says, after a minute of silence. “Omelia’s a dick. And an idiot. Y’know, I think he has a little crush on you.”

That makes you look at him again.

“That’s— I—” You need a second to process what you’re trying to tell him.

“That can’t be true,” is what you lamely settle for.

“Guys do weird shit to get a girl’s attention, y’know. ‘Specially for a pretty one.”

(Things like getting their knuckles bloody and risking punishment and public humiliation. But, that’s neither here nor there.)

You want to blame your inexperience for being the reason why you react the way you do. You’re thankful that he’s only human and can’t hear the way your heart starts to beat at his comment. He says it so casually, as if it’s not a compliment. And maybe he doesn’t mean it in that way. Maybe it wasn’t a compliment towards you at all. Maybe he’s just being a completely normal guy, and he’s just making simple conversation, and you’re the weird one for practically gawking at him.

“I guess.” You reply back, feeling small as ever. “May I have my necklace back, now? Please?” You tack on the please at the last minute, hoping he’ll appreciate it, and the two of you can be done with this whole entire awkward situation.

“Depends. You gonna get it stolen from you again?”

You know he’s just teasing you, but you can’t think of anything smart to say back, so you just cross your arms, hoping your distaste for his comment will be made known. Instead of apologizing, he laughs.

“Turn around.” He tells you, and you do. Only out of curiosity, though. Only because he has a nice laugh. Only because he obviously went through great lengths to retrieve your necklace back for you, and he never acknowledged your thank you’s, so maybe doing what he says will make the two of you even.

The tips of his fingers brush against the nape of your neck, and you never realized just how sensitive you are. It takes everything in you to not jerk away from the movement, but it’s almost as if he’s shocked you. It’s silly to get overwhelmed from just the slightest touch, but you swallow hard as he manuevers around your hair to clasp the necklace around your neck.

“There.” He says, seemingly satisfied. “Now the next time someone takes it from you, at least you’ll have a solid look at ‘em yanking the chain around your neck so your accusation can have some credibility.”

You ignore his little teasing remark in favor of satiating your curiosity. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to worry too much about.”

You turn your head, ready to face him again and ask him for his name more firmly, but he’s already walking back from wherever he’s came from, leaving nothing but the memory of his face and the ghost of his touch lingering on the back of your neck.

Ambition is a curse.

Ambition is a bitch.

At least, that’s how Phillip Graves sees it. Ambition and the greed to do something more, to always have the best — sure, it motivates him to be the top of his class and to rise through the ranks faster than most. But it also ends up resulting in him doing some pretty questionable shit.

Things like beating up fellow recruits.

He doesn’t like fighting.

Or rather, he doesn’t like to be the first one to swing.

You see, it’s easier to justify when you do bad shit because it’s done out of retaliation. No one can blame you for being the bad guy if you were the victim first — right?

But no.

General McHenry is the closest thing Graves has to a father figure. His home life is something he chooses not to acknowledge, and when you’re too consumed with climbing the ladder, a lot of things get easier to move to the backseat, left to be abandoned and forgotten. His family being one of those abandoned, forgotten things.

The conversation still replays in his mind as Graves stomps on Omelia’s back.

“General [Surname] has been a pain in the fucking ass for as long as I can remember. The weak bastard’s always opposing the opportunity to strike, and he’s going to be the reason why our enemies are going to accuse us of being a bunch of pussies.”

Graves nods in agreement, even if he doesn’t truly agree. General McHenry’s been the one kind enough to take him under his wing, and so it’s better to just go with what he says and continue to benefit from the general’s sponsorship. Raw talent and simple ambition only gets you so far nowadays.

“You agree, dont’cha? ‘Course ya do.” McHenry grumbles, pacing around the room. “[Surname] refuses to man up and fuckin’ fight. It doesn’t help that he’s still viewed as a golden boy around here. He’s even got the fuckin’ president wrapped around his finger.”

Graves personally doesn’t have anything against General [Surname]. He seems like a nice enough guy. He’s a war hero, too.

Then again, so is McHenry.

“When I’m at the top of the fuckin’ foodchain, [Surname] and his entire family is going to regret crossing me. You understand, Graves?”

Graves nods. Lately, McHenry’s been going on little tangents like this, where he’s secretly plotting the downfall of this general. He goes along with it because he feels like he owes it to McHenry, and even if there’s only a sliver of a chance of taking down General [Surname], Graves will follow through for McHenry because the payoff will be fantastic.

He doesn’t actually anticipate McHenry coming up with a feasible plan.

“Fuck! What the fuck is your problem, Graves?!”

The howl of pain from Omelia snaps him back to his current reality. Staring down at the pitiful, crumpled form of Omelia, Graves can’t find it in himself to feel the slightest bit of remorse. Truth be told, Omelia’s had it coming since day one.

The pathetic idiot’s been eyeing General [Surname]’s daughter ever since you stepped foot on base. Everyone is aware of your presence, especially this year’s class. The famous general’s only daughter is going to be here all summer? And you just so happen to be the prettiest fucking thing most of these guys have ever laid eyes on? Trouble was bound to happen.

Graves just didn’t know that he was going to be one of the unlucky participants of it.

He sighs, crouching down before taking a hand to tug at the collar of Omelia’s shirt. The action forces Omelia to weakly lift his head, allowing him to look Graves in his gunmetal blue eyes.

“Where is it?” Graves doesn’t sound angry, which is shocking to poor Omelia considering the fact that he sure as hell punches like he is. The proof is in the constant stream of blood trickling out of his nose.

“Where’s what?” He’s not even feigning ignorance, which Graves can’t necessarily fault him for. He’s not really the type to wear his heart on his sleeve — would much rather prefer to pretend that he doesn’t even have one, thank you very much — but he’s on a bit of a time crunch right now. He knows your schedule. You’re going to be leaving the canteen pretty soon, and if he wants to catch you, he needs to speed things up.

He chooses to further take his irritation out on Omelia, punching the guy with his left fist this time. It’s not a particularly hard punch; he figures he’s already done enough damage, and by the time word gets around of his transgressions, Graves will hopefully already have McHenry pulling some strings to make sure his punishment isn’t too severe. Now, though, both of his hands are bloody. Blood is a bitch to wash away.

“Fuck!” Omelia yelps. “What the fuck are you even looking for?”

“Her necklace. The damn locket that she confronted you about for stealing. Where the hell is it?” With each sentence, Graves shakes the boy, forcing his limp body to jerk with each aggressive tug. Graves starts to feel a little bit guilty, before he remembers that technically, Omelia made you cry.

You’re cute, Graves finds himself thinking. Too cute to be crying over an idiot like him.

The guilt dissipates.

“That’s what all this shit is about? Over some stupid fu—”

Omelia’s complaints are interrupted by another one of his pained screams. Graves had punched him again, this time a bit harder.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” Graves growls. He switches gripping Omelia’s shirt in favor for curling his fingers into the locks of the boy’s hair. It’ll be easier to use that as a sort of leash; provides him the ability to more forcefully bash the idiot’s head into the pavement beneath his feet. Seemingly smart enough to sense the impending danger, Omelia quickly begins to shout.

“It’s in my fucking left pocket! Left pocket, left pocket!”

Graves keeps his grip tight and unyielding as he uses his free hand to rummage in said pocket. Sure enough, Omelia had enough sense to not lie.

He releases Omelia unceremoniously, clutching the dainty necklace and keeping it safely secured in the calloused palm of his hand.

His parting words — more like a warning — leaves Omelia wondering just who the fuck are you to Graves.

The next time you make her cry, I’ll break every fucking bone in your body for every tear she spills.

Eighteen years old. Freshly graduated from high school. More college acceptances than you know what to do with. General [Surname]’s only child. His precious little princess. His only immediate family, and after the untimely death of your mother, his biggest weakness.

General McHenry is teaching Graves on how to exploit weaknesses.

“Good job,” McHenry says, laughing before clapping Graves on the back of his shoulder. “You sure can put on a performance, son.”

Son. Huh. It has a bit of a nice ring to it, he supposes.

“Y’know, I thought I wouldn’t be able to stick out my neck for ya, but you must’ve done some Oscar-worthy acting, boy. You should’ve seen the look on that girl’s face when she begged her daddy not to let ‘em punish you too harshly. Looks like you’re smarter than you look.”

Yeah, sure. It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Graves will settle for it. He just has to deal with this shit for a while longer, and soon, he’ll never have to settle for anything ever again.

At first, General McHenry thought it was a bit of a bullshit idea. The general’s daughter is much too protected by the likes of her father and his closest allies to be touched by the likes of any outsiders. The best way to have him in the palm of their hands is to hit you with it, but that provides to be a bit of a challenge. No direct attack on you will go unpunished.

Graves suggests playing the long game.

He’s read your file, and it doesn’t take a psych degree to read you to filth. You’re nothing more than a pretty girl who’s been spoiled and sheltered by her father all her life. You’re eighteen and about to begin the start of your life, and you probably feel as if you’ve never done anything exciting. Even if you act like a stickler for rules or you’re scared to face the consequences of disobeying your father, with the right words and the right timing, Graves bets planting the seeds of rebellion in your naive, little brain will be a simple task. He’s certain you’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been given the chance to go out on a date — the slightest bit of affection will have you eating out the palm of his hands. The same hands he’s going to use to force your father into the ground, allowing him and McHenry to do whatever the fuck they want.

Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished. Graves still has to scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next two nights, but it’s a small price to pay. If you truly caused a commotion and swayed your own father to change his stance all for a guy you don’t even know the name of, he’s certain in the next few months, he’ll have you craving his last name and the privilege of bearing his children.

Which isn’t such a bad thing. You’re pretty, he’ll give you that. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen, too.

“What do you plan on doing next?” McHenry asks, grinning. Graves smiles back.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Word spreads around quickly in places like these. While you saw the evidence all over his knuckles, hearing what actually transpired leaves you a bit breathless — shocked, but not necessarily because of the violence of it all. Shocked because it had all been done in your honor.

It’s only been two days since the incident, but the feeling of your locket pressed against your skin seems to burn. It serves as a constant reminder of the boy who fought to get it back for you, and suddenly, this necklace has two special memories behind it. You never want to take it off again.

You catch snippets of the recruits whispering to each other, but it’s hard to hear the full story whenever they look up and notice you’re nearby. No one has outright approached you about your connection to this whole fight, and it’s not until dinnertime that you finally get all the details.

“What’s this I hear about between you and Graves?”

“Me and who?” You continue twisting your pasta around your fork, perfectly content with eating in silence and daydreaming about the boy who retrieved your necklace for you. You’ve been texting your closest friends from high school about all the drama, questioning them on what it means. The general consensus? That boy’s got it bad for you. The thought makes you way too happy.

“Phillip Graves.” Your father says.

You shrug, still not sure who he’s talking about.

“Young lady, do not play the fool with me. According to Omelia, he’s the one who left him bloody and bruised outside the back of the gym.”

So, two things you now know for certain: Omelia is a necklace thief, and the boy you’re thinking about is named Phillip Graves. This is becoming a truly enlightening conversation.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know his name.”

“You don’t know his name, and yet, he’s starting brawls over you?”

“Well, dad, when you put it like that—”

“[Name], what Graves did was a very inappropriate thing to do. Honorable men should never raise their fists against their own fellow soldiers, especially over disputes that could have easily been solved with a simple conversation.”

“Dad, you don’t seriously think that he’s the bad guy in the situation! He’s the one who defended me—”

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, that he used unnecessary force—”

“Omelia is such a jerk! You weren’t there that day. He totally humiliated me in front of everyone in the canteen whenever I tried to make ‘simple conversation’. He wouldn’t listen at all.”

“There’s going to be a meeting to discuss what Graves has done. I personally believe that he should be punished in accordance to what’s written down for men who act as rashly and harshly as he did.”

“Dad!” You gasp, dropping your fork entirely. It makes a tiny sound as it hits the porcelain of your plate, but you ignore the clanging noise. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“Omelia has a broken nose, [Name].”

“Omelia stole the last piece of mom I have left. He would have never given it back if his nose wasn’t broken.”

Looking back, maybe the violence was harsh and uncalled for. A punch might have sufficed. The brutality he’s capable of is simply excusable in your untainted mind. You reason that all soldiers must be capable of going through great lengths to protect and defend others. Isn’t that what he was doing? Protecting and defending you?

“If you vote to have him punished horribly, I won’t forgive you.”

Even if your bottom lip is trembling and your hands are shaking, your father can see that there’s some conviction behind your words. He’s never been one to deny you, his only daughter, and perhaps Graves is just young and brash.  

“Fine.” Your father says, appeasing you.

The clink of his fork tapping against his own plate sounds a bit too much like the first domino of his downfall.

“You never told me your name,” you’re standing with your arms crossed against your chest. The sunlight coming through one of the large windows hits your necklace, making it shine. He takes in your entire form, memorizing the shape and silhouette of your body. You’re a sight for sore eyes, at least.

“I’ve got a feeling you already know it, though.” He watches the way you fight down a smile at his remark. He bets you have a pretty smile.

You pull out the seat that’s across from him.

“I didn’t know you read.” You say. You’ve been plotting running into him for the past week now, and you know that he frequents the library every day for at least an hour. You’re not sure what he likes to read, but you doubt brushing up on the hockey romances on your Kindle will provide much conversation. You downloaded The Art of War and only made it past the first three pages before deciding that you’ll just manipulate the conversation into something not about books.

“You think about my literacy levels on your freetime, honey?”

All common sense evaporates the moment he calls you honey.

He teases you every time he talks to you (which, then again, isn’t very much), and so you’re certain there’s nothing genuine behind the pet name, but it still makes you undeniably giddy. No one’s ever called you something so sweet before.

Trying to appear unfazed and not as flustered as you feel, you eloquently reply back, “Um— I— No.”

He laughs, the same nice laugh that you can’t stop thinking about. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s most certainly laughing at you.

“Don’t feel bad. I think about you during my freetime, too.”

He can’t just go around saying stuff like that! It’s unfair! It’s… No one goes around saying stuff like that!

“What? Nothing to say to me now?” He’s grinning at you, book in his hand long-forgotten. You notice that it’s not mean, though, which makes you relax just the slightest.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.” You tell him. “People might take you seriously.”

“Well, they should. I am serious.”

And for a split second, he thinks he’s being a bit cruel. Mean, at the very least. The way you’re looking at him makes it plainly obvious that you’ve never been flirted with a day in your life.

The hopeful gleam in your bright eyes makes him believe his own lie, just for a brief moment.

It could be worse, he reasons with himself. There are worse people to pretend to fall in love with, after all.

You’ve never been gifted flowers before.

Maybe Phillip knows this. Maybe the insane amount of bouquets he’s gifting you is to make up for all that lost time. Maybe he’s just one of those people who believe in going big or going home.

Maybe he likes you as much as you like him.

You know how your father feels about dating. He’s a rather traditional man. Believes in the whole entire “ask him for permission before taking his little girl away from him” type of shit. Graves is thorough with his research, and even gathered the courage to ask your father for the chance to take you on a date.

It had been a risk—

—one that almost didn’t pay off.

He thinks his ears are still ringing from the shouts of your father. He’s heard reports that he’s a stoic man, for the most part, and isn’t one for conflict when there’s an option that avoids it. But he’s also a reasonable man, and so, Graves can’t necessarily fault him for the rant he went on.

You’re six years older than her! The hell are you doing trying to take her on a date?

He eventually calmed down, of course. Graves took the brunt of the screams pretty well, gave a whole long lecture on how he would never harm a hair on your precious head. He didn’t anticipate on liking you so much, and believe him, he’s been trying to fight down the feelings he’s harboring for you, but he knows he’ll regret not at least trying.

Your father is soft on you. You must talk about Graves more than he realizes it, because General [Surname] gives him his permission a lot easier than he planned on.

He almost feels bad for the way he’s playing your family like a fool.

Then he remembers the power he’ll receive once all is said and done, and he can almost ignore the lingering feelings of guilt.

He forgets everything when you walk through the doors of the library, surprised at the sight greeting you.

He’s made sure that everyone on base knows to avoid the library at all costs tonight, and he even retrieved the key from the librarian on hand after slipping him a twenty and whispering a quick threat about what will happen if he isn’t left alone in this building. Dealing with the closest florist available and strategically arranging all the bouquets to the point where the whole front entrance of the library is covered in red roses. The spines of the books, the front desks, every table — none of them are visible due to the sheer amount of flowers obscuring them from view.

“I don’t–? What?” You take in the scenery before looking at him. He’s got a large bouquet in his hand and a proud smile on his face, like he’s pleased with your reaction. You think this is a good thing.

“Told ya I was serious. Now you believe me?”

There are weeks that go by without the two of you ever even talking. Most days, you’re lucky enough to be walking past him on the base, and for a fleeting moment, he’ll shoot you a smile that’s so quick, you blink and he’s already long gone. You convince yourself that there’s a meaning to all of this, though. That distance must truly make the heart grow fonder, because why else are you collecting all the scraps you’re given and convincing yourself that they’re the only things keeping you full?

(It’s hard to face reality when you find yourself falling in love with the image of his back turned, walking away from you.)

And in your mind, you’re right. You’re pleased to find out that you’re not just some silly little teenage girl, falling in love with the first person who will give her the time of day. After all, this isn’t necessarily your first time experiencing what it’s like to be crushed on.

It is your first time being wowed by someone so much older and therefore unattainable.

It’s addicting — his attention. He can only gift you his affections so few and far between; every time you find yourself on the receiving end of it, you get dizzy from excitement and joy. This is someone who likes you. Someone who likes you so much, he does grand gestures like this to properly court you.

It’s not your fault, is what you’ll tell yourself in the future. Anyone would have fallen for his tricks.

Anyone would have fallen for him.

Being with Phillip is exciting. Your friends from school tell you it’s simply because he’s your first boyfriend — the word still makes you smile every time you think about it — but you know in your heart that it’s because it’s him that makes it exciting.

You like the way he teases you, not to mock you or to bully you, but because that’s just how he shows his affection. You like the way he’s better than all of your friends’ boyfriends because unlike them, Phillip is actually a man. He’s older, making him more knowledgeable about a lot of things. You like the way he never makes you lift a single finger; you think you’re almost forgetting how to do basic things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs and even putting on your seatbelt yourself. But he makes up for it by teaching you things.

Things like spreading your legs for him when he tells you to, even when you’re not expecting him to.

“Phillip, I—” You forget what you’re about to tell him the moment the moan escapes from your lipglossed lips. It’s your nineteenth birthday. Dad’s away on a mission. Phillip tells you he had to pull some strings to not get sent away, either, and the lengths he’ll go to keep you happy makes your heart flutter.

The two of you get into his fancy sports car, and he drives upstate to a quaint little bed and breakfast that he knows you’ve been doing research on. The two of you were supposed to be heading out for dinner right about now, but when you finished getting ready, something in your beloved boyfriend seemed to change.

Now you’re not having a birthday dinner.

Gripping the sheets and gasping as the cool air hits your bottom half because of the way Phillip flipped the skirt of your dress, you realize that at least one of you will be eating tonight.

“Phillip, we—we don’t have time to be doing this.” You weakly protest, no true conviction behind your words.

Before him, you would have never imagined how good one person can make you feel with just the tips of their fingers or strategic movements with their mouths. Now the flood of pleasurable memories travels from your mind to in between your thighs as you remember just what exactly Phillip Graves is capable of.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so soaked. I haven’t even done anything yet.” He murmurs, ignoring you entirely. He licks his lips, pressing quick, wet kisses against your inner thighs.

“Phillip, wh—what about dinner?” You fight the urge to instinctively buck your hips, but it gets harder to think reasonable thoughts whenever you feel him tugging at the waistband of your panties.

“You should’ve thought about that before wearing this slutty little dress. Were you trying to get the whole restaurant to fuck you with their eyes?” He practically spits out the sentences, and you’re momentarily shocked.

“I didn’t think it was…slutty.” You say, voice sounding as small as you feel. He can feel you practically shrinking away from him, and he mutters out a swear.

He doesn’t mean it. Doesn’t mean to be harsh with you; he knows you’re a sweet girl. He knows you would never have bad intentions.

But he’s not sweet. And he never has good intentions unless he’s the one benefitting.

And he can tell McHenry and even himself that this is all just a ploy to take down your father, but the moment he knew he had you wrapped around his finger was the same moment he realized that if he’s not the one protecting you from the dangers of men like him — maybe even men worse than him — then who will? It’s not like father dearest, for all his overbearing efforts, is doing that great of a job. Look at how easily Graves slipped through those defenses.

He’s doing right by you, is what he tells himself as he strips you of your panties, leaving you in just your pretty pink sundress. Men are wolves. They’ll take one look at you and eat you alive.

At least he has the decency and heart to make it a good time for you.

He presses a kiss against your clit, and you almost forgive him for his cruel words. Phillip makes everything so easy, including forgetting about any of his minor transgressions.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, even though you’re sure that he can’t even see the movement. He’s too busy with his head buried in between your thighs, kissing all over you, sucking hickeys on your thighs before his mouth meets right where you truly need him. You can’t even remember what he’s apologizing for the moment you feel him lapping up your juices before plunging his tongue inside your needy cunt as if it’s his right to do so.

Your hands find purchase in the thick locks of his hair rather than the bedsheets. Phillip has been doing this lately — eating you out, that is. The first time he had done it, you nearly cried from the sheer embarrassment of having someone so close to a part of you that is so intimate. You suppose, though, that if it had to be anyone, at least it’s him.

You always want it to be him.

You wonder if all men are like this. If all men plunge so deeply into the wet depths of their girlfriend’s pussy. Your walls flutter around his tongue, and the tip of nose seems to brush against your clit every so often, only adding to the overwhelming stimulation. Maybe it’s because you’ve never done this before him, or maybe it’s because he has a stronger effect on you than he should have, or maybe it’s because you’re just a sensitive girl — maybe it’s all of the fucking above. No matter the reason, all you know is that the pleasure Phillip is capable of handing out is nothing short of overwhelming.

You gasp and mewl out his name, letting out breathy moans of curse words — such filthy words have never left your mouth before he tainted you — and you keep tugging at his hair. He pulls away, your weak grip doing nothing to keep where you want him. Before you can complain, he immediately replaces his tongue with two fingers, scisscoring them inside of you, trying to stretch you out.

“Such a tight, little pussy.” He breathes out, chin wet with your slick and eyes darkened with lust. “Wonder if my pretty, little girlfriend can make me proud.”

“Huh?” Your pleasure-addled mind makes it hard for you to keep up with what he’s saying, and he only chuckles darkly at your clear confusion. He’s only been eating your sweet pussy for a few minutes, and you’re already too fucked out to even make conversation.

Cute. You’re too cute.

Fuck — he wants to keep you by his side forever. Even after his little con is over, and he gets the position he wants.

“You know what I wanna give you for your birthday, baby?” He’s still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight hole, and he relishes in the feeling of your walls contracting and squeezing against him. He decides to add in a third finger, which makes you gasp. He takes that opportunity to press his lips against yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and giving you a sloppy kiss. You think you can taste a hint of yourself on his tongue, and the dirtiness of it all makes you moan into his mouth. Everything right now is so filthy. You don’t know why you’re enjoying it so much.

“I wanna give you something special.” His voice is rough with lust, and the feeling of him curling his fingers in your tight cunt makes everything so hard to keep track of. All you can focus on is the heat coiling in your belly, and your eyes are glazed, barely able to look at him straight. “I want to give your little pussy something you deserve. I’m going to fuck my cum in you, and then when we go out to dinner, everyone is going to be able to see your wellbred pussy. How does that sound, hm? You want it? You want me filling your cunt with cum for the first time?”

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would have had the decency to be embarrassed at the way you cum all over his fingers, his words bringing you right to the edge.

“Oh? I think my baby likes the sound of that, huh? Just turned nineteen and already such a slut for me.” He’s still lazily thrusting his fingers in your cunt, and your walls are still spasming from the orgasm. “But you only act like this just for me, right?”

You nod too eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes. Only you. Only your slut, only want your cock, your cum.”

He’s already unzipping his pants, tugging down his briefs, freeing his cock from its confines. He removes his fingers from your wet hole, and your cum and juices act as lube as he uses it to wet his cock. In the back of his mind, even he’s aware of how far he’s taking this.

There’s no coming back from this — he knows this. But he’s still going to do it.

“You trust me, baby?” His eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation. He knows that he’s taken advantage of your naivety already; if you tell him to stop, he will. He expects to see nothing pure in your eyes, certain that he’s your ruination, only to have his heart skip a beat when he realizes that there’s only love and reverence in them. You’ve fallen for him, and he has no idea why he feels the way he does. Swallowing hard, he ignores his uneasy feelings in favor of giving into the one he knows he can actually control: lust.

You nod your head, eager to please him. His rough hands are gripping both your legs, easily exposing yourself to him, and you should feel incredibly vulnerable, but all you really feel is safe. It’s Phillip, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“Good girl.” His eyes travel down your body, stopping once to admire the amount of marks he’s left on your soft skin, and then stopping again the moment he sees his prize. Your pretty pussy is slick with arousal, tiny hole clenching around nothing. You want him; it’s clear as day. And he’ll give it to you, give you everything; any part of him that he can afford to give is yours for the taking.

What he’s doing is unforgivable.

He doesn’t want forgiveness, though.

His hands grip your waist as he sheaths himself into your virgin cunt, your previous orgasm allowing the movement to be slick. It’s far more gentle than Phillip would treat anyone else, but it’s merciless all the same. There is no room for resistance, and all you can do is moan out in pain and pleasure as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You thought your first time would be romantic. A room full of roses, at least, like when he first asked you out.

But it’s Phillip. As long as it’s him, you’re happy.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans out, voice sounding raspy as he watches your tiny hole taking his dick like it’s supposed to. You feel full, filled to the fucking brim, and the foreign feeling of it all has you confused and overwhelmed. There’s a slight sting, and you think you should wait for the pain to subside, but he’s already shallowly thrusting, and you choose to shut up.

Phillip knows best. Phillip would have waited if you were supposed to wait.

“Forgot how good virgin pussy feels.” His touch is possessive as his hands travels all over your body, exploring areas he’s already well acquainted with before gripping your hips once more. His thrusts are starting to get more aggressive, but you find that the pleasure outweighs the pain. All you can feel is Phillip.

For a second, you wonder how many girls he’s been with before. Then he leans down to give you a kiss, and you forget what you were worried about.

“Don’t worry too much, baby. Just relax, and let me fill your pussy. Then, I’ll take you out to your birthday dinner. How does that sound?”

Nice. It sounds nice. Actually, you wonder why you even cared about something as silly as a birthday celebration. Isn’t this good enough?

“Should I make you go out with no panties? You’re squeezing me so tightly, I bet your cunt can hold my cum all night.” He kisses your forehead, the action far too sweet, juxtaposing the rough thrusts of his hips slapping against yours. “Or maybe I’ve loosened you up too much, and it’ll just drip all over your thighs and onto the floor. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

You moan, imagining the filthy scenario in your head. Everyone would see; how humiliating. How exhilarating.

“At least everyone would know that you’re. Fucking. Mine.” He starts to punctuate every word with an especially rough thrust, and you can only moan as you lie there, taking it all. Taking everything he’ll give to you, and turning it into something sacred.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” You cry out, and you prove it. You’ve proved it by the slight blood painting his cock from when he took your virginity, and you prove it a step further by cumming all over his cock. This is the first time you’ve ever came on it; Phillip vows to make sure it’s not the last.

Even if it jeopardizes his own personal mission.

“Atta girl.” He groans out, practically hammering into you at this point. You’re fucked boneless, left to just serve as a cocksleeve as he chases after his own pleasure. Phillip is surprisingly meticulous. He’s usually better at keeping himself composed, never one to give in to instinctual, animalistic pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he knows the risk, has even calculated it. He’s never done something as stupid and reckless as fucking a girl raw.

But no girl has ever been as sweet as you, as trusting as you. It’s the lust talking as he imagines you as the mother of his children. You’d be kind and patient, teach them to be better. They wouldn’t become fuckups like him if you’re there to raise them.

He can see it. He’s always been good at envisioning his future. Coming home to you barefoot and carrying his kids isn’t so bad. It’d be nice. He’d build you your dream house, make sure you always stay bred and dripping with his cum, keep you safe.

All of these thoughts only serve to bring him to the edge, and he makes sure he’s as deep in you as possible as his warm cum shoots inside. He refuses to pull out, and you don’t tell him to. Why would you? You feel closer to him than ever, and he’s kissing your forehead now, cooing that you’ve been such a good girl for him.

You’re tired. You felt like you’ve barely done anything, and yet your eyes are droopy and your vision is getting blurred. You still find the strength to mumble it out, though.

I love you.

He freezes up immediately, but when he looks down at you, you’re already fast asleep.

He’s got you hook, line, and fucking sinker.

So why doesn’t he feel like celebrating?

“Dad, what’s going on?” Your confusion is evident on your face. Your father has his hands pinned to his back, and there are men in scary uniforms yelling at you, and you’re frozen in place. “Dad, tell them that this is a mistake!”

“I’m going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” Your dad’s words of reassurance do little to console you; it’s kind of hard to believe what he’s saying whenever he’s quite literally getting arrested by men who are supposed to respect him.

You’ve just gotten back from a date with Phillip. He had seemed a bit off, but you brushed aside his odd behavior as a result of his nervousness. After all, he ended up presenting you with a promise ring. You don’t think he’s ever given someone something so precious and important.

Your good mood obviously disappeared the moment you walked through your front door.

“You’re innocent. You know nothing. They’re going to make sure that you stay in a safe place while I’m gone, okay? Just do what they tell you, and wait for me to get back—”

“Dad, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” The desperation and anxiety in your voice makes him frown, but there’s nothing he can do as the officers drag him out of the house. Despite your screams of protest, they don’t stop, and even you know hitting an officer would only make things worse. It’s not as if you could have done any real damage anyway.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The worst part is, you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

They’re calling your father a traitor. And by extension, you are one, too. A child is but a reflection of their parents, after all.

Your mother was an enemy spy, and your father knew. Even worse, he protected her. Broke his own moral code, broke the rules of his training, destroyed everything — all for her. The proof was hidden inside his own office, and you don’t even know how someone could have broken in to obtain such incriminating evidence.

Now everyone is treating you like a criminal, down to giving you only one phone call. Naturally, the only person you can think to phone is Phillip. He’ll understand. He’ll calm you down, explain everything to you because that’s just what he does. He’ll know what to do. He’ll get you out of this mess.

You bite down on your lip, impatiently waiting for him to pick up. Usually, he picks up after the second ring, but the dial tone goes on for what seems like ages until you hit the automated voicemail message. You frown, wondering if he’s been sent away. You try again for good measure, but he doesn’t pick up the second time, either. You’re about redial and try for a third time before the woman supervising you snatches the phone away.

“It’s supposed to be one call, remember?”

You don��t talk back, afraid to make things worse, but you don’t think it’s fair. Phillip didn’t even pick up for it to count as a phone call.

You try again and again. Every time they make you move to a different safehouse, you waste that one phone call opportunity on him, daring to hope that he’ll pick up.

After a month, the dial tone haunts you in your sleep.

Hindsight truly is 20/20. When you’re free from the haze of first loves and rebellion, when the smoke of lust has dissipated from the air, when you’re given nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, that’s when everything starts coming together.

That’s when you can see a traitor for what they are, not what they tell you to view them as.

On the way to the next safehouse, they had to stop at a gas station. You had to learn to be sneaky these days, and the old you would have felt incredibly guilty at the idea of stealing a pregnancy test, but you refuse to ask your handler for one. Pride is the cause — or maybe shame is more accurate.

Whatever the reason is, you find yourself locked up in a gas station bathroom, your worst fears confirmed.

[ja3hwa]

Day 27 : Hybrid - Yeosang

「Title」 : My Heart Is With The Sea

「Word count」 : 2.76k

-> Genre: Fantasy Au. Smut. Fluff. Angst. Comedy.

Paring: Pirate!Yeosang x Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Warlock Hybrid Yeosang. Swearing. Gross drunk men. Mention of harassment. Hero Yeosang. Powers. Fire blades. Mention of a saloon. Old-timey words. Pet names. Saliva kink. Big dick Yeo. Sub reader. Dom Yeosang. Dirty talk. Details of the reader's body fitting into a curvy plus stature. Begging. Unprotected sex. Cumming inside. Slight breeding kink. Fingering. Yeosang is a cocky bitch. Mention of a Woosan relationship. Poly relationship mentioned. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: I made the reader Plus size since I've been feeling really shit about my body image so yee. Also, I wanted to write more but I've run out of time so if this gets good attention and people want more. I'll be more than happy to turn this into a min series. And I was making this a JongSan fic but again since I ran out of time I could do Jongho's scenes.

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar.

It was like any other day. The air was riddled with the smell of the salty sea that was just over the bend of the hill. Loud men filled your ears with drunken nonsense in between slurps of their ale. It wasn't even midday, but yet, at least twenty men were already on the floor. But you guess it's happy hour somewhere beyond the big blue.

You sigh, picking up three glasses before putting them on your tray and moving towards the bar in a swift motion in order to avoid creepy men's hands. Most didn't mean to play rough, but most men just have sticky fingers. You knew you'd get harassed because this is the type of job you got. And most of the time, it didn't phase you, but you knew it annoyed others more than you.

"You lay a hand on her again, and you will lose those fingers." Yeosang barked, picking up the drunk guy that was hunched on his chair by the shirt collar. Yeosang's free hand was held behind him but not out of the men's view. The whole table saw out a blade made of fire magically appeared in the shaggy-haired male. They were nothing but shitting their pants, feeling anxious about angering the warlock.

"We are sorry about our friend Sir Kang. Please forgive his foolish actions." One of the less drunken men at the table slurred. It was as if they all suddenly sobered up, feeling a tension simmer through the whole saloon.

"How about I punish you anyway. Just to prove a point." Yeo smirked, loving to see fear consume such pitiful excuses of humankind. They all jumped to their friends' defence, making the bar roar with loud shouting. You sighed, having lost the fun while watching the interaction. So you whistled loudly, getting everyone's attention, including your brooding Vaelock lover.

"Alright, ladies. You've had your fun. Now fuck off before I send word to the knights." And just like that, all the men from the table piled out through the front door in a hurry. They were like puppies running away with their tails between their legs. But you knew when the sun set by the next few hours, they'd be back. They always came back.

Yeosang dropped his power, fixing his jacket slightly before waltzing over to you with a sly smirk. It always made him feel power when he got to hurt or scare men, but it made him feel even more powerful when it was that he was protecting you. He leaned against the large dark oak bar while he watched you behind it, placing the empty and half-empty tall pint glasses into the wash-up tub. He just stood there for a moment, watching you with abortion in his eyes. He watched how your hair would fall in front of your face when you bent down for something. Or how you had tucked your shirt into your pants today. It sat nicely on your plump figure. And he can't let his eyes wander too much as they land on your lips. Your very kissable lips. The lips he loves so much, especially when they are wrapped around his co—

"You got such a staring problem." You mumbled with a small smile, making him suddenly look away with a blush painting his features.

"I do not." He feels slight embarrassment from his dirty thoughts only moments ago. At least you couldn't read minds. "I'll be off by the coming hour." He changed the subject.

"Off on another adventure." You sigh softly, feeling a little lump in your throat form. You knew his life was on the sea, but it always made you nervous when he left. The waves can be large and unforgiving. Just as the weather can be cruel. His life can easily be taken away, and it kept you up at night whenever he felt for the docks.

"Yes. Captain said he found some news on Atlantis city. If we find it, we will finally be able to be done with these wanted posters and outlaw crap." Yeosang spoke with only a small amount of distance in his tone. Like he was off in his own world. They had been looking for this cromer thing for months with the idea that they could get redemption from the kingdom of East Valley. And how did they disrespect the kingdom, you may ask...well, that was a very long story. But in the shortest way to put it, they angered the king.

And why might a king be mad at a group of immature pirates? Simple. They are pirates, and royalty just has something against the lower class, especially those who bend the rules and live out on the sea. And because San and Wooyoung slept with the Princess....at the same time...

They went to East Valley on a job. To find a cromer for this warlock, but in toe, figured out that the King was the one who had it stolen from the old wizard years and years ago. So they needed to get into the castle, grab it, and leave. Like they weren't ever there. But the Princess saw San and Wooyoung and when Seonghwa told them to keep her distracted, he didn't think they would fuck her...

"Wait... You are looking for Atlantis city?!" Your voice came out strained and uneasy. This caught Yeosangs attention, tilting his head in concern.

"Yes. I thought I told you months ago?"

"You said you were looking for a hidden kingdom. I couldn't have guessed Atlantis." You were worried. Anyone who goes looking for such a place nine out of ten turn up dead or go missing. Worry clouded your mind, feeling your breath quicken. Yeosang suddenly jumps the bar so he can stand next to you. His body heat melted your cold, anxious thoughts. He leant his head on top of yours, holding you tightly in his arms. He knew of your worry and how to beg for him to stay. And he felt guilty every time he left. But he loves the sea and wouldn't see a life without it. But he also couldn't see a life without you. He was stuck at a crossroads.

"I'll be safe. You know I will. Hwa is an excellent navigator. And the captain would never put us in danger for anything. We come first." His words made you feel better, slightly. He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eyes. They were filled with tears, just waiting to be let out. You didn't want to cry. But your emotions seemed to have other plans.

"Just promise me. Promise none of you will get hurt ..."

He had to chuckle at the fact you referenced everyone. You had grown close to his crew since the day you met. Yeosang obviously tried to keep you for himself for a while, but alas, the others also found interest in you. Little did they know you were actually bedded with Yeosang already.

"None of us will be in danger. I promise." He gave you a small kiss on your forehead. It was a moment of peace in his arms. Like the world had stopped. You were the first to pull away, putting down the bar rag and moving things around to keep your hands occupied. Yeosang chuckled at your flustered state, suddenly recalling the dirty thoughts he had prior. And then a new thought came to mind.

"You know..." He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your pants before pulling your body back into his. Your back flushed against his chest he leaned down so his face could sit nicely in your neck. "I could go for a parting gift. Something for me to remember while out at sea."

Your face flushed red and you looked around the large opened room, thanking the gods that the only customers that were still in the bar were either passed out of too far to hear your lover's filth idea.

"I..." You were going to decline out of embarrassment, but then the idea simmered in your mind making your thigh clench at the thought. "My shift finishes in ten minutes."

He chuckled darkly at you, giving your neck a few kisses for saying. "You know where to find me." Leaving, you flustered while he walked out of the bar as if nothing just happened.

-

"Yeosang!!" You moaned feeling a slight burn at the twisted position you were in. Your legs were hung over his shoulders while he practically bent you in half as he pounded into you. His teeth grazed against your neck as his muscles tensed from the exertion. Your hands fly to find something to hold onto, gasping out moans as his hands find yours. His fingers lace with yours before pinning them to the mattress.

“I’ll make sure to fill your cup. So you are nice and full while I’m gone.” Yeosang grunted, feeling sweat beads form against his hairline.

You whine in response, his words weren't fully registering in your pleasured-filled mind. You were so lost in the grunts and pants he spilled into your ears as he pressed so deep, fucking into the perfect spot that had your thighs quivering on either side of his head. Your plump legs were dropped to a more comfortable position on his waist as he gripped your cheeks with his fingers. Your mouth opened instinctively as he pursed his lips, gathering saliva before spitting it in your mouth and smothering your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. Teeth clanking together from the punishing thrusts as his hips rutted yours.

“My pretty Darling. Mine… All of this is mine.” A sick smile curled his lips, goosebumps lining his skin when your shaky hands found their way up his chest and to his shaggy black hair. Fingers tangling in it as you blubbered incoherent words, a shift in his hips tensing your body and making your hands tug the sweat-dampened strands. He’s strained from the angle of his head being pulled back. The column of his neck looked as if it was begging to be marked up as you pulled him down to you, latching your lips to his pulse point and sucking harshly on the skin. His vulgar sounds vibrated against your mouth as his warm right hand slipped between your slick bodies to toy with your clit. Your back arches painfully at the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck Yeo... Please FUccckk.” You scream throwing your head back feeling Yeosang press sloppy circles to your sensitive bud while his thrusts suddenly lose their rhythm. He suddenly wanted to see your face, so, picking up his hand slightly he waved a finger in the air, making your hands tug off his hair within a second. You try to move your hands away from either side of your face but alas, his power that bands an invisible cuff around them made it impossible.

“Come on baby, whose cock is this, hmm?”

You mumble inaudibly over the wet sounds of skin slapping. His lips brushed over yours mixing his breath with yours. His hips snap forward, his thick cock ramming into a spot that got you seeing stars. His hand leaves leave your clit, one gripping your hip, bruising the soft curves while the other grabs a hand full of your large bust. “I asked you a question, Doll..”

 “Mine- mine, all mine-“ you finally cried out, words slurring together from the seemingly permanent fog that had settled over your mind. He finally let your hands free from his hold in a silent gesture for his next move.

“Prove it then.”

“I can’t- I- Yeo, please-“ you cry, tears pooling in your eyes while your fingers slip down to dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders. The stinging sensation only urged him to keep going while a shaky moan escapes his lips.

“You can do it, Darling. Take what’s yours.” He demanded, jaw clenched tight and pace faltering. Your ankles hooked together at the base of his back, heels digging into the spot to pull him impossibly deeper as you frantically rocked your hips against him along with his thrusts. Yeosang grunts in a pleased response, head dipping down to bite a mark to your shoulder as his cock twitched in your velvety walls. Your orgasm tore through you like a wildfire. Stealing the breath from your lungs and making your body convulse. His guttural moan was almost barely heard over the roaring in your ears as hot spurts of his cum filled you.

Your body was worn out when he slipped from between your shaking thighs. A soft whine pulled from your throat when you felt his middle and ring finger against your cunt, pressing the seed that had seeped from you back into your walls. Your overstimulated cunt already clenched around the digits and body fully reacting to the shocks of pleasure as he finger fucks you.

“Best parting gift ever,”

-

Yeosang ran over the dock as fast as his legs to take him. The ship was in sight, and his heartbeat finally could rest easy, knowing his captain wasn’t just going to up and leave him like he had been threatened in the past. His feet land on the familiar oak beauty. He spots his friends scattered around the deck, one in particular―a like blonde―shaking his head in annoyance.

“Next time we leave you.” The blonde shouts heading up to the stern deck where the wheel is. Yeosang just huffed out in response, turning his attention to the redhead and his feline-featured lover.

“So how was it?” Wooyoung giggled.

Yeosang choked looking dumbfounded. “What?!”

“You know. How was she? Or he. Or both. I don’t judge.”

“Shut up Wooyoung.” Jongho suddenly appeared from the captain's quarters fixing his overcoat slightly. “Don’t you have a kitchen to stock?”

Wooyoung went to reply with a snarky remark but San pulled him away with a small smile telling him to drop it. Yeosang shook his head slightly glancing over at the younger male. The ravened hair man waltzed over slowly, keeping his unreadable expression until he stood only centimetres away from him.

“She okay?” He spoke softly knowing exactly where he had been for the past couple of hours. Yeo had to chuckle at his words as sudden flashes of your fucked out expression and blissful moans echoed in his mind.

“Uh yeah. Last time I checked.” he couldn’t hide the smug smirk on his face.

“Last time you checked uh-huh.” Jongho smirked lightly hitting his shoulder while nodding.

Yeo just bit his lip, watching Jongho walk away.

-

“Cap, what's the plan?” Yunho tilted his head until he heard a crack. Seonghwa was pacing around the large map on the big oak table. “Do we travel west?”

“If he cut through this roar he can make it to the caving island before the storm hits,” Mingi spoke up an idea, making the captain nod slowly, leaning into his chair ever so slightly.

“Do it. Three days will be added to our trip, but we'll make it happen.” Hongjoong waved his hand, standing up before turning to look out the window, seeing the dark clouds approaching east. The rest of the crew gear up for the sudden travel. Heading west to a small island riddled with caves big enough to hold a ship until the storm blows over.

-

“This storm is getting bad out there. They should be okay right…” You stood by the water's edge as your friend Livera played with a stick in the sand making random scribbles.

“I’m sure they are fine. Besides the storm is probably not that bad.” The red hair knelt down finding a crab suddenly emerging from under the sand. She bit her lip in excitement, eyes widening with sparkle inside them.

“I just… What if―Bubs if you are so worried, why don’t you go find out?” Her big soft ears that were perched on the top of her head twitch while her tail bright red tail wags slowly.

You turn your attention away from the sweet fox, noticing how the waves crash against the bank as if the ocean calls for you to join it. “Maybe I will.”

And you run straight into the water before diving in deep.

- Part Two -

-

Ateez Masterlist

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[mint-yooxgi]

{22} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Yunho, Mingi, San, and a tad of Yeosang and Hongjoong)

Words: 10,887

Warnings: Blood mentioned, minor violence. A real bad headache. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Finally, the moment I have been waiting for!! Ehehehe, I am so excited for the next chapter to come out since it’s what I've been planning since the beginning. The bombshell is finally here!!! I really hope you all enjoy this part and will look forward to the upcoming chapters. I have a lot planned! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Mini Masterlist

Waking up with a headache is certainly not on your list of things to do today. Alas, as soon as you feel the edges of consciousness returning to you, you can feel a small pounding in your head. There seems to be one spot in particular that the pain radiates from, but it’s faint enough that you can ignore it for now. Besides, you have more important things to be focusing on.

The pillow you are resting on steadily rises and falls along with your every breath, a content hum sounding against your ear. You smile in response, subconsciously shifting closer.

Faintly, you register low laughter rumbling out from beneath you.

“You’ve been holding her all night,” you briefly hear Yunho’s low voice coming from beside you, feeling a hand resting on your lower back, who’s thumb strokes gently over your skin beneath your shirt.

“It’s not my fault she draped herself over me in her sleep,” you hear Mingi reply, somewhat giddily.

True to his words, you realize that you are quite literally laying half on top of him right now. Your head rests comfortably on his chest, arms wrapped securely around his torso as your one leg is tossed over his thighs.

A smile pulls at your lips as you hear his heart begin racing at the way you tighten your grip around him the slightest bit. You hum contently.

“Good morning, Starlight,” Mingi lightly trails the tips of his fingers over the side of your face, caressing you softly. 

“Good morning, Min,” you reply, voice low as sleep still clings to the edges.

“Did we wake you?” Yunho leans the slightest bit closer to you, and you can feel his one leg pressing up against yours beneath the sheets.

You shake your head, a soft ‘no’ leaving your lips as your eyes remain closed for the moment. You are more than content to continue laying in their embrace like this for the time being, seeing as you are much too comfortable to move.

“Did you sleep well?” Mingi asks, hand moving to cup your cheek tenderly as his thumb strokes gently over your skin.

A content hum leaves your lips as you nod. “Very.”

You shift the slightest bit, turning more to lay on your side and feeling just how close Yunho really is to your back as his chest presses against you. Slowly, your eyelids flutter open, looking up to see Mingi already staring at you with such a fond gaze.

Exactly three days have passed since your little escapade in the cinema room, and you’ve noticed how all of them have been that much more affectionate with you lately. If one of them doesn’t have their arm wrapped around your shoulders, or your waist, another is holding your hand, or resting theirs on the small of your back. You’ve taken the liberty to have one or more of them spend the night with you since the second day had passed, feeling the need to have the comfort of their presence with you as much as they have yours.

Which is exactly how you find yourself curled between both Mingi and Yunho right now.

“I always sleep better when I’m holding onto something,” you remind them, and you watch as a brilliant smile stretches across Mingi’s face.

“You can hold onto me for as long as you’d like, Starlight,” he leans in to place a tender kiss onto the skin of your forehead, loving the way you stare back at him with wide eyes as he pulls away.

Little do you realize the pout that Yunho wears behind you.

“I really appreciate that, Min,” you smile, hand coming up to rest on top of his chest for the moment. “You both seriously don’t know just how severely touch starved I am.”

“We’re all more than happy to hold you whenever, wherever you’d like, Petal,” Yunho keeps his voice low, placing a tender kiss onto the nape of your neck. “For however long you want us to.”

Now, a pout begins to pull at Mingi’s features as he watches you turn around in his arms to face his brother, much to Yunho’s content.

“Thank you, Universe,” a pleased hum escapes your lips as you curl yourself against his chest, tossing your leg over his waist in the next moment. “You too, Moonlight.” You turn your body just enough to look back at him from over your shoulder, noticing how Mingi's pout immediate softens into a small smile as he sees you gazing so fondly at him. “I appreciate you staying.”

“We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Mingi’s response is immediate, and you can feel both of their chests hum in content against you.

A soft smile pulls at your features as you reach behind you to grab Mingi’s arm, wrapping it around yourself, and tucking it into your chest as you turn back around to face Yunho once more. Immediately, Mingi follows your movements, chest pressing against your back as you curl yourself into Yunho’s embrace. You absolutely adore the way you can feel Yunho’s one hand settle onto the skin of your thigh, thumb stroking tenderly against you.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you allow yourself to absolutely revel in this moment with the two of them.

“I love you,” you hum out, lips tugging upwards slightly. “Both of you.”

Soft rumbles of contentment reach your ears from the both of them, feeling them hold you the slightest bit tighter within their embrace.

“I love you, Starlight,” Mingi breathes, hand squeezing yours tenderly as you continue to hold his against your chest. “More than words can describe.”

“And I love you, too, Petal,” Yunho voices lowly, a small smile gracing his features as he stares into your eyes. “More than anything.”

A gentle kiss is placed against the back of your head, curtesy of Mingi, just as you feel Yunho lean in to rest his forehead against your own. Not even five minutes later, and your breathing evens out, allowing yourself to succumb to sleep once more.

Some time later, you are awoken to the sounds of the two males bickering lowly yet again. It seems as if this time, you have released your hold on Mingi’s arm in favour of tossing your own over Yunho’s side. You can still feel Yunho’s hand pressing securely against your thigh, but you also feel another one just above his own, resting dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

Only, the elder of the two doesn’t seem to like that fact very much.

“Move your hand.” His voice rumbles out, shooting a pointed look at the younger from over the top of your head.

“No.” Mingi counters. “You move yours.”

“I was holding her first,” Yunho replies, quite pointedly.

“Yeah, and she’s now wrapped herself around you,” Mingi sounds just the tiniest bit bitter when he says this.

“Oh, boo-hoo. You spent the whole night having her rest practically on top of you.” Yunho retorts. “It’s my turn, now.”

“It’s not my fault I’m comfortable.” Mingi huffs, shifting his hand down your thigh and purposely pushing Yunho’s hand off of you.

“Well, now, so am I!” Yunho practically hisses back, shoving Mingi’s hand off of you only to replace it with his own in the next instant.

“Back. Off.” Mingi harshly whispers through clenched teeth, once more swiping Yunho’s hand away to place his own back onto your thigh.

“No, you back off.” Yunho replies, pointedly, smacking Mingi’s hand away in the next moment.

This goes back and forth for about another twenty seconds, vaguely hearing them keep smacking each other’s hands away only to replace the other’s with their own. You have half the mind to start giggling at their antics in your semi-awake state. That is, until you feel a small smack land on the side of your thigh.

You twitch in shock.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- will you both knock it off?” You huff, eyes flashing open to see Yunho already staring at you with wide eyes.

“Way to go, genius, you ended up hitting her instead,” Mingi scoffs, and you can just tell he’s rolling his eyes at his brother.

“No thanks to you,” Yunho glares at the younger from over your head before turning his gaze to you. Immediately, his expression is softening, worry taking over his features. “I’m so sorry, Petal. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” your answer has him nearly breathing a sigh of relief, “but seriously. Stop bickering, or else I’ll kick you both out and ask Yeosang to come stay with me instead.”

They both stiffen at this, sharing a narrowed eye look between each other.

This is all your fault. Mingi frowns, shooting a pointed look at Yunho.

Me? This is all because of you! Yunho replies, exasperatedly.

“You called?” The sound of Yeosang’s low voice draws your attention to the end of your bed.

“Great!” Mingi huffs, lips tugging downwards as he meets Yunho’s gaze. “Now look at what you did.”

“Me?” Yunho voices, incredulously. “How is this my fault?”

You briefly meet Yeosang’s gaze, and your exasperated stare says it all.

“I’m about to physically kick you both out of bed if you don’t stop arguing with each other,” you warn, shifting onto your back for the moment.

“He started it,” Mingi grumbles, that all too familiar pout back on his lips.

Your hands come up to rub at your eyes, still feeling that familiar throbbing within your skull.

“It’s too early for this,” you sigh, shaking your head teasingly. “Besides, I’m starting to get a headache.”

Immediately, worry takes over all three of their features.

“Are you okay, Petal? Do you want one of us to heal you?” Yunho gently places a hand onto your forehead, checking your temperature.

“I’ll be fine. I probably just need more sleep,” you assure him, placing your hand overtop of his own and pulling it off of your forehead. Then, playfully, you shoot two pointed looks at the men beside you, “which I would be doing if some people weren’t being big babies over who gets to hold me.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Yeosang standing at the foot of your bed with an amused look on his face. His one brow is quirked as he crosses his arms over his chest, grin tugging at his lips.

“Starlight,” Mingi whines, “you cannot blame us. We just love holding you in our arms.”

“And I love spending time with you guys, no matter the context,” you reply, feeling how the two males on either side of you shift the slightest bit closer into your sides as smiles tug at all of their features. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue to be surrounded by the people I love.”

“We can do that,” Yunho immediately replies, leaning his head into you so that his face is practically buried in your neck.

The corner of your lips tugs upwards as you settle deeper into your sheets. Only, the way you notice Yeosang seemingly starting to turn away from you to leave the room has a small pout pulling at your features.

“Where are you going, Yeosangie?” Your voice immediately draws his attention back to you to see you already staring at him with your lips tugging downwards dramatically. 

He quirks a brow in response.

Lifting your arms, you motion for him to join you with your hands outstretched in front of you. “Come here.”

Yeosang does not need to be told twice. Instantly, he’s crawling onto the bed and over your body, resting himself between your legs as his head settles onto your chest. The feeling of your arms wrapping around his torso is simply icing on the cake.

“I said I wanted to be surrounded by the people I love,” you hum, knowingly. Your one hand shifts to begin threading your fingers through Yeosang’s hair, and the hum of content you let out is synonymous with their own. “If any of you have a problem with this, you can leave.”

“Not at all, Starlight,” Mingi shifts that much closer into your side, hand coming up to rest on your one shoulder as he leans his head into yours.

“We are more than content to spend time with you like this,” Yunho adds, practically mirroring Mingi’s position on your opposite side.

“We love you, Dearest,” Yeosang’s voice rumbles out, turning his head to place a kiss directly over your heart and loving the way he can feel it flutter beneath his touch yet again.

“And I love you,” you hum, contently, allowing your eyes to fall shut. “All of you.”

A small silence settles over the four of you as you rest in each other’s embrace. The steady hum of your heartbeat begins to sync with all of their own, smiles pulling onto each one of their faces as they are more than content to rest like this with you for the moment.

You nearly let out a sigh in bliss. That is, until your eyes are flinging open in the next second.

“I have a problem.” Immediately, three worried sets of eyes are on you. You blink, somewhat sheepishly. “I need to pee.”

Five minutes later, and you’re back in bed with the three of them after freshening up in the bathroom. Again, a content sigh escapes you lips as you manage to fall back into the realm of dreams once more.

About an hour and a half later, you feel consciousness returning to your form. Luckily, all three of them are perfectly content to lay with you for a little while longer as you fully wake up, resting in each other’s arms for the time being. That is, until finally, you decide that you should actually get up and out of bed for the day.

“We have another council meeting soon, anyways,” Yeosang informs you, all three of them sitting on the edge of your bed as you change into some fresh clothes.

Sure enough, a few hours later, you walk into the foyer to see all eight of them wearing what appears to be white military style jackets with black pants.

As soon as you see them, you freeze in your spot, breath catching in your throat. Again, each style that they wear is unique to them, and you cannot help the way your gaze trails over every single one of their figures slowly.

“Okay, you all need to warn me if you’re going to look this good all the time,” you blink, attempting to control your thoughts for the moment.

At least a few of them, like Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung, have the decency to look bashful. The others, however, have the gall to look smug, smirks pulling at their features.

“We’re just happy to know that we can affect you like this, Darling.” Jongho grins, smoothing out the front of his jacket.

“Is this how you all felt seeing me in a corset? Cause if so, I understand.” You nod subtly, eyes continuing to trail over their figures slowly.

This time, all of them cannot stop themselves from smiling.

“Seriously, you all look very handsome,” you continue.

“Thank you, Gorgeous,” Wooyoung can barely stop himself from shaking in happiness, a brilliant smile stretching across his features as he continues to stare at you from across the room.

“I kid you not-“ your breath catches as if you’ve realized something. “Wait,” a devious grin pulls at your lips as you drop to your knees in an instant, hands outstretched in front of you for emphasis, “I am on my knees.”

“Petal,” Yunho chuckles, a pride unlike any other swirling within his chest as you continue to joke around with them. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Your wide eyed gaze locks with his own. “Have you seen yourselves?”

Collectively, they all share a look between one another, brows quirked as a smugness washes over all of them.

“My fucking word, how do you expect me to survive when you all look like this?” You go on to say, swooning once more dramatically as you stand back to your feet.

Instantly, San has you in his arms, holding onto you as if you fainted right into his embrace. The cheeky grin you can see pulling at his lips has one of your own tugging at your features.

“Uh-oh, if you’re not going to survive, perhaps someone should stay back and watch over you,” he chuckles. “And by someone I mean me.”

“Like hell you’ll be the one to take care of her. Alone,” Jongho crosses his arms in front of his chest.

The two glare at each other for a moment, and you cannot help but chuckle, righting yourself back onto your own feet, much to San’s disappointment.

“Nah, Yunho’s right,” you smile. “I’m just being dramatic. I’ll be fine.”

At the pout San gives you, you’re quick to pat the side of his arm reassuringly. Then, in the blink of an eye, you’re gripping the side of his jaw so you can lean in to place a kiss onto his cheek.

The giddy smile you receive from him in response is immediate, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he giggles.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you pat his arm once more, stepping out of his embrace and sending a final wave to all of them.

Just as you watch them disappearing from view, you hear Wooyoung whining about how he wants a good luck kiss from you as well. Though, from the looks on all of their faces, he’s not the only one thinking the same thing.

You chuckle to yourself as soon as you’re alone, shaking your head lovingly at their antics. However, just as you go to turn around, you hear someone reappear behind you. Glancing up, you notice Mingi making his way towards you quite steadily from a few feet away.

“I forgot something,” he mumbles, coming to stand right in front of you.

You simply quirk a brow at him in response. “What did you forget?”

Briefly, his eyes search your face for any sign of discomfort or hesitance. At the way he can see a grin tugging at your features, he knows that there is none.

“This.” 

Instantly, he has his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls you flush into his chest. His lips gently find purchase on your own, a content rumble vibrating in his chest as he feels your hands wrap around his back, pressing him even closer into you.

Slowly, he pulls away, resting his forehead against your own. His eyes remain closed, absolutely revelling in this moment with you as he holds you to him, his hand splayed on the small of your back. At the way you lean in to peck his lips once more, smiling all the while, he can feel his heart absolutely fluttering in his chest.

“Better?” You giggle, your one hand coming up to cup the side of his cheek as your thumb begins to stroke gently over his skin.

“Better.” He confirms, a slight nod to his head as that giddy smile takes over his features. “Though, I should probably get back, now.”

“Be safe, Moonlight,” you lean in to peck his lips once more.

“I promise to return to you without a scratch,” he says, moving the slightest bit away from you as he allows his touch to linger on your skin for as long as possible.

“You better,” you teasingly poke his chest. “The only one allowed to leave scratches on you is me.”

A low growl graces your ears as he immediately pulls you flush against him for the second time in the past five minutes. “You’re giving me too many ideas, Starlight. Are you trying to make it that much more impossible for me to leave you?”

“I’m just informing you of what is still yet to come, Moonlight,” a sultry grin pulls at your lips, and you watch him swallow.

“One word.” He breathes. “One word, Starlight, and you won’t have to worry about being alone this evening at all.”

His voice is nothing but a low drawl as he stares deeply into your eyes with a hooded gaze. You can feel the growl building in his chest, low and primal, as his look continues to darken with every passing second. He licks his lips.

Just as he goes to lean in for another kiss, the clearing of someone’s throat behind you has you freezing in your tracks.

“Mingi, let’s go.” Seonghwa’s voice is low, pointed, as the eldest glares at the younger’s back.

Heaving a great sigh, Mingi is quick to be the one to peck your lips this time. “Until next time, Starlight.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Mingi pulls himself away from you as Seonghwa watches on with a scrutinizing gaze. A pout pulls at the younger’s lips as he trudges over to where the eldest stands with his arms crossed. A frown rests on Seonghwa’s features, eyes pointedly locked on Mingi’s figure as he stops just beside the elder male.

Seonghwa immediately turns to look at you, gaze softening as his shoulders relax. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Alright, Mars,” you smile softly, blinking once. “Be safe, My Kings.”

The pleased growls that echo throughout the room as they disappear have your smile widening, noticing how they both had nodded once firmly before leaving you to your own once more.

A moment later, your head throbs, and you cannot help the way you hunch over. Your one hand comes up to cradle the side of your temple, feeling that one spot pinch quite harshly in pain. Squeezing your eyes shut, you attempt to catch your breath.

Seems as if this headache won’t leave you alone. Oddly enough, you’ve noticed them becoming worse over the past few days, always lingering in the back of your mind. Perhaps you should get one of them to heal you once they get back. This is really starting to get annoying.

Meanwhile, Mingi gets an earful from all of them as soon as both he and Seonghwa reappear in the throne room. Though, from the way that lovestruck smile tugs at his features, they know he doesn’t really care all that much about what they’re saying to him. Going back to see you without the others was absolutely worth it, even if they’re reaming his ass out right now.

Then, Mingi blinks, a knowing quirk to his brow. “Don’t we have a council to attend?”

Yeosang sighs, exasperatedly.

“This isn’t over,” Wooyoung grumbles, shooting a pointed glare at his brother.

A minute later, after they’ve all composed themselves properly, and Mingi has straightened out his blazer once more, the eight of them are finally entering the grand hall. All of them are ready to start this council, and get it over with as quickly as possible. Besides, they have more important matters to deal with, like who will get to spend the night with you.

As soon as their figures breach the doorway, all bodies in the room are bowing to them in respect. With a flick of his wrist, Hongjoong motions for them all to rise from their knees, beginning this meeting without another thought.

“Any word from our allies?” Hongjoong’s eyes scan the crowd, simply waiting for someone to step forward with news for all of them.

“The harpies have agreed to support us in any upcoming battles,” Jax informs them all after bowing his head lowly. He takes a small step forward. “The Three Sisters have pledged their allegiance once more to the Eight Kings.”

“That’s good news,” Yunho observes casually, an impressed nod to his head.

Yeah, probably cause they’re hoping to bed Hwa again, Jongho snickers quietly, acting all innocent in the next second as the eldest turns to glare at the youngest.

“We have managed to infiltrate one of the rebel’s hideouts,” another demon, Vera, adds as she steps forwards. She bows her head in respect as she continues. “We have heard plans that Malik plans to attack the throne in the upcoming weeks once he’s gathered enough forces. The sirens have already betrayed us, pledging their allegiance with the crown traitors.”

“What of the gorgons?” Wooyoung raises a brow, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“We are still waiting upon their response, My King,” Jax replies, eyes briefly darting up to meet Wooyoung’s own.

“Any word on Dimitri’s movements, yet?” San asks the room, noticing how some of the demons shift in discomfort at the mention of the warlock’s name.

“One source states they saw him and his hunters around the coast of The Forbidden Lake,” Vera states.

“That would make sense, given the siren’s betrayal,” Yeosang mumbles, furrow to his brow.

“Another has sworn they saw both him and Miyeon gathering their forces outside of The Crystalline Caves two days ago.” Jax adds, and immediately, all eight Kings stiffen.

“And no one thought to inform us of this potential sighting?” Seonghwa states, quite pointedly.

“Our deepest apologies, Your Majesties,” Jax bows deeper, along with Vera. “We only learned of such a sighting today.”

“Tighten up your watches, then,” San retorts, brow furrowing even further. “There is no room for error, or misinformation when the safety of Your Queen is at risk.”

A murmur washes over the crowd, and all eight of them straighten as their eyes flash.

“Silence.” Hongjoong’s voice booms out across the room. “What is the meaning of such whispers?”

Otis takes a step forward. “You’ll have to forgive us, Your Majesties. Some of us cannot help but question the validity of such a human, given that we have never seen sight, nor heard no sound from her before.”

All eight of them seem to grow in their spots, forms towering over the gathered council as the lights begin to flicker around the room.

“Are you questioning our integrity?” Jongho’s voice rattles the entire room, the deadliest of snarls escaping each of their throats.

“No, My King,” Otis is quick to shake his head, “Never.”

“It would serve you all well to remember just who is standing before you at this very moment.” Seonghwa’s voice is low, ominous, as his stare pierces each soul standing around the room.

“We have stood as your Kings upon these thrones for millennia,” Yeosang spits, eyes wild as he tilts his chin the slightest bit upwards, staring down his nose at all of the demons before him. “Never once has our kingdom been in such a disarray, and all because of your daughter.”

“A rebel uprising has breached the horizon,” Wooyoung’s eyes narrow as he begins to list off everything that has occurred in the past few months alone.

“Dimitri has come out of hiding,” Mingi adds, gaze firm as he stares down upon the man before them all.

“The dragon’s nest, one of our oldest and closest of allies, has been attacked,” Jongho spits, quite harshly.

“The siren’s have betrayed us,” Yunho’s voice rumbles out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And a war is coming.” San finishes, fists clenched at his sides.

“Remind us again of just who we should be questioning, Otis.” Hongjoong’s voice is dangerous, eyes flashing black as his soul begins to call for blood. “Your daughter is set to destroy us all, and you’re not even concerned in the slightest.”

“My King, that’s not true-“

“Then where is she? What are you hiding from us?” Yunho rounds on the male, eyes blazing as he stares Otis down. “Your incessant need to protect her has already caused tremendous losses to this kingdom. She will not hesitate to betray you in the slightest when it comes down to it, so why do you insist on keeping her hidden?”

“I am not-“

“Don’t lie to me!” Yunho commands, voice loud enough to rattle the very walls of the chamber they all reside in as he stands to his full height. “I have seen your mind, Otis, you cannot hide from the truth.”

The male’s eyes go wide, breath hitching in his throat as he feels Mina step back from him in shock.

“Father, tell me it isn’t so!” She gasps, staring on at him in horror. “Tell me you have not been aiding that blood traitor!”

He turns to look at her, eyes pleading for her to understand. There’s no point in him trying to hide it now, the Kings all now know the truth. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you girls.”

“You lie.” Mina recoils from his touch as he goes to reach for her.

“I thought I raised you better than that,” he tuts, shaking his head, his demeanour changing instantly. “Family is more important than anything. You know this!”

“Not when the lives of everyone we know are at risk!” Mina retorts, continuously backing away from her father. “How could you not see how selfish you’re being?”

“Do not speak to me about selfishness, daughter,” Otis spits, turning back to face the eight Kings standing before the entire room. “The Leaders you are so willing to defend over your own flesh and blood know firsthand how selfish one can be.”

Wooyoung nearly lunges for the man right then and there, but his Captain beats him to it. Gripping Otis by his throat, Hongjoong raises the man into the air, perfectly mirroring the exact same position he was in with Miyeon all those weeks ago.

“Watch your fucking tongue before I carve it from your throat.” He hisses, fingers squeezing that much firmer into Otis’ neck.

Immediately, the male begins to claw at the hand around his throat, legs dangling loosely in the air before the entire council as Hongjoong’s eyes flash.

“My daughter was right,” Otis manages to hiss out, eyes glaring intensely at the eight males before him. “Since when to Kings submit to dirt?”

Mina gasps once more, “father!”

“You should have joined us sooner, Mina,” his eyes briefly glance in his daughter’s direction. “It’s time for a New World to reign supreme.”

Blood begins dripping onto Hongjoong’s hand from how tightly he’s squeezing Otis’ throat, fingers digging harshly into his flesh as he bares his teeth in a snarl.

Otis drops his one hand back to his side, something glinting in the light.

“Long live the Queen.” 

In a flash, Otis attempts to stab Hongjoong with a blade. Except, he doesn’t get very far, the dagger clattering to the ground as Hongjoong tears the male’s throat out in the next second.

A deadly silence fills the room as every demon watches on with wide eyes. Mina stands with her hands covering her mouth, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Anyone else like to make a statement?” Wooyoung challenges as eight sets of eyes flash black at the surrounding council members.

The stillness is so consuming within that room that none dare breathe for fear of incurring the wrath of their Kings. A moment passes. Then another, and another. Each King silently daring anyone to attempt such stupidity as Otis just has before their very souls.

When no one moves, Hongjoong is finally speaking once more.

“Leave us.” His voice commands, gaze piercing as he scans the room.

Instantly, every single demon that was in the room disappears. All except for Mina, who is currently trapped within Jongho’s grip as he drags her in front of all of them.

“Please, My Kings, I had no idea that my father would do something like this,” she begs, tears still streaming down her eyes as she watches Hongjoong toss Otis’ lifeless body aside like it’s nothing.

“Has your sister attempted to contact you recently?” San asks, tone firm and leaving no room for argument.

“Yes.” Her reply is instant. “But I swear to you, I never believed in a word she said. I don’t like who she’s become. I’ve never liked how twisted she could be. Search my mind if you have to. I swear that I never followed her. I never once have, and I never will.”

“What did she want?” Yeosang narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares her down.

“She begged me to join her cause, pleaded for me to feed you false information every council meeting,” she explains, fearful gaze darting from one male to the next. “She wanted me to follow her, revelling her as my true Queen once she claimed her King.”

“Claimed her King?” Mingi quirks a brow, and they all notice how her eyes flash briefly over to Yeosang.

“What is she planning?” Seonghwa takes a step forward, watching as she trembles within Jongho’s hold as he does so.

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Do not lie to us.” Wooyoung’s eyes flash wildly as he takes his own threatening step towards her.

“Please, I don’t know!” She cries. “Search my mind. It will tell you all I know, I swear!”

Seven sets of eyes turn to look at Yunho who has been doing just that this whole time.

“Your sister and you talked the other day.” He begins.

“That is correct.” She confirms, a shaky nod to her head.

“She propositioned you to join her,” he continues.

“She did.” Mina confirms again.

“She told you about being aligned with Malik and Dimitri.” Yunho states, yet again.

“She told me that she has many uses for them.” She replies.

“What uses?” Jongho presses, hissing lowly in her ear.

“Ones that will guarantee her victory, even after death.” Mina says, eyes suddenly glazed over as she blinks, staring blankly before her.

“Which are?” Mingi pushes, frown pulling at his features.

“Ways in which solidify her chances of a New World.” Again, she blinks, somewhat dazedly.

A moment of silence passes over them, and they all notice how Mina has gone slightly limp in Jongho’s hold.

It’s no use, she’s been charmed. Yunho informs them.

Charmed? Slight worry is clear on San’s features as he turns to look at his brother.

As far as Mina believes, she is telling the truth, Yunho sighs. There are portions of her memory purposefully left blank, meaning someone has tampered with them. Normally, I’d be able to unweave the tangled mess that is her thoughts, but each time I get close, I begin to get burned. Someone has enchanted her memories, and my best guess is it was Dimitri.

How do we undo the spell? Wooyoung spares a glance at Yunho out of the corner of his eyes.

We can’t, unless we can find an equally as powerful warlock to undo the enchantment. If I try any harder, I’ll kill her, and then we’ll never know what Miyeon has planned. Yunho explains, a hint of frustration to his words.

For fuck’s sake, Seonghwa curses, along with his brothers who verbalize their discontent for the moment. This day just keeps getting better and better.

I’ve gotten everything I need to know from her for the moment, so there’s no point in holding her hostage any longer. Yunho nods once at Jongho, who immediate releases his hold on Mina. She stumbles slightly before righting herself, her eyes immediately shining with worry as that vacant expression falls from her features. She’s not a threat to us right now.

How can you be so sure? Mingi turns to face his brother, concern shining in his own eyes.

If she was, Miyeon wouldn’t have gotten Dimitri to seal off her memories. I have a feeling that Miyeon knows that Mina would have come running to tell us everything she knew as soon as she could, given how her memories have been locked off. Yunho tells them, seeing his brothers nodding along to his words.

“Alright,” Hongjoong sighs, eyes briefly flashing towards Mina as she stands there with her head bowed for the moment. “If you remember anything else, or if Miyeon attempts to contact you again, you immediately send word to us. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Mina nods her understanding, slowly moving over to her father’s corpse and hoisting it upon her shoulder.

“My Kings, I may not know much, but I do know my sister,” she turns to face them one final time. “Whatever she has planned, she will act soon, and she will strike hard. Please, be careful, and protect Your True Queen.”

A nod is all she receives from Hongjoong in response. Faintly, their lips all twitch upwards as they transport themselves back to their domain for the time being.

As soon as they appear in the foyer, they see you trudging across the room slowly with a glass of water in your hand. Your slipper clad feet drag across the floor as you turn your head to lazily glance towards them out of the corner of your tired eyes.

Immediately, you straighten, eyes zeroing in on the blood splattered on Hongjoong’s white jacket. Your throbbing headache seemingly slips your mind for the moment as concern begins to consume you..

You raise a worried finger as you scurry closer. “Why is there blood only on you?”

You practically shove the other seven out of the way to begin inspecting Hongjoong’s torso, noticing a slight tear in the fabric where something sharp must have cut him. Luckily, it doesn’t seem as if any of it is his blood.

“I’m fine, My Love,” he chuckles, absolutely revelling in the way you glance up at him with nothing but worry in your eyes as you continue inspecting his torso.

“Good.” You sigh in relief as you straighten, sparing a glance around at all of them. ”Are you all okay?”

The feeling of someone wrapping themselves around you from behind causes you to nearly stumble forward. A chin rests on your shoulder.

“We’re all fine, Baby,” San grins, nuzzling his head against yours affectionately as he squeezes his arms around your waist. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

San can feel the way you physically relax in his arms, loving the way one of your own comes to rest overtop of his in the next second.

“Thank fuck,” you breathe out another sigh in relief. Then, your eyes are drooping once more as your head begins to throb, reminding you of the pounding headache you haven’t been able to break lately. A headache which only seems to be getting worse by the second. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

Slowly, you manage to pull yourself out San’s grip, beginning to trudge back down the hallway and to your room. You can feel all eight of their gazes on you, not even registering in your mind how they look on in concern.

“Dearest, are you alright?” Yeosang takes a step towards you, prepared to follow after you in a heartbeat as worry consumes them all. Never have any of them seen you like this before.

You can only manage a faint hum in response, muttering something about just being ‘tired’.

They all spare a glance between one another.

“Has your headache gotten worse?” Yunho’s brow tugs downwards in a frown as he begins to follow after you.

You falter slightly in your step, turning your head to nod at him from over your shoulder. Your eyes barely remain open, grip deadly around the glass of water in your hand. Your whole body begins to tremble.

Instantly, Yunho and Hongjoong are both at your side as the others rush over to you. Yunho once more brings his hand up to rest it over your forehead, doing whatever he can to ease the pain for the moment. It helps, if only briefly, for as soon as he removes his hand, your head throbs even worse than before.

A hiss escapes you as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Again, Yunho places his hand onto your forehead, and the relief you feel is instantaneous. Yet, every time he pulls his hand away, that ache returns, even stronger than before.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters lowly, nothing but concern etched onto his features as they all continue to surround you.

“It’s not-“ your voice comes out much weaker than before as your eyes remain shut, as if the light is too much for you to handle right now. You swallow, “not the first time… migraine.”

Your entire body begins to sway, and it takes no time at all for San to be grabbing the glass of water from your hand as Yunho scoops you into his arms. All of them begin to walk the short distance to your room, hearts racing as fear floods their veins. It should have taken Yunho no time at all to heal your headache, but the fact that it keeps returning as soon as his hand is removed from your forehead means that there’s something very wrong.

Laying you gently beneath the covers, Yunho sits on the edge of your bed. Again, his hand is once more placed on top of your head, easing the pain as much as he can for the moment as he attempts to figure out what exactly is going on. Your mind appears to be fine, nothing out of the ordinary as your void ripples with every small incursion they give it. Only, that mist they provided for you seems to be the thinnest its ever been.

Your whole body jolts as you feel something cool being pressed to your forehead in the next second. Cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, you see Hongjoong leaning over you on the opposite side. Worry tugs at his features as he holds a damp cloth to your head, feeling for himself how your mind seems to physically struggle against the pain for the moment, even as he aids Yunho in his attempts to heal you.

A whimper escapes your lips as your feel that little point of pain you’ve always felt whenever you get headaches recently begin to pulsate. The spot seems to radiate inwards, as if someone is hammering an ice pick into the back of your skull. With each pulse, the pain goes deeper, and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut as you cling onto your blankets for dear life.

“Yunho-“

“I’m trying.” His blunt reply ends up cutting off Yeosang’s worried tone, each male surrounding you instantly.

You vaguely register the feeling of more hands gently placing themselves in multiple places on your body. Your head begins to feel as if someone is severely compressing the sides of your skull in hopes to pop your brain out of the top. Of all the migraines you’ve ever had, you’ve never had one this intense before.

A single tear begins to trail down your cheek from the pain as your eyes remain closed. Even the darkness of your room isn’t helping the ache behind your eyes for the moment, nor is the damp cloth Hongjoong keeps pressed to your forehead. You have no idea what they’re doing, but whether or not they’re trying to take your pain away now is unbeknownst to you. Even if they are, you don’t think it’s making the slightest difference, anyways.

Yunho begins to pant, eyelids long having fallen shut as he focusses all his energy into finding whatever is wrong with this migraine of yours. Normally, it should have been healed at the first touch of his hand to your head. Given the fact that all of his brothers are aiding him with the healing, you shouldn’t be feeling any pain. The fact that your symptoms only seem to be getting worse means that this is no ordinary headache.

The only problem is, he can’t seem to find anything that’s wrong. Nothing that he can see within your mind should be causing you such intense pain. Even when he feels his brothers probing your mind, he can tell that they don’t find anything, either. The only thing he can think of that might make it better at this point is if he gave you some of his blood.

Then, as if the entire world goes quiet, the pain stops.

Instantly, your entire body is relaxing, a subconscious sigh of relief being exhaled through your nose. The way your void ripples within your mind seems to ease the pressure even more, the flow of the water ebbing away the lingering pain.

Funny. It feels as if someone has dropped a stone into your void, causing the ripples to form as you feel it begin to sink into the vast expanses of your mind.

Finally, you’re able to catch your breath as you fall into unconsciousness almost immediately afterwards.

A moment of silence passes over all of them as some of the tension eases from their shoulders.

“What the fuck just happened?” Wooyoung looks between all of his brothers, panic clear on his features.

“I don’t-“ Yunho blinks, his heart pounding in his chest as he cups the side of your face in his one hand, “I don’t know.”

They all share a look between one another. Never before has something like this occurred. Always, they’ve been able to heal or cure any ailment instantly, especially of the inner mind or body. So, to not be able to help you in the slightest, and seeing you suffering and in pain, consumed them with a fear unlike anything they’ve ever felt before. The fact that none of them could pinpoint what was wrong scared them like you would not believe.

Yeosang’s whole body begins to shake, his breathing uneven and heavy.

“This has Miyeon written all over it.” His voice trembles as he can barely get out the words as anger consumes him.

“It should be impossible,” Yunho shifts his attention from his brothers back to you, fingers pressing a little firmer into the side of your face as he stares down at you with nothing but worry shining in his eyes.

“It should,” Hongjoong agrees, shifting slightly so that he’s sitting beside you on the bed instead of kneeling on top of the mattress for the time being. “Doesn’t mean that it is.”

“How could she get passed our defences?” Jongho’s brow furrows, beginning to pace at the end of your bed to dissipate some of the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“Hang on, we don’t even know if it is her,” San attempts to reason, but at this point, he doesn’t know if he’s saying this more to reassure himself or his brothers.

“It could have just been something else,” Mingi suggests.

“Poison?” Seonghwa glances at Wooyoung.

“I don’t think so,” the younger male shakes his head. “I didn’t smell anything, and I doubt she could have gotten her hands on something strong enough to do that to her. Especially not in this house. The only way to be one thousand percent sure is for me to taste her blood.”

“She’s not awake to consent to that,” Yeosang states, doing whatever he can to keep his arms from trembling again for the time being.

“I doubt it’s poison,” Hongjoong shakes his head. “Either way, Yunho and I will stay with her, and make sure nothing happens like this again. We’ll call for you if anything happens.”

“Hongjoong-“ Seonghwa begins, only to be cut off by his Captain.

“Look,” Hongjoong sighs, “we’ve all had a long night, and a lot has happened. Crowding her is probably the last thing that’ll be good for her right now. We’ll watch over her, and make sure she’s alright.”

“If anything happens-“

“You’ll all be the first to know,” Hongjoong cuts San off, a tight smile pulling at his lips.

A long sigh escapes the eldest’s mouth before he’s nodding his head in understanding. “Come on, let’s let her rest.”

Each male finds it extremely difficult to tear themselves away from you for the time being. Wooyoung, San, Mingi, and Jongho all end up having to be ushered out by both Seonghwa and Yeosang, even if the two of them are reluctant to leave you alone. At least they all know that you’re in good hands.

Morning comes with the faintest of light trickling in through your windows. The curtains sway as the gentlest of breezes drifts through the room. The only sounds that can be heard are the steady breaths of all three of you as each male curls into either side of you.

Slowly, consciousness returns to your form. You can feel someone’s arm resting across your stomach, while another is draped over the top of your chest, just below your neck. Your head seems to be cradled in someone’s embrace, their fingers gently rubbing at the side of your temple and helping you to relax. In the next moment, your eyes blink open.

The sight that greets you as you turn your head doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. The last thing you remember before passing out last night was all eight of them surrounding you in bed, Yunho holding onto you while sitting on your right, while Hongjoong was on your left, pressing a damp cloth onto your head. So, when you see Yunho being the one cradling your head in his arm, and Hongjoong being the one draped over your left side, you realize that they must have stayed with you after everything that happened last night. At least it looks like they changed their clothes.

“Petal,” it’s Yunho who notices that you’re awake first, and you can hear the concern clear in his tone as he looks at you. “How are you feeling?”

You shift only the slightest, bringing your hands up to rub at your eyes for the time being. As soon as your vision clears, you notice the both of them staring at you in worry.

Blinking once more, your brow furrows slightly. “Honestly, I feel fine. Whatever you did last night worked. I don’t have a headache anymore.”

The instant way they both breathe a sigh of relief has your lips quirking up the slightest bit in the corners.

“You really scared us last night,” Hongjoong says, bringing a hand up to trace the side of your face gently.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a migraine like that before,” you reply, sitting up in bed and noticing how they both mirror the movement.

“We’re just glad you’re okay.” Hongjoong breathes.

“Does your head feel any different?” Yunho asks gently. “Your mind?”

You take a moment to think, visualizing that all too familiar void and noting nothing out of place or out of the ordinary.

“No,” you shake your head. “Like I said, I feel fine now.”

Little do you notice the way tiny bubbles seem to float to the surface beneath your void, right where that stone you felt sinking into the depth of your mind fell.

“Good,” Hongjoong nods, his hand finding purchase on the small of your back.

“The moment you feel another headache coming on, you let one of us know,” Yunho tells you, his own hand settling onto your upper back, right between your shoulder blades.

“I will,” you nod. “I promise.”

Both males seemingly nod in agreement.

Just then, you see your door slowly open, Wooyoung, Jongho, and San all peeking their heads in. Almost immediately when they see you sitting up in bed, they’re all rushing into your room.

“You’re up!” Wooyoung practically jumps onto the bed, nearly tackling you in his embrace as you fall back onto your pillows with a small ‘oof’ escaping your lips. “We were so worried.”

You manage to raise your one arm to pat him on his back slightly before both Yunho and Hongjoong are tearing the younger male off of your form.

“Fucking hell, Wooyoung, don’t just bulldoze her the first thing in the morning.” Yunho scolds him as the others appear in your room.

You chuckle as you notice him pout while now kneeling at the end of your bed, “I’m okay, now.”

“Are you feeling better, Dearest?” Yeosang steps closer, eyes flitting all over your face as you sit back up in bed.

“Much,” you nod, a soft smile gracing your features. “Thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“Of course, My Love,” Hongjoong’s hand is once more on the small of your back, gently caressing you all the while.

“How did the council go?” You ask, and you notice them all stiffen the slightest bit around your room.

“We learned quite a bit of information,” Mingi informs you, quick to explain every new detail that came to light last night.

“I see.” You blink, swallowing thickly as you turn to look at Hongjoong beside you. “So, that’s why you came back covered in blood? Because someone tried to kill you?”

“Fear not, My Love,” he smiles softly at you, hand coming up to caress the side of your face as he sees the worry shining within your eyes. “You will find that I am not that easy to kill. None of us are.”

Subconsciously, you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief.

“It’s not the first time someone has tried to murder us at a council, and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” Jongho chuckles, clearly amused at the situation.

“So, it’s a common occurrence?” Your brow furrows.

“More often than not, but less often than you would think.” San hums.

Again, you blink, nodding slightly along to his words.

A moment later and a little black blur darts into the room, jumping onto your bed in the next second and crawling right into your lap.

“Oh, well, hello Sir,” you chuckle, immediately raising a hand to pet Kuroo. “Glad to see I’m the number one concern on your list of priorities this morning.”

Both Seonghwa and Wooyoung burst out laughing as they watch Kuroo turn to look at you with wide eyes from over his shoulder. He mewls in the next second, only causing their laughter to deepen.

“I’m dying of a headache, and you would rather nap,” you shake your head, only for him to mewl once more. “No, no, I see where I stand, you monkey.”

A wail of a mewl greets your ears as he turns to look at Seonghwa for help.

“You’re on your own, kid,” he chuckles, only for Kuroo to turn and look at Wooyoung in the next second.

“I don’t care if you were dreaming about chasing Stella around,” Wooyoung replies, amused disbelief painting his features.

Kuroo whines once more.

“Oh, come here, you little stinker,” you chuckle, pulling Kuroo into your arms. “Look at that little face. How can I stay mad at you?”

You pull him up for a kiss, burying your face in his belly as you stretch his upper body above your head. You get two kisses in when you feel him latch onto your head, attempting to bite the top.

“Ah, abort mission! Abort mission!” You’re quick to pull him away, noticing how he stares at you with wide eyes. “You little monkey!”

Chuckles resonate around the room as you place Kuroo fully back onto the bed. Only, in the next moment, he decides to jump on top of your foot buried beneath the blankets, biting at your toes.

“He’s trying to eat my toes,” you pout, mouth parting in mock surprise as you watch him pounce on your foot from over the blankets once more.

“To be fair, he thinks it’s a snake,” Wooyoung laughs, seeing Kuroo shaking his head back and forth with your comforter caught between his teeth.

“Oh, to be a kitten who thinks a foot beneath a blanket is a snake,” you sigh, almost wistfully. Then, the corner of your lips quirks upwards teasingly. “I don’t know, guys. I think he may just be more ferocious than all of you combined.”

“How can we ever live up to the standard of your ferocious little guardian now?” Mingi joins in on the teasing, leaning against one of the pillars in your room.

“Oh, geez,” you shake your head, keeping your voice playful as you respond, “I don’t know.”

At the way Kuroo sits directly over your shin now, practically loafing on your leg, you laugh.

“You’ve done it, you’ve killed the snake,” the way his tail swishes happily at your praise has you all laughing once more. “Or have you?”

In an instant, you start wiggling your foot beneath the covers, shifting your leg slightly as a large grin takes over your features. In no time, Kuroo has sprung back into action, pouncing on top of your foot and trying his absolute best to sink his fangs into your toes. You’re just glad the blankets are so thick.

A few more minutes pass by like this, all eight of them watching on with fond smiles on their faces as you play with Kuroo. That is, until you’re collapsing back into your pillows, a huff escaping you.

“Okay, Doritos, I really need my foot back, now,” you spare a glance back at Kuroo who looks up at you with wide eyes. “Well, unless you want to find out what being submerged in water feels like, I’m going to need my foot.”

You can just tell he’s pouting from the way he’s looking at you, his little mouth parting the slightest bit. You share a chuckle with the eight of them once again as Wooyoung moves to grab Kuroo from your bed.

Ten minutes later, and after kicking the eight other males out of your room, you find yourself sinking into the warmth of you tub. A small sigh escapes your lips, allowing the soothing scents of lilac and honey to flood your every sense. 

The more time you spend soaking in the tub, the more you can feel your body beginning to relax fully. Despite everything they told you that happened at their council meeting last night, it just means that you’re one day closer to finally being rid of Miyeon. The sooner she acts, the sooner you can all put this stupid incident behind you. Besides, you really want to go visit your family soon. Maybe even formally introduce the eight of them to your parents and your sister. Perhaps, even as you significant others.

A snort of laughter leaves your lips. You wonder how well that conversation will go down. 

Yeah, you can just picture it now. ‘Hi, mom and dad. These are my eight significant others I’ve been living with for a few months now, even since I quit my job and went on that spontaneous road trip. Crystal was right, but instead of only one mystery lover, I have eight!’

Definitely won’t raise any questions at all.

Another chuckle escapes your lips as you shift slightly in the tub. Your parents may be supportive of you and your life choices, but you honestly have no idea how they may react to that. Oh well, all in due time, you suppose.

A little while later, you pull yourself out of the tub. Taking your time, you get ready for the day, pulling on one of your hoodies overtop of you shirt as you slide your slippers back onto your feet. Smiling to yourself in the reflection of the mirror, you decide that you’re going to make the most out of your day. By that, you mean picking out a fresh book to read and spending some time in the library.

As soon as you open the door to your room and step out into the hallway, you notice Kuroo trot right up alongside you. A fact which makes you smile as you tease him about keeping you company now after the events of last night. At the way he mewls back at you, you know you’re right.

Stopping by the kitchen on your way to the library, you’re quick to grab a bite to eat, curtesy of San who insists on cooking you something to start your day. Of course, he wouldn’t let you do it, sitting you down on one of the stools as he grabbed the ingredients from the fridge right afterwards.

Half an hour later, and after San refused your help with cleaning up, you finally find yourself in the library for the day. Pulling a book off your one shelf, you happily settle yourself into your spot and begin to read.

Jongho joins you at some point, and you find yourself shifting in your seat so you can rest against his side as the both of you read. It takes no time for his one arm to be wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him as you both bask in each other’s company like this for hours. A fact which you have always appreciated about him.

Sometime later, you decide to take a small break from reading. You can tell that your eyes are getting a little tired from staring at the font of this book for so long, given that it’s quite smaller than usual. You should probably take a break and stretch your legs out, anyways.

Standing from the couch, you notice Jongho’s eyes following your every move. He blinks up at you as you turn back to face him, the tips of his ears turning bright red as you lean in to place a tender kiss onto his cheek.

“I’ll be back soon,” you smile, stepping away from him as you tug your sweater off of your body. You were beginning to get a bit hot, anyways.

Straightening out your back, you begin to slowly make your way out of the library. You walk passed Seonghwa’s tailor shop, noticing him seemingly working on something through the glass window on the door. A fact which makes you smile fondly as you continue on your merry way.

Reaching the foyer, you notice San coming from the opposite hallway. His hands seem to be cradling his elbows before shifting to rub at his upper arms.

Your brow furrows as you meet his gaze. “Are you cold?”

He pauses right in front of you, nodding his head slowly as he seemingly avoids your gaze somewhat shyly. In the back of your mind, you vaguely recall Jongho’s words to you while you were visiting the dragon’s nest. You blink.

Wordlessly, you offer him your sweater.

The way he gazes at you, with wide eyes full of awe, sets your heart racing in your chest. You smile.

“Baby,” his eyes shine, gently reaching out to take your sweater into his hands.

“Don’t tear the arms off of this one,” you tease, the corner of your lips tugging upwards.

“I won’t,” his response is immediate as he pulls your hoodie over his head, basking in the way your scent absolutely surrounds him for the moment. “I promise.”

You smile at him once more: a soft pull of your lips upwards as you look at him with such tender affection in your gaze. A look San has only ever dreamed of being on the receiving end from you. However, before either of you can say anything else, the loud caw of a raven draws your attention.

Immediately, the other seven of them are appearing in the foyer as Stella lands on the desk at the front. Again, she caws loudly, and you watch as all of their eyes darken.

At the way you look between all of them as Kuroo comes trotting into the room, you just know that something’s going on. Something big.

“Miyeon’s finally decided to make a move,” Yunho is the one to inform you, meeting your gaze instantly.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can, My Love,” Hongjoong, being one of the closest to you for the moment, leans in to place a kiss onto your cheek.

“For the love of everything holy and unholy,” your eyes dart over all of them, “be safe.”

“We will, Baby. Don’t you worry.” San smiles at you, reaching out to cup your opposite cheek in his one hand briefly.

“By the time we’re done with Miyeon, there will be nothing left,” Yeosang’s gaze is the darkest you’ve ever seen it, mirrored only by the way their eyes all flash black in the next moment, snarls of agreement filling the air.

As soon as Stella hops onto Hongjoong’s shoulder, all of them disappear from your sight.

In the next moment, a sigh escapes your lips as your heart begins to pound inside your chest. Worry consumes your every step as you continue on down the hallway and towards your room for the moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Kuroo following you every step of the way.

A shiver caresses your spine and goosebumps begin to raise on your arms as you hear a small thud come from behind you.

Immediately, you freeze in your track, blinking a few times as a nervous grin pulls at your lips. Your head begins to throb.

“What’d you forget?” You tease, hoping beyond anything that it’s Mingi once more appearing back home like he did last night.

Only, the sight that greets you when you turn around nearly has a scream tearing from your throat. There, standing in the archway to the foyer, rests Miyeon, a sinister grin pulling at her features as she meets your gaze.

“Miss me?”

[cevansbrat0007]

The Curious Case of the Chicken McNuggets

Summary: You sneak out one night to satisfy a late night craving, with every intent to make it back before your overly tired husband wakes up. Also, check out Andy’s P.O.V. 

*Warnings: Implied Smut, Manhandling, Pregnant!Reader, Brat!Reader, Angry Andy, Light Spanking, Overstimulation (mentioned), Chicken Nuggets, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

---

You stare at the ceiling trying to talk yourself out of what you knew was pretty much inevitable. For a moment, you thought about waking your sleeping husband and asking him to go for you, but it was late. Just after midnight. And he’d been working such long hours lately that, truthfully, you just didn’t have the heart. 

But you desperately wanted chicken nuggets. Specifically a twenty-piece McNugget from McDonald’s. With honey mustard. All of the honey mustard. And some fries. 

You look over at Andy as your mental debate wages on. There was a 24-hour McDonald’s just down the street. And you were pretty sure that you could make it there and back without your husband ever noticing. That way he could sleep and you could eat. 

Decision made, you slip out of bed. Out of habit, your hand goes to rub your baby bump. At six months along, your belly was pretty darn big. But you loved it. You weren’t waddling or anything like that yet, but you knew those days were coming sooner rather than later. 

“Mmm.” You hear Andy stir. “Where you going, baby?” The sound of his raspy voice makes you smile.

“Bathroom, honey. And then to get some water. I’ll be right back. Go on back to sleep.” The first part isn’t a lie. You were going to the bathroom. Mostly because your baby girl loved sitting on your bladder like it was her own personal lawn chair. 

“Okay, see you in a min…” His deep voice trails off as he dozes off again. Good.

You take your time going to the bathroom, not that you were super fast these days anyway. By the time you’re done, your Andy Bear is totally fast asleep again. Time for some McNuggets.

Snagging your phone from the nightstand, you sneak downstairs to grab your keys and purse. And then you’re out the door. Those crispy, golden chicken chunks were almost within reach. Jumping in the car, you raise the garage door, put it in drive, and set out on your journey. There was no time to waste, damn it!

Ten minutes later, you make it your destination. You do a little dance in your car as you pull up to the drive-thru speaker. “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?”

“Hi, yes! Can I please get a twenty piece Chicken McNugget? And can you be sure they’re fresh? Sorry to be a pain, but I’m kinda super pregnant….and I need this.” You wince a little, knowing you sounded needy. But your meal needed to be fresh for maximum enjoyment.

“Sure thing, ma’am. No problem. We’ll drop them fresh for you. Would you like to make it a meal?”

Ah, thank the Lord on high.

“Yes, please. With a Sprite. Thank you so much!” 

“And your sauce?”

“Honey mustard. I’m going to need at least four, please. It’s a thing.”

She gives you your total and then you pay. And then they have you park in a loading zone or something to wait while they cook your food. Fuck, you were so damned happy!

While it takes a little longer than you would have liked, eventually you have your food. You delicately place it in your passenger seat. You even briefly debate draping the seatbelt over it. No. That would be too much.

You race home. Becoming super excited the moment you pull back into the garage and kill the engine. Grabbing your bag of goodies and your drink, you exit your vehicle as fast as you can and head into the house. Jiminy Crickets, this had been a fantastic decision!

Food in hand, you head towards the kitchen, only to see that all of the lights are on. Wait. You hadn’t done that. You set your bag on the kitchen table as you try to muddle your way through your confusion. 

And then in strolls a shirtless, very pissed off Andy. 

“Um, hi honey!” You squeak. Just that fast you regret not getting him anything. “What are you doing up?”

“I don’t know.” He growls, his muscles flexing. “What were you doing out?”

Feeling mildly brave, mostly because your pregnancy cravings didn’t understand the concept of fear, you fish out your box of nuggets and pop one in your mouth. “I…I got hungry.”

Andy leans his big body against the counter, his hands going into his pockets of his maroon sleep pants. “See, I know I was half asleep at the time, but my hearing is pretty damn excellent. Did you or did you not tell me that you were going to the bathroom and then to grab a glass of water? Isn’t that what you said?”

Ahh crap. Your husband was going into attorney mode. 

“Would you like a nugget? I’ll share. Oh, and they’re fresh! Plus, I have honey mustard.” You try.

No dice. 

His nostrils flare as he glares at you. “Answer my goddamned question, baby.” Clearly he would not be swayed. Which sucked, because all you really wanted to do was eat your food and go back to bed.

 “Yes, that may have been what I said. And, in my defense, I did go to the bathroom. But see, I had been up for a good hour or so craving some McDonald’s and I didn’t want to wake you -”

“So you lie to me and sneak out of the house.” He interrupts. It seems like your man’s Boston accent gets thicker with every word. 

“I wanted to let you sleep.” You mumble as you gaze longingly at a packet of honey mustard. Throwing caution to the wind, you grab it and rip the foil so you can dunk another delicious nugget. “Are you sure you don’t want one, baby? Or some fries, maybe?” 

“Do you realize that I had no idea where you were, Y/N? I searched this whole house for you. And then I saw that your keys and purse were gone. And the whole time, I’m thinking to myself, where the fuck could my wife have gone at this hour?”

“Andy, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I really just wanted you to rest. And I was really hungry. Please don’t be mad.”

“Too goddamned late.” He hisses. When he starts to approach you, you pick up your food and begin to maneuver around the table. Why couldn’t your big man just let you eat in peace?   

“You get hungry at night? Then you wake me up and have me go get it, you stubborn little brat.” He snarls. 

“Hey! I wasn’t being a brat. I was trying to take care of you and myself and -”

“You know how I feel about your safety!” He yells. His booming voice echoes throughout the room. “You want something to eat this late, then you wake me the fuck up, little girl. What you do not do is sneak out of our house after midnight without letting me know where you’re going!”

Andy continues to circle around the table like a panther stalking his prey in his attempt to get to you. You felt like you were being fucking hunted, but it still didn’t stop you from popping another bite of chicken into your mouth. 

“Baby, if you weren’t six months pregnant, I would have you bent over my knee right now.” His voice is rough with emotion. “And I would blister your ass. Swear to God, you would not be able to sit. For a long fucking time.” 

You feel yourself pale at his words. 

“Andy, I said I was sorry. And I am. Next time, I’ll wake you and we’ll ride together. I promise. Please just let this pregnant woman enjoy her chicken nuggets before they get cold.”

You decide to take a risk and let him get close enough to grab you, which he does. And then you shove a nugget into his mouth. He gives you an evil look, but he proceeds to chew and swallow. You repeat the action, this time with fries. And then you hold out your Sprite to him.

“Wash it down?” You whisper. Which he does, his eyes never leaving yours. When he’s finished, you sit your drink onto the table. Your teeth go to nibble your lower lip. 

“I really am sorry, Andy. I won’t do it again.” 

“No, you won’t.” He takes you into his arms. And then he proceeds to deliver a series of very hard swats to your ass. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” You screech with each smack. It’s not like one of your usual spankings. You’re standing, your pants and underwear stay up, and he’s holding you…almost tenderly. 

Cupping your chin with his hand, Andy forces you to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes away a stray tear. “Do not do this again, young lady. Do you hear me?”

You whimper softly.

“I made a promise to you the night you told me you were pregnant, did I not?”

You nod.

“Whatever you want, you get. But what you do not do, not ever, is sneak out of this house in the middle of the night and leave me to wonder about where you are. I’m too young yet to be having heart palpitations. Are we clear?”

You nod again. His grip tightens on your jaw. “I need the words. More specifically, I need to hear a yes, Daddy.”

“Ye-yes, Daddy.” 

Andy smiles then, his hands going to caress your slightly bruised backside. Your husband had given you way worse spankings in the past, so you knew that you had truly gotten off light this time. And only because you were pregnant.

“Finish your food, Y/N, so I can take you back upstairs. And then you’re going to lay back and offer your sweet little body to me by way of apology. You owe me at least four orgasms for your misbehavior, and that is non negotiable. And let me be clear, I don’t care how long it takes, because apparently I need to teach you that no matter how tired I am, you always come first.”

His eyes glaze over as he continues. “You’re going to cum on my mouth, on my fingers, on my cock...baby I’m going to wreck you.”

You clear your throat, unsure of what to say.

“Now eat. You’re going to need your strength, honey.” He leans forward to kiss your nose. “Also, I’m taking the day off tomorrow. So if you don’t give me what I want tonight, I’ll make sure you give it to me tomorrow. And trust me when I say…” 

He grabs your ass again and squeezes.

“If that happens, I plan to add to the tally.”

END

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, blood, y/n feeling guilty

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS

CHAPTER TWENTY • EPILOGUE (3.2k)

"Hello? Is this Y/n? I got your note, aha. Cute. Maybe I'm calling a bit soon since you literally just left the shop, but I hope you get this. There's a festival going on tomorrow night for New Year's, would you be interested? Give me a shout if you are, which I really, really hope so. Talk soon?"

Twenty minutes later, you arrived home and discovered the message waiting for you. Your phone had been off vibrate, too anxious for any notifications, and you didn't think he'd call you so soon. Hand shaking with excitement, you let out a small squeal and right as you do, someone joins you on your sofa, yellow and plush.

"What's gotten into you?" Minho puts a mug of coffee down, coaster centimeters away from the photo of you both that sits in the middle of the table. "Did you finally do it?"

"Yes! And I missed his call-"

"You missed his call?"

"Shut up!" You groan, hiding your face with your hands and curling into yourself on the other side of the sofa. He gently moves your hands and you see the sad smile on his face.

"Call him back," he lets go of your hands. "Before he changes his mind."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the man sitting across from you. "Are you happy?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Are you happy?" You repeat, but he still doesn't answer. "Here, with me? With this new life? Do you ever regret taking that letter seriously?"

"Never," Minho's reply is quick, almost cutting you off. "Y/n, I-" He takes a breath, looking away from you; you wait for him to face you again, wait for him to be ready. "I enjoy being with you, a lot. Too much. You make me comfortable."

"Why do you look so sad then?" You ask, voice soft. "Why do you make this sound like a bad thing?"

Minho looks at you in the eye, looks away, looks back. "Because you make me feel things, good things, and it scares me. It scares me so much, Y/n. The way you feel about Chan, is it scary?"

"Always," you whisper.

"Then you should understand what I'm saying."

"Min," you hold his hand, the other reaching up to cup his face. His eyes are shiny, but he blinks it away. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," he sighs and shrugs. "I'll get over you."

"Hey! Don't make it sound so easy..." He laughs and you feel more at ease watching his shoulders shake and his smile widen.

"Listen, I saw some things in that white room that made me realize a lot of stuff about myself that didn't relate back to you." He leans back on the sofa with a sigh. "I got a bit wrapped up in your disappearance that I kind of ended up disappearing myself, but now? I feel more myself than ever." Neither of you speak for a moment. "So, you gonna call him, or...?"

"Shit, right!" You get up to grab your phone from where it sits charging on a small table in the corner. "Um, I'm just gonna- I'm gonna take this in my room, okay?"

"Go for it," Minho smirks.

.

You nervously agreed to meet at the festival, waiting under the entrance banner for the man who unknowingly saved you, or at least, helped you save yourself. Looking down at your watch, you see he's five minutes late. No worries, it's only five minutes. But five turns into ten, fifteen, and you're about to give up and leave when a hand is waved in front of your face.

"Sorry I'm late," Chan gives you a guilty smile. "This event caused more traffic at the café than we're used to, so it was hard closing on time."

"You're open New Year's?"

"New Year's Eve, yes. New Year's Day, no. We can spend tomorrow lounging around since it'll be a late night-" he catches himself, shutting his mouth tightly for a moment. "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"Just a bit," you chuckle, then slowly add, "But... I like the sound of that."

"Great!" He nearly shouts but clears his throat to calm down, a huge grin painting his face. You see his dimples pop out and can't help but place a hand over his cheek, thumbing the dip softly. A blush creeps up his neck, warming his face in the cold winter air.

Thick snowflakes come down in waves, covering your hair and getting in your eyelashes. You challenge Chan to see who can catch more in their mouth, but it's hard to keep track as they melt with contact. You're so focused on the snowfall that you don't realize how close you are to each other, backs bumping and causing you to fall to the side of the pathway you were on and into a small snowbank. Chan is quick to apologize, stretching a hand out for you to grab, which you do, but instead of standing up with his help you drag him down next to you. Strangers give you looks as he falls down, snow puffing up as his body hits the pile, but you don't care, you're laughing and having fun.

"You're so beautiful," Chan says, voice loud enough for only you to hear and he gives you a soft smile. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Oh, don't do that," you jokingly cringe away, trying to hold back a laugh.

"What? Do what?" He asks seriously, sitting up on an elbow in the snow, watching you avoid his eye contact because if you look at him, you'll lose it. "Y/n! Do what? Express my love for you-"

You both freeze.

"Oh my god." Now he's the one cringing, face covered by his hands but you can still see a sliver of skin turning bright red underneath. "Pretend I didn't say that? It's just- it feels like I've already known you for so long and we've had what, three interactions?"

He looks at you and you finally sit up, feeling the snow soaking through the backs of your pants. Taking his hands in yours, you remove them from his face. Embarrassment is painted across his features, but you just smile at him because little does he know. It hurts a bit to think that he'll never know how he saved you, as cheesy as it sounds. The ways in which he helped you and gave you the courage you needed to acknowledge your past and look back with resilience instead of away in fear, tearing yourself apart without even realizing it.

"What if I said I feel the same way?" You say carefully, and the grip Chan has on your hands tightens. "Like... you've been with me the whole time, through it all."

"I-" In the background, you can hear people starting to chant down to midnight and you both stand up, brushing the snow off yourselves. "Um, I guess we should join them?"

...5

"I like it over here." There's no one around to disturb you.

...4

"It is a little more... private." He grins.

...3

"This is a pretty good way to start the new year if you ask me."

...2

Wrapping your arms around his neck, his own find your waist.

...1!

Fireworks go off as your lips connect and all the comfort and love Chan has ever shown you comes crashing down on you, almost overwhelming. You think of the first time you met, the confusion and eventual acceptance. You think of the night in the storm, the night with Minho and Jeongin-

Jeongin.

Before you can think, you pull away, thoughts plagued by images of the boy dying in your arms playing over and over again. You don't notice the way your breathing picks up or the tightness in your throat and chest until it's too late, eyes stinging and skin tingling.

"Y/n? Did- did I do something wrong?" Chan is looking you over, worry etched in his face.

"Not you- I'm sorry. I can't even explain-" But when you lock eyes, something in him breaks, you can see the dam burst in his eyes.

He gasps, a hand coming up and tangling in his hair as he steps back from you, eyebrows furrowed in what looks like pain. Dark red liquid drips from his nose and you're quick to be by his side again, cradling his face in your hands.

"Chan?" Your panic is becoming overwhelming. "Talk to me."

"I..." His face relaxes and he wipes his nose. "I remember."

"Remember what?"

"Everything."

.

Something about the kiss, the connection, brought his memories back and he hasn't stopped looking at you in awe since you got back to your apartment. You settled in to make sure Chan was alright, and he was, now cuddling on the sofa and trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't think I'll ever fully understand," you sigh.

"Me either," Chan strokes your hair. "And Minho, he's...?"

His voice trails off in uncertainty and you look up at him. "He's okay."

"Good, good." He breathes in, breathes out. "But Jeongin didn't make it?"

"No," you whisper, guilt holding your heart hostage. "No, he didn't."

He's holding you close and wiping the new tears, his own threatening to fall. All that goes through your head is he was just a kid, he didn't deserve that, he was just a kid. A clawing at your window breaks you out of the beginning of the spiral, sitting up with your hands caging Chan in. At your window is an orange blob pawing at the screen. You get up and walk over, opening the window to discover a kitten sitting right outside. Above its right eye is a rough patch of skin, scar tissue erasing the fur, and the tip of its tail is missing. When you pry the screen off, the kitten jumps inside your apartment.

"Hey- wait!" You spin around to see the kitten rubbing against Chan's leg, purring up a storm. "I didn't say you could come in."

You kneel down and stick a hand out. The kitten pauses what it's doing, hesitantly sniffing your outstretched hand before nudging its nose against you. You can't help but smile at the small creature, a sense of familiarity washing over you. This is the same cat you used to feed in the woods, how did it find you here?

"Guess we have a cat now?" Chan leans down and pats its backside.

"We?" You question, glancing up at him.

His face reddens. "You, sorry. I guess you have a cat now. I don't know why I said we-"

"We have a cat now," you sigh happily. "I like the sound of that better." Looking down at the cat, now uninterested in you both and snuggling up under your coffee table, you tilt your head. "Now, what should we name you?"

After a moment of thinking, Chan clears his throat. "I have an idea, but you can say no."

"What is it?"

"Jeongin?" You focus your attention on Chan, whose eyes won't leave the kitten. "Ayen for short. In memory."

Your heart aches at the suggestion and you look back to the cat under the table resting peacefully and your breath catches. Ayen.

"It's perfect."

-

Not a day went by where Chan didn't remind you that you were loved, whether it was a note left behind or a piece of tiramisu in the fridge with your name on it. You tried hard to reciprocate the loving actions, giving him massages after long work days or sending him off with a goodbye kiss. One day you'd broken down when he wasn't home, thinking you'll never be able to show him love like he shows you no matter how desperately you want to. He came home early that day and took you into his arms, holding you until your sobbing quieted.

"What's wrong, baby?" He whispered into your hair, hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Bad day?"

You expressed to him how you felt and he pulled away. The first thing you noticed was the look on his face, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. Ever since then he's made it his mission to let you know he feels just as loved as you, if not more.

Ayen has proved to be quite the troublemaker, and you're sure at this point that the boy's soul lives in the little creature. Minho visited you days after Ayen showed up, feigning anger that you hadn't told him you even planned on getting a cat when he lets you see Soonie, Doongie, and Dori for free. Eventually, he gave up the act and told you all kinds of tips and tricks for taking care of a cat, helping you with your first trip to the vet, and picking out the best cat tree for a little guy like him. Your apartment was starting to look like yours again with all the trinkets you'd started to collect and the cat toys tossed about. Living alone has never felt so good.

Bringing you to present day, sitting on your couch with a movie you've seen a million times on in the background and your laptop keeping your legs warm. Ayen rubs against your calves, ditching you when you absentmindedly reach down to pet him. The document in front of you is almost finished, the ending being the last thing to be done giving you deja vu. For the past few months, you've been working a new passion project, not one of escapism, but of hope and survival. One could almost call your writing obsessive, but you made sure to take breaks and still keep a social life with both Minho and Chan to keep you busy. You don't know what happened to Yeji and Hyunjin, but you hope they're doing well. Part of you is convinced they were created to look after you, and now that you're doing well by yourself, they're off to help another soul. You've befriended Lily through Chan and even started talking to some of Minho's friends again, getting close to Felix and Changbin.

"Still working?" Chan enters the home, slipping his shoes off and dropping his bag to the ground.

You hum in response, not taking your eyes off the document as you type and retype the same line different ways, unable to figure out the end to the boy's journey.

"Stuck on the end," you sigh when he gently takes your laptop away.

"You'll get it when it comes to you," Chan says, content you didn't try to take the device back. "Now, c'mere."

He pulls you into his chest, laying down on the couch and kissing the top of your head. You can't help but giggle, looking up at him with pure adoration on your face.

"Tell me about your day," you say, closing your eyes.

"Not much to say."

"I don't care, I like to hear you talk," you mumble. "Tell me anyway."

Laughing, he starts off with the walk to work, making sure to give every detail no matter how mundane. His voice starts to fade as he gets to lunch and you begin slipping into a state of sleep.

-

The boy sits across from you in what looks like an attic, the bed too small for him. His legs are crossed and he has a smile on his face as you recognize him. It's been a while since you've dreamed of Jeongin, but you suppose he senses you're in a creative rut.

"Long time, no see." Jeongin joins you on the floor. "This is gonna be the last time, actually."

"The last time?" You ask.

"Yeah, I-" he sucks in a breath. "I found them."

"You did?" You nearly shriek, grabbing Jeongin by the shoulders. "Oh my god! Oh my god, what are you still doing here?"

"Stop that!" But he's laughing as he shoves your hands off, eyes turning into crescents at your antics. "I wanted to say goodbye, didn't want to leave you wondering where I went, but you already have a piece of me with you always."

Ayen. "True. I'm really happy for you Jeongin."

"You're so mushy," he complains, but you know he doesn't really mind. "Also, stop stressing about the ending to your story. It'll happen when it happens."

"Shut up," you groan. "You and Chan should have spent more time together, really. Enough about me, when are you leaving?"

"Now, actually." Jeongin stands and helps you up, nodding toward the door. "They're out there. Once I leave, you'll probably wake up since this place won't exist anymore."

Staring at the door, a surge of emotion crashes through you and you throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Think of it this way," he hugs you just as tightly. "I'll be living the life I was meant to and although we won't know each other anymore, I know you'll always be a piece of me too."

"Get out of here before you make me cry." You shove him away lightly, wiping your eyes before the tears can fall.

You watch as his hand slides over the doorknob, holding it for a moment before opening the door. Warm light seeps into the bedroom, hot on your skin; it feels like home. Once your eyes adjust, you can see two people in the distance with their arms beckoning Jeongin over. He smiles wide, taking that first step through with confidence, and suddenly he's not the boy you knew. A smaller boy, you're guessing around eight years old, bounds over to the figures and is wrapped up in their loving arms. With one last look at you, they take one of his hands each and begin to walk away, the door shutting slowly the further they get.

-

You know how to end your story when you wake up.

There's a wet patch on Chan's sweater where your face was and you know you were crying, but he's fast asleep. You're careful when you get off him, taking your laptop with you to your bedroom and opening the document labeled "Open Me! - WIP". You still weren't sure about the title, starting to furiously type before the motivation left you. It's far from perfect, but you feel that's fitting as you save it one last time, preparing to send it out for editing and feedback as you notice the orange rays of a rising sun peaking through your curtains.

"Oh, fuck," you laugh, looking at the time. "At least I'll sleep well tonight."

There's a knock on the door and Chan is walking in, a look of disapproval on his face when he notices your laptop. With a dramatized sigh, he drops down next to you, burying his face into your side as you set it aside.

"Baby, I figured out the ending," you say, barely containing your excitement.

Unlike you, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself back up and making a noise of elation.

"What? That's amazing!" He tugs you into him; another way of showing how much he loves you is never not touching you. "We need to celebrate. What about that place a few streets down you like? We can invite your other friends too and-"

You cut him off with a kiss, his lips melting into yours. When you pull away, he's not even mad at what you did. There's no feeling of anxiety with him.

"How about we stay in?" You suggest. "Just the two of us."

"That's all I need," he agrees, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You. Only you."

●

notes • the end 🥹 thank you to everyone who read, i hope you enjoyed 💙

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny @bloomingstay

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

[muertawrites]

False Pretenses (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: eddie accidentally finds out a secret you've been keeping about your friendship. cuteness ensues.

Read Time: 5 mins

Warnings: the devil's lettuce, idiots to lovers, robin having better game than the guys

Author's Note: everyone is aged up by a few years. this came to me out of nowhere and i thought it was too cute not to write

"What do you mean you don't smoke weed?"

The entire house seems to go still, Robin and Steve staring at you with wide eyes. Eddie stands at the foot of the stairs, holding the case of liquor he went to retrieve from his van, parked in the driveway of Steve's parents' house.

"Hanging out in the basement, just like old times"! Except you forgot about the tiny little secret you've had for years - the entire reason you're in this basement in the first place.

Eddie crosses the room and flops down on the couch in front of you, tossing the hefty box of booze he's holding into Steve's lap (which he receives with a pained "oof"). He crosses his arms, leaning his elbows on his knees, eyeing you like one of the many Hawkins police officers who busted him for possession in his youth.

"You bought from me for five years," he states. "That's how we met."

It is how you met. Your senior year of high school (his second time around), you made your way to the picnic table in the woods just beyond the campus grounds and asked the eccentric metalhead you'd stared at every day for the past three years for a gram of his cheapest weed. He taught you how to grind the buds, to roll a joint, to hide the smell so you didn't get caught; he then took ten dollars of your babysitting money (seeing as it was your first time) and every week for the next year, you met him in that same spot and bought the same strain at the same amount.

When you graduated and went to college a few hours away, it became once a month. When a portal to hell opened up and killed one of his customers, and you were the one aggressive enough to get Hawkins PD to investigate further and stop suspecting him of murder, he started giving you anything you wanted for free.

And even though you never smoked it, just gave it away to friends or crushed it up in the garbage disposal, you still took it because it meant you got to see him. To hang out with him. To laugh with him and listen to his demo tapes and talk about anything at all that came to mind. Of course, your friendship got to the point where you didn't have to conduct business to be able to see him, but the routine was nice. It was only when you both moved to the city and he got a better paying job that you stopped buying from him, because he was no longer selling.

The weekly hangouts still continue, though. They've become too much a part of your lives to stop, especially when you still live so close to one another.

You give him a bashful smile, unable to hide the mortification blazing across your cheeks.

"Well... I sort of had a crush on you in high school," you admit. "And I wanted a reason to introduce myself and get to know you. So... I bought weed from you. Even though I don't like to smoke it."

Eddie stares at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over your features as if he's trying to figure you out for the first time all over again. Then he huffs an exasperated sigh, standing so he can pull his wallet out of his back pocket and rifle through the bills inside. He holds a stack of twenties out to you.

"I'll give you the rest later," he mutters.

You don't take the cash. Instead you look up at him with a furrowed brow.

"Eddie, no, you don't owe me," you tell him.

"Yes I do," he quips. "You spent hundreds of bucks on drugs you didn't use just so we could hang out? Of fucking course I owe you! How the fuck else am I supposed to pay you back?"

"You could take her on a date," Robin suggests.

Your heads snap towards her, shocked. She rolls her eyes.

"Oh come on," she groans. "You're the only two idiots in the world who can't see you've got it bad for each other. Eddie, that groupie at your show last week was practically in your pants by the end of the night, but you didn't take her home because she wasn't the girl you wanted. I was the one who ended up taking her home."

Steve leans over and gives her a little fist bump. You turn back to Eddie.

"... Is that true?" you wonder. "I'm the reason you don't hook up? Don't date?"

Eddie shrugs, his turn to be embarrassed.

"I mean... yeah," he confesses. "I don't really wanna fuck anyone but you."

His eyes bulge, realizing the implications of his words.

"But I also don't wanna date anyone but you!" he quickly clarifies, words spilling out in a rush so that they're crammed together. "You're so pretty and funny and tough and I just... I dunno. You're my best friend. Nobody really compares to you."

If three sets of eyes weren't watching you so intently, you might have let yourself cry. You take a deep breath, reaching up for Eddie's hand; he takes it, lowering himself onto the floor in front of you. His fingers are shaking.

"... Will you be my person?" you ask.

His features break into a smile, that same gorgeous grin you fell so hard for as a freshman in high school. Nobody compares to him, either.

"Sure," he agrees. "... Even though you lured me in under false pretenses."

You smack at his arm and he laughs, reaching out to wrap you in a tight, loving hug. You melt into his touch, burying your face in his shoulder and savoring the feel of his body against yours. Just as it should be.

"Eddie confessed first," Robin says to Steve. "You owe me twenty bucks."

"Nuh-uh, no way," Steve argues. "She told him she had a crush on him in high school and you manipulated him into talking. You owe me twenty bucks."

"Hold on, wait," Eddie interjects, breaking your hug to look at them. "You took a bet on our relationship?"

"We've been doing it since the spring before you graduated," Steve tells him. "We thought for sure you'd finally get laid after you almost died."

Eddie snatches an empty beer can off the nearby coffee table and lobs it at Steve's head, which starts a wrestling match that ends with Eddie straddling him, holding him in a headlock and demanding Steve concede and admit he gets more opportunities for action, despite turning them down.

Yep. Just like old times.

[male-reader-haven]

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••Just a Taste?••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Christmas Week day 3

Yoongi and Y/N are baking cookies for Christmas together for the other members! What could possibly go wrong? ;)

My first Yoongi fic!!! I have another in the works for a bit so expect more of him to come!!!! This one is a bit shorter, but I actually really liked how it turned out!

Tags: dom Min Yoongi x sub male reader, smut

Warnings: 18+, food play, edging

The sound of pots and pans rustling catches your ear, ringing out through the house and causing you to turn in your bed. It's not early in the morning, but it isn't late either, only being 11:20 AM. You decide to investigate and sit up. You don't bother changing out of your silky pajamas (Jin had gifted them to you before and you actually really liked it). You thought it was just you at home today, since the other members had been talking about going Christmas shopping all day, and you weren't that interested, so you volunteered to stay home. If any of them stayed home however, you have a pretty good guess at who it is. Once you make your way to the kitchen, your theory proves correct and you are greeted with the one and only Min Yoongi still in his sleep clothes busy getting together ingredients and bowls.

"Whatcha doin?" You ask, leaning on the counter.

"I didn't feel like going out. It's probably busy." Yoongi replies without looking up. "Thought I would surprise you guys with some cookies. Plus, I didn't want you to be alone..." His voice falls off quieter at the last part. You smile. Yoongi cares for you all so much, but still gets shy about it.

Such a tsundere.

"Awe, you do care!" You laugh and go over to stand next to him. "Can I help?"

Yoongi looks up to your face, an unreadable expression on his face. "I don't need help, but you can if you want to."

"Perfect!" You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands. Yoongi brings over a bowl and a few measured out portions of flour, sugar and other ingredients.

"Here, blend the dry ingredients while I measure the vanilla and stuff."

You blend the ingredients and get together a nice mixture as Yoongi pours in the milk, eggs and vanilla. You start to mix it together, but it quickly gets thick and difficult to mix with one hand. You struggle for a moment before realizing Yoongi is standing watching you, smiling and laughing silently at your pain.

"Ah hyung, don't just laugh!" You pout.

"Okay okay, here." Still grinning Yoongi reaches over and helps adjust your grip on the bowl and spoon, placing his hands over yours. Your heart flutters for a moment, but you brush it off. "We can do it with our combined strength!" Yoongi laughs as he helps you mix the cookie dough, standing behind you with both hands on top of yours. You love hearing him laugh, love seeing him smile. It's not that Yoongi isn't a happy person, it's just that he tends to hide his expressions and feelings around other people, so hearing him laugh so freely like this is...

"Now we have to roll them out and cut them, like this." Yoongi interrupts your thoughts by forming the dough into a blob and setting it on a mat. He then rolls up his sleeves and starts rolling and kneading the dough. You can't help but stare as his beautiful hands as he works, his long fingers so delicate yet strong, doing the work.

"Y/N?"

"Ah, what? Sorry, I must still be tired." You snap out of your daydream. "Now we cut them from the roll, right?" Yoongi nods, and the two of you shape and cut out the cookie shapes from the dough and place them on the baking sheets, then place them in the oven.

"How long do they bake for?" You ask.

"Twenty five minutes, or until they don't look doughy in the center."

"So do we just wait then?"

Yoongi points to more ingredients on the counter. "Perfect amount of time to start making the frostings."

"Damn, cooking sure is a lot of work!" You go over to inspect the food coloring and ingredients.

Yoongi chuffs. "Yeah, that's why you all make Jin and I cook for you." He starts gathering the ingredients, instructing you on measurements, letting you try doing it on your own.

"Oh, geez!" You exclaim as powdered sugar goes everywhere. Yoongi laughs.

"You have to add it slowly or else it goes everywhere like flour." He rustles your hair, releasing a cloud of powdered sugar in the air. "Cute," he says under his breath. You blush.

Eventually you get some decent frosting out of the whole debacle, ending up with separate bowls with different colors for decorating. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, because the timer to the oven goes off and Yoongi pulls the cookies out of the oven.

"Wow, they look perfect!" You exclaim, admiring the golden cookies.

"They did come out pretty great! We just have to wait for them to cool." Yoongi looks satisfied and sets down the oven mitts. He turns to look at you. "Ah, you have some frosting on your face."

"Oh really? Where?" You bring your hand to brush your face. "Did I get it?"

"Not in the slightest." Yoongi smiles, and you swear you catch his face turning pink. "Here, let me get it." He takes his finger and swipes your cheek, then to your surprise he puts his finger in his mouth. "Mmm, You did good." He looks away, as if embarrassed.

You stand there for a moment in shock, then muster up enough courage to respond.

"Actually Yoongi, you have some on your face too." He turns to look at you. You take one of the spoons and smear white frosting on his cheek and mouth.

"Ack, Y/N!" He laughs and retaliates, grabbing another spoon and smudging frosting on you, getting it on your forehead and lips. After a moment of giggling, you look into Yoongi's eyes. His expression is deeper, his smile falling into something more thoughtful and his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. You find that your faces are much closer than they were moments ago. Before you can process what is happening, your lips collide and you kiss Yoongi, a quick kiss at first, but upon separating Yoongi goes back into it, deepening the kiss. You feel your stomach do a backflip and savor the taste of frosting on Yoongi's soft lips, whimpering slightly as he bites your bottom lip. Finally you separate, Yoongi hovering for a moment before licking his lips.

"...tastes good..." You can't tell if he is referring to the frosting or you. Then Yoongi presses your back against the counter and looks you up and down with hungry eyes.

"Y-Yoongi, I..." You stutter. You can feel your face burning up. Yoongi runs a hand along your side and looks you in the eyes.

"Is this okay?" He asks in a low voice. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You are surprised, sure, but you definitely like what is happening. You swallow and nod. "Yes, Yoongi."

He bites his lip and starts undoing the buttons on your sleepshirt. He takes the spoon with frosting on it and examines it for a moment, thinking, before he smears frosting on your chest and uses his fingers to run it down your stomach and below your belly button. He then starts kissing and licking the frosting off your chest. You have never felt anything like this before. The feeling of his tongue on your skin drives you wild, and you moan softly under his mercy.

"Ah, Yoon... That feels good..." You squirm slightly as Yoongi continues licking you clean, trailing lower and lower until he reaches your boxers, holding back your very aroused member. He looks up at you one more time, checking to see if you stop him or not, before he gets on his knees and pulls down your underwear. You hiss slightly at the sudden cold air and blush. Yoongi takes his finger and ever so lightly traces along from your center along your shaft and stops at your tip. He then looks you in the eyes and pumps your cock a few times, getting you harder.

"Y/N, I want to taste you..." He eyes your cock and throws you a serious look. "I won't do it until I have your permission."

You smile, loving how polite he is. "Please do." You huff the words, already extremely aroused and a bit impatient. At your consent, Yoongi licks his lips and grips your thighs as he kisses the tip of your cock first, sending chills down your spine, then putting it in his mouth.

Oh fuck, he's good.

Yoongi uses his tongue to stimulate you while also moving his head, making your mind draw blanks and giving you goosebumps.

"Aw fuck Yoongi, you're really fucking good, hnnn..." You try to keep your voice as composed as possible, which is hard to do considering you are currently getting the best head you have ever had. Yoongi quickens his pace, going harder and deeper while you slightly buck your hips into him. You can't believe how stunningly beautiful he is when you look down at him, his long black hair and perfect skin and beautiful mouth taking your cock. "You're gonna make me come soon, fuck!" As a response, Yoongi goes even faster and harder, trying to get you to your edge. You can't take it anymore.

"Ah, fuck, coming soon, ah, aah, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuCK-" Just as you felt your pleasure peak, Yoongi stops and pulls away, then grabs your dick and puts his thumb on your tip, preventing you from ejaculating. You cry out from the ruined orgasm. "Ohhhhhh fuck, come on, why? Ohhhhh fuck, please." You look down at Yoongi desperately. He gets off his knees and stands up to your level once again.

"Don't panic baby, I just want you to see how good you taste." Yoongi then pushes up against you ad kisses you again, this time snaking in his tongue to explore you. While the two of you make out, his hand goes to your abused cock and starts to pump.

"Hng, hwah, haah..." You moan into Yoongi's mouth at the sensation, still sensitive from how close you got moments ago.

"Don't worry, I won't be mean this time." Yoongi breathes into your mouth as he speeds up the pace of his hand.

"Aw fuck, Yoongi you're killing meeee..." You let out high pitched whimpers as Yoongi brings you closer and closer to your peak for a second time that morning.

"You close baby? You feel good?" Yoongi smirks and attacks your neck with kisses. It's obvious how much he is enjoying watching you at his mercy and disposal.

"Mhm, fuck yes, your hands feel so good round my cock, fuck, I'm gonna come soon..." You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling before Yoongi uses his other chin to redirect your attention to him, planting another sloppy, open-mouth kiss. You do your best to warn him while you make out.

"Hnng, gonna come, gonna come, coming, coming, ah fuck, oohohhhhhhh!" You moan as you come into Yoongi's hand. You stand there, riding out your high and admiring oongi in front of you, steely gaze and eyes locked on yours as he takes his hand to his face and puts a finger in his mouth.

"I knew you'd taste good."

Send me suggestions on what to write next! ~ <3

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