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mania-sama · 3 months

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A Look into Mental Health: Jujutsu Kaisen Analysis

"Being a child is not a sin." (Nanami Kento, Jujutsu Kaisen)

With the release of Chapter 251, I've seen many horrible takes from dudebros saying that Megumi has "sold" the team. This makes me unreasonably angry because of course it does, so obviously my next plan of action is to take all of my hour-long rants about the mental health of JJK characters and put it here, where said dudebros will never see my (correct) analysis in their entire life. Oh well.

One thing Gege is really, really good at is creating believable, undeniably human, and complex characters. Every character has a different set of motivations, beliefs, ideals, and especially mental states. The constant theme of Jujutsu Kiasen has been "Strength vs Weakness". While the clearest interpretation can be seen through the physical attributes of the characters (Gojo being the strongest sorcerer of his time due to his abilities, and Miwa being one of the weakest, again, due to her abilities), it is also directly applied to the mental strength of characters. No two characters are able to withstand the same trauma and come out the exact same, just as no two real people can process the same trauma. Not only is it a result of nature, as people are genetically different and therefore process information differently, but a product of nurture - in other words, character motivation and environment.

This is where we come to the current state of the manga, Chapter 251. The fated Yuuji vs Megumi debate. I keep seeing people wildly misunderstanding these two, and why it's so important that Megumi isn't standing up to fight, why he isn't able to handle his trauma, when Yuuji can.

Gege writes phenomenal characters. And I want to express just how well done they are, making Jujutsu Kaisen actually kind of deserve its popularity, because some people only care about power scaling. I'm going to touch on Megumi last, because understanding all of the other characters' makes his visible struggle that much more impactful.

1. Geto Suguru

I want to start this mental health analysis with Geto. He is the best representation of depression I've ever seen in Shonen. It doesn't take a hundred chapters to showcase a character's downfall. It doesn't take a hundred significant events to cause a character to break down. Gege shows the best, realistic mental breakdown using only a handful of chapters, and still makes it slow and painful.

Depression can start because of a big event, but it doesn't take more for it to worsen. Untreated, depression runs a vicious course that eats a person through slowly but effectively. It isn't one screaming session, hands clutched over the head and cursing God and the world. It's everything piled onto each other. It's coming to the end of that pile and realizing that nothing will ever change.

This is Geto Suguru's story. He has a big event: the fight with Toji and the failure to save Riko. But his mental health journey was fated to decline, even without the fight and failure. The root issue of his depression came from his ability: Cursed Spirit Manipulation. As long as he kept devouring the embodiment of every vile, human emotion, the more he would lose himself to that vileness. He wasn't changing anything; he couldn't help but continue to swim in negativity because that's all he could do.

Gege wasn't making a commentary on Geto's ability. He was talking about people, as they are, and how staying in a bad situation will not always make you stronger. It can, and most likely will, make you worse. A direct comparison to the sixteen-year-old Geto would be a sixteen-year-old at school, surrounded by people who bully and pick on them with harsh words. The kid will eventually consume all of that bullying, all of that negativity, into their being, because there is simply nowhere else to go. School is mandatory; they can't just leave. They eventually feel isolated, with all that vileness piled on. Even if they have friends, those people could never understand what it's like to put up with humiliation and cruelty day after day.

It's not rational to push away a support system, but who said human beings are always rational? People make mistakes. They don't make the right decisions. Geto didn't. He saw someone offer him a chance at change, a possible light at the top of his pile and twisted it to match his overwhelming negativity. He left and swore to destroy the world that made him the way he is, just as that bullied child may turn away from school and society in whatever form that may take.

I want to touch on the physical aspects of Geto's depression, too. I noted this in a previous analysis I did on him (his character is just that amazing, what can I say?), but Gege knew that the mind can't be affected alone. Geto was drawn with deep eyebags, a nod to an inability to sleep or needing to sleep all the time. Depression makes you tired all the time. Everything becomes difficult. He sits with his back hunched, resting his weight on his knees, like sitting upright is too hard. When someone speaks to him, he blinks and takes a second too long to look over or respond, like speaking takes too much energy. To me, it even looked like he was becoming thinner. It's extremely difficult to maintain a schedule of exercise and mealtimes when your mind is fighting an active war against itself.

Again, a beautiful representation of depression. Geto means a lot to me in this aspect.

2. Gojo Satoru

In comparison to Geto, Gojo's horrible mental health is a lot subtler. Depression isn't the correct term, but you don't have to be depressed to be sad. Sadness is his stagnant state; he has moments of bliss, goals to work towards, a reason to keep going, to continue living, to continue chasing the sun over the horizon, but he does return to the same place he is always at when the lights turn off and he's painfully reminded of this one fact: he is isolated.

All of Gojo's problems start and end with isolation. From the moment he was born, everyone knew he was different. He knew he was different. Through glimpses of his childhood and honestly reading between the lines, it's obvious he never played with kids his age. People don't just develop a superiority complex with their only drive to be better than literally everyone else for no other reason than to get better. It comes from somewhere, and in Gojo's case, it's from his young childhood. It seriously messed him up; even now, he can't shake the lesson that "Strength is the only way to success and happiness".

This is what made Geto so important. Geto was somebody who could share the burden of being the strongest. Geto was someone his age who understood him in a way Shoko could not, though they both were able to see Gojo beyond his capabilities as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Gojo then had somebody to base his moral principles on. Because he couldn't connect with anybody else, he had no basis other than strength. Geto taught him why it was important for the strong to protect the weak.

Then everything went wrong. Gojo became isolated again in his strength and lost the only person who could plausibly stand with him. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?" Gojo was young, then, and fresh-faced into his newfound godhood. He didn't kill Geto in that moment because he wanted to deny the claim that he is nothing without his strength, that he isn't as shallow as he was raised to be.

But he knew better. He grew older, he killed his best friend, and he realized that he was nothing without his strength. He never got over Geto. In order to cope with the guilt of being unable to save him when he left, he adopted a whole kid, thinking that if he wasn't strong enough to save Geto, maybe he could save Megumi. But there it is all over again - he never broke from the cycle of strength defining his worth. Saving Megumi would define his strength, right? It would prove Geto wrong, right? He raised Megumi under the same logic (that the only way to save his sister is to be strong), only ridding the boy of the crushing isolation.

In this way, Gojo isn't mentally weak. He didn't abandon society and everyone who loved him, instead choosing to hone the trauma of his isolated childhood into a weapon and teach the next generation to be better than himself. He isn't depressed, but he isn't happy. You can't be happy if you're alone all of the time. He hoped Megumi could be someone to stand by him, but in the end, he failed to save Megumi. His strength couldn't save him, just as it couldn't save Geto.

He isn't mentally strong. He isn't weak, either. He is horribly, painfully average. He's not weak enough to be saved, but not strong enough to save others. His childhood plagues him, but not to the point where it prevents him from living. He killed Geto but was unable to bury the body. Gojo is everything he never wanted to be.

As it turns out, strength can't buy you happiness. Gojo may have understood that, but he couldn't abandon it, even to the bitter end. Just as a human struggles to shed their conditioning. Not everyone can break the cycle, but we are always trying our best to work with what we've been dealt.

3. Okkotsu Yuuta

I'm putting Yuuta in between Gojo & Geto and Itadori & Megumi because he is, in a way, a bridge between the two. Geto and Gojo have lived their lives; their stories are complete and ended in tragedy. Itadori and Megumi's are not. They are still actively struggling and fighting their physical and mental battles; their stories have yet to be completed.

Yuuta's story isn't technically completed (ignoring everything that happened in the recent chapter with him for the sake of MY mental health), he is still a success story. He is the average protagonist who started from the bottom and ended up at the top. Only he, as Gege has done time and time again, has a slightly stronger focus on mental health than most other Shonen. He is success where Gojo & Geto failed, and the success that Itadori & Megumi are narratively striving for.

At the beginning, Yuuta was depressed and suicidal. He was bullied at school and involuntarily hurting others. Instead of becoming resentful of the world, he pushed all of the vileness inward. His guilt caused him to try to take his life, presumably multiple times, but Rika stopped him before he could succeed. His life was effectively out of his hands; he felt powerless with all of the bodies stacking around him, and he couldn't atone for "his" actions.

His mental health, as it was, was in shambles. Gojo then offered him a way forward. Yuuta's mental health did not improve overnight. It was when he made friends at Jujutsu High, and developed a support system, that he was able to relieve his anxiety and realize that life is not so bad after all. That all of this pain and suffering and loss - it will pass.

The most important thing to acknowledge when it comes to Yuuta is the sheer fact that he was not alone, nor did he allow himself to be alone. Unlike Gojo, who still had Shoko and Nanami after Geto left but refused to connect with them, Yuuta allowed himself to get close to those around him. They didn't know the suffering he'd undergone for so many years. They didn't know what it was like to be him, but that was okay. He knew that they had empathy, that even though they could never experience his life, they could still be there for him now when he falls.

When given the opportunity to surrender, Yuuta stands in the face of one Geto Suguru and swears to protect his friends and fight with Rika. He's so far removed from the boy who tried to kill himself at the beginning of the manga, and that's because he let himself be changed. He did not succumb. He had friends, he knew. People that would miss him if he left, and people whom he would regret leaving.

This stays consistent with his character. He doesn't let himself become isolated in his strength or his experiences. He's much stronger than everyone else in the room, he's a special grade and he knows that, but he still treats everyone like they are equals. Like they are his friends, like they are people who could share this burden of existence with him. This is something that Gojo couldn't accomplish, which lends to the fact that Gojo had a very off-hand teaching method when it came to mentoring Yuuta. Instead of influencing him under this idea of strength conquers all, he let Yuuta develop far away from the ideals of the Japanese Jujutsu Society.

And, in the end, the fact of him being physically strong - a special-grade sorcerer from the get-go - never helped him in his mental health. In fact, it made him miserable until he learned to get a handle on Rika. His winning or losing that fight with Geto wasn't the point of his character, it was reckoning with the fact that he is okay now. That he can embrace the ugly part of him with dignity instead of guilt.

4. Itadori Yuuji

Itadori's entire character is that he has an unbreakable spirit. As the only one who can bear the soul of Sukuna, he started off like Yuuta, only on the opposite end of the mental health spectrum. When we first see him, he's happy, spending his afternoons with the Occult Club and watching movies.

... What happened?

Like Geto, everything piled on very slowly. So slow that I'm not even sure he felt the true effects of everything he experienced up until the fall of Shibuya. It starts with the death of grandfather, whose parting words "Just save as many people as you can" haunt him even now during the final fight with Sukuna. He was never given time to properly grieve his grandfather, just as he never had time to grieve the brother curses, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara, Gojo, Higurama. At the end of it all, when the fighting is over, I have to wonder what will become of the boy that realizes he's lost most of the people he loved.

The one time he did try to process it, when he realized that he couldn't control Sukuna, was when he broke down in Shibuya. Sukuna leveled an entire city. For the boy who never wanted to kill another human being for fear of devaluing life, the weight of his weakness killing thousands was crushing. Then Nanami died. Nobara died (still hanging onto that unknown status but I digress). Both are right in front of him, and powerless to prevent Mahito from disintegrating their bodies. So, obviously, Itadori broke down. The boy with the unshakeable spirit, the only person who could contain the King of Curses, has his psyche completely shattered.

He laid on the ground, and he wouldn't have gotten back up if there wasn't somebody to help him, to be there with him. Todo pulled him back together, stitched back up the broken into somebody who has allies and people to fight for. Itadori has the success that Yuuta had, only Itadori did not come out of it with better mental health.

After the breakdown, his unshakeable spirit was nothing more than the will to keep fighting. He cares little for himself, and he tries to distance himself from people to prevent them from dying from his cursed hands. He is jumping, quickly, down the same rabbit hole that Geto fell down. One big event, and they realize just how tall the pile already is, and that it will never stop growing. Unlike Geto, however, he continues to get overbearing support from those around him. Against his will. He can't push them away, for they refuse to leave his side. Yuuta, Choso, Megumi, even Higurama. They won't let him fall. This makes him better off than someone alone, in a sense. He can withstand his trauma when others may not.

Even so, even so, there is only so much support, the lack of self-isolation, can do when the traumas keep actively repeating. When he says that he will gladly die to defeat Sukuna, it is not said with the same tone that another Shonen protagonist would say it. Take Naruto for example. If he were to go into a battle to protect, say, Sasuke, he would scream, "I'll die to protect him." We understand that his willpower is stronger than his self-preservation, but we don't get the idea that he actively wants to die. He'll die if he has to. Now, Itadori says the same thing, but about saving Megumi. He says, "I'll gladly die." There is something different. His willpower is leaps and bounds stronger than his self-preservation, but that's not only it. There is an undercurrent of severe suicidal ideation prevalent in Itadori's tone. It's not that he will die to win, it's that a part of him wants for this to be his final fight. For it all to be over. To save Megumi, then atone for the sin of being too weak to save Shibuya, or being unable to stop the Culling Games, or letting Megumi get hurt when all he wanted was to keep him safe.

I'd call it more along the lines of passive suicidal ideation. He doesn't plan to kill himself, but what would it mean for him to go into dangerous situations without protection? What would it mean for him to succumb to his wounds after he wakes Megumi's soul and kills Sukuna? To not even try to seek medical attention? He's guilty. He believes everything that happened in Shibuya and after is his fault. When faced with the executioner's sword, he was ready to die for his sins, if not for the goal of ending the Games. There is a fine line between willing to die for those you love versus wanting to die for those you love.

Right now, Itadori is fighting to save one person, like his grandfather said. He is not fighting to survive. And that's what people fail to understand about Itadori when they compare him to the other members of the cast. These power-scaling dudebros don't understand that their favorite OP main character has fallen apart at the seams, that his unshakeable spirit to save people doesn't include himself.

5. Fushiguro Megumi

Here we finally come to the question: Why can Itadori take it when Megumi can't? There is a very similar quote that you probably think of whenever you hear this question asked. It's from The Outsiders: "Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't?" The answer to this question that Ponyboy gives is the same we can attribute to Megumi. "And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone."

The entire reason Megumi became a Jujutsu sorcerer was to protect his sister. When he was five years old and probably too young to understand most of the words Gojo said, he accepted the offer of training to become a sorcerer in exchange for Tsumiki's happiness. Every day, he fought to protect her. He only had one goal in entering the Culling Games: to prevent Tsumiki from having to participate.

It's easy to attribute Megumi's constant attempts at summoning Mahoraga to a lack of will to live - suicidal ideation, the same that Itadori now experiences. On one hand, I do understand that he has a fundamental lack of care for his own life, but on the other, I don't think that he intends to throw it all away every single time. He just didn't know any better. Ignorance can lead to death as easily as intentionally seeking it out. That's why he changes his habit after Gojo gives him a lesson in risking death versus dying to win; Megumi still has someone to live for, after all.

Megumi's mental health was already rocky from the start. Not that it was in shambles like Yuuta, but he wasn't fully stable. Like a lot of teenagers, he's moody, somewhat reclusive, and only really likes one or two people maximum. Teenagers aren't known for their sunshine mental health anyway.

Megumi was given time to grieve Itadori after he first died. This trauma of losing him in front of his eyes stuck with him, but he was allowed a grace period of two months to grieve with Nobara. He experienced Shibuya, too, but he still had that one important person to protect. His mental health was alright at this point, all things considered. As long as his sister was alive, he would be fine.

Sukuna knew this. So Sukuna killed Tsumiki using only the Ten Shadows Teqchnique. The one person Megumi spent his whole life dedicated to, was killed by his own cursed technique, his own failure to suppress Sukuna.

In the void of his soul, Megumi was alone. Truly, utterly alone. The only person nearby was Sukuna, the murderer of his sister, the murderer of thousands upon thousands of people. He drowned in the ceremonial bath of crushed curses to hold his soul down in the depths of despair, literally drenched in all of the vileness the world has to offer. Sukuna killed Gojo using Mahoraga's adaption ability, and before that, Megumi was forced to take several of Gojo's mind-altering domain expansions.

Already, he had given up. He gave up when his sister died, but the rest ground a pointed spur into his neck. When Itadori shakes his soul, Megumi is repeating, "That's enough." He was at the end of his rope a long time ago. What more is there to keep living for? He doesn't want to live with the blood of his sister, the blood of the man who practically raised him, and the blood of countless others drenching his hands.

Sukuna killed all of these people, not Megumi. But then, Sukuna killed of those people in Shibuya, not Itadori. Why can Itadori take it? Why can he keep fighting when Megumi lays broken on the ground? Itadori wasn't alone. And Megumi has never been known for his unshakeable spirit. That is the one thing that Itadori can hold over everybody else, the one trait that everyone admires. He was born to shoulder the burden of the world. Megumi wasn't. Megumi wants to die. He is not passively suicidal, for he has no goals left to complete, a plan to die within the body no longer inhabited alone. He is suicidal. He would drive a stake through his heart if it meant relieving his pain. He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's had enough.

And Itadori was in this position once, too? Perhaps not as directly, but he was there. Here is the moment that the protagonist gives the motivating speech to will someone to keep fighting, that life is worth living. I realized today that this is not something Itadori has done yet. He hasn't had a grand speech that's not been about his own willpower. He's never encouraged someone else to keep living in the way that you would expect from the main character. This is his moment, I suppose. He needs to be the person for Megumi that Todo was for him. He has to show Megumi that he isn't alone.

He needs to save Megumi when, all those years ago, Gojo couldn't save Geto.

I don't think some of this fanbase understands how horrible Gege has to be at writing if he just. Let Megumi get up to fight in Chapter 251. All this time, he has shown how Megumi has been defeated. He showed him crumbled on the ground, unmoving. It shouldn't be a surprise that all of the measures Sukuna took to ensnare Megumi's soul worked. Megumi is suicidal after the people he loves have all died because of his technique. God forbid a sixteen-year-old is unable to cope with his trauma alone.

Honorable Mentions:

There are a lot more characters in this story that represent/show mental illness that I didn't go into depth on but are worth mentioning. It was easier to only talk about the major characters since we spend so much time with them and I can fully flesh out everything that should/can be said about them. Anyway, here are a few more that are notably well-written in their mental struggles:

Yoshino Junpei. His story arc follows very similarly to Geto, except he is the bullied student I was making a reference to. Depressed, alone with a mother whose habits he can't stand, he turned to someone he thought could provide him a better life. Interestingly, he is a good representation of the type of children that tend to be groomed. That's surely what happened to him. Mahito used him, then discarded him for his own gains.

Ieiri Shoko. Her main struggle can be seen through her smoking habits. She's been through a lot, lost so many people, and has to keep healing sorcerers only for them to die. Eventually, she was able to come to terms with this. She kicked her smoking habit at the same time she kicked the vicious mental cycle of caring too much about the patient on her table. It's no wonder she picked up a cigarette, for the first time in a while, when Geto led the phantom parade.

Zenin Maki. She works as a very good contrast to Megumi. They both lost their sisters, the people they loved the most, but she turned all of her grief to killing the Zenin clan and gaining Heavenly Restriction. But this, this is because she could do so. There is simply nothing Megumi can do as a soul trapped in his own body. Her grief made her stronger, while for most, it made them weaker.

Inumaki Toge. He isn't seen a lot, but his story is ultimately quite compelling. A boy who hurt many when he was young. He turned his guilt into kindness, a will to protect. He tends a garden to raise plants healthily, for God's sake. He's one of the examples that shows Yuuta that your past actions don't define you, but instead, what you choose to do going forward.

I am not proofreading any of this before I post it. Sorry if it is borderline unreadable with spelling / grammatical errors.

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chrissturnsgirlll222 · 2 months

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second, never first

part fifteen

PLEASE READ WARNINGS

chris x fem!reader

summary - you grew up hating one guy all of high school but suddenly become friends, but as time goes on feelings develop, only its one sided.

warnings - swearing, kissing, use of y/n, mention of family issues (domestic violence between parents), fluff, mentions of underage drinking

word count - 900+?

NOT PROOFREAD

living with an emotionally unavailable parent is soul crushing at times. yes i can say i have two parents who did love each other at one point but it came to an end. to my knowledge no one knows when my dad became a different person. always drinking, going from bar to bar every night, never affectionate to me or my mom, emotionally and apparently physically abusive.

he was never the parent to help you with homework at the dinner table, although if he did i left that table in tears, clutching my book and running up the stairs.

i always had a feeling he did that to my mom but i never saw it so i chose to block out those thoughts, until i saw the proof right in front of me.

there was many moments in which i thought they would eventually split up and i could just live happily with my mom but for some reason it never happened. reasons in which at this point im honestly scared to find out. seeing your parents relationship crash and never having a true representation of what love is can fuck with you.

which brings me to now.

silently crying in chris’ bathroom at 7am after a night out in which i drunkenly confessed to him that i loved him. i thought i did, but did i actually know what that meant? i sure felt it when i was with him.

home.

he felt like home. he felt like safety. he felt like comfort. he felt like when my world was crashing he could come with a toolbox and fix it within seconds.

sure thats what you would want out of your significant other, but i dont know what love truly is.

i sat on the toilet with the lid down with my face buried into my hands and tears that never seemed like they would stop. struggling to breathe for air as i my mind just raced with thoughts. my parents, chris, anna, everything.

knock, knock

fuck. me.

i get up and wipe my face, hand on the door nob slowly twisting it. i crack to door open and im greeted with the all to familiar blue eyes that i seemed to drown in every time i looked into them. his face saddens as i open the door wider and his arms come over my shoulders. “what wrong?” chris whispers as i wept into his chest. i dont respond and just shake my head against him. he pulls away and puts one hand on the side of my face and the other one is placing my hair behind my ear, “theres nothing you cant tell me y/n, why are you crying”

“i cant-“ i croak, dropping my head down and putting my hands up to face. “yes you can, what happened?” he sighs as he pets the back of my head. “i told you i loved you” i sniffle

“what?”

“i- i told you i loved you.” i say more sternly this time.

“why is that a reason to cry kid?” he whisperers wiping my tears. “chris what do i know about love, nothing. i was shown a fucked up version of an abusive relationship my entire life. thats no way to learn what love is, i dont know what it truly feels like. m- my dad fucked me over for my entire life by being who he is, i dont know if i can ever fix that part inside of me.” i let out a sob.

“well y/n i know what love is, i am standing with it right now” he begins, “this, this right here is love,” he points between us, “them, that is love” he points at the hallway meaning his brothers. “this” he kisses me, “that is love.”

i blink at him as he talks, just in awe of his way with words. “there is never a day that i dont worry about you, if your ok, if you want to stop this fake relationship, if you even give a shit about me.” he half chuckles, “i was shown love not just by my parents but by you.” he breathes.

“you might not exactly know if your in love with me but i sure as hell am in love with you.”

jaw, on the fucking floor.

“you what?” i sniffle. “i fucking love you”

i lean up grabbing either side of his face and pull him in to a kiss. the salt of tears and chris hitting my tongue and i continue to cry into the kiss as tears flow out of my closed eyes.

“i love you too.” i pull away and he leans in again.

home, thats exactly what this felt like. i had never felt safer than in this moment. maybe i didnt know what real love was, but i knew i felt it when i was with him. i felt it for months and it was right in front of me but i always believed it was too good to be true.

thanks for reading xx

taglist: @sleepysturnss @blahbel668 @alorsxsturn @w4nnabeurs @junnniiieee07 @waydasims @matthewloverr @bitchydragonparadise @matthewsturnioloswifey @iloveneilperry @stunza @realuvrrr @sturnsjtop @tubl-mc @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @sturnssmuts @emlovesthesturniolos

a/n: love you all<333

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

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The Fractured Moon - Part 1

Yandere! Marc Spector - Jake Lockley - Steven Grant X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Moodboard - Series Masterlist - AO3 Link

Summary:

Marc Spector always knew he wasn't right in the head. Jake and Steven were a perfect example of that. He'd managed to figure that part of his life out though, learning how to live with his alters in a way that left everyone happy, including Khonshu.

That all changed when Steven spotted you during a tour at the museum. There was no explanation for the way his heart stopped in his chest, or the way he knew he had to have you, but they all felt it, and it left their minds fractured beyond repair.

Disclaimer:

I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 13.7k (I...I was inspired)

Spanish Terms:

Estoy de acuerdo = I agree

hijo de puta = motherfucker

Quiero tocar = I want to touch

buena niña = good girl

Steven was the first one to notice you, standing by the sarcophagus the museum had on display. He could see you through the archway that separated the museum floor and the giftshop. There was no explaining what it was that captivated him. It could’ve been the way your eyes lit up so full of excitement while the tour guide spoke; it also could’ve been the way your smile seemed to make the entire world come to a screeching halt; regardless, something about you took his breath away and left him clutching his chest behind the gift shop counter. Donna snapped at him, and for once, he didn’t care. He’d just found his reason for living…his purpose…it was you.

It started with a simple conversation. He walked up behind you while you were listening to the tour guide and put a daring hand on your back. You spun around to face him, eyes full of confusion, unsure as to why someone would just walk up to you and touch you like that. You were wearing something low-cut, Steven’s eyes quickly took inventory of your appearance. So much more beautiful than he had the capacity to fully grasp.

You felt a moment of discomfort under his traveling gaze. He was looking at you with his mouth partially open, lips quirked in a sideways smirk while his eyes crawled over every inch of you. You stepped back and pulled your blazer over yourself, feeling a little uncomfortable with the way he was staring.

“Can I help you?” You asked, trying not to sound too rude. It was possible he was just awkward and bad at talking to people.

Now that Steven had your attention, he wasn’t sure what to say. Did he just randomly ask you on a date? No, surely you’d think that was insane. Did he tell you how beautiful you were? No, that might be creepy.

“Just tell her you’re sorry pendejo, you’re creeping her out.” Jake muttered from within Steven’s mind.

“S-sorry, thought you were someone else.” He said to you, taking a step back.

“Oh, it’s okay.” You gave him a courteous smile before returning to the tour.

You thought about that interaction for a few minutes while the tour guide droned on, wondering who he’d mistaken you for, and why he would’ve looked at her like that.

“Something’s not right, Steven,” Marc said from the headspace while Steven stood there, hand still pressed to his sternum.

“Si, something about her is so…”

“Tantalizing.”

The other two agreed in unison. Steven sauntered back to the gift shop, trying to go about his business, but no matter what, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He was in a daze, going through the motions of his job, but not mentally present. Donna approached, and he didn’t even notice her right away. She had to say his name a minimum of three times to get his attention.

He looked up at her, aggravated by her seemingly incessant need to make him feel like a nuisance. She was smacking her jaw together while chewing her gum.

“Stevie, we’re out of the hippo plushies, I’m gonna need you to go downstairs and bring a case up here.”

Steven didn’t want to miss the chance of seeing you, he had to see you again. Surely your tour would be ending soon. If he wasn’t in the gift shop when it ended, he might not see you. He couldn’t take that risk.

“The plushies can wait. I’ve got something more pressing to worry about right now.” He protested, looking out toward the museum entry to see if he could spot you among the other patrons.

“Oh yeah, like what? You’ve got something better to do than your job? While you’re at work?” She said, continuing to chew her gum obnoxiously between her teeth.

“Fine,” Steven conceded, knowing that he didn’t really have a good reason to stand there and wait for you, not one that he could give his boss anyway.

Steven walked out to the entry hall, where you would be walking by to get to the giftshop once your tour concluded. He stopped before turning down the hall toward the stock closets. He spotted you, coming toward him with your group and felt his breath catch suddenly. He thought he might collapse.

As you walked toward the gift shop, you saw the man again, and noticed he was staring once more. You furrowed your brow at him while you passed before averting your gaze awkwardly. He was looking at you so…so…it was like you were the only thing in existence. It made every nerve ending in your body stand up, screaming at you to leave, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to seem weird. Plus, you were in a public space. There was nothing to be afraid of…right?

Donna was shouting Steven’s name incorrectly, pulling him out of his trance. She tapped his shoulder roughly. Steven gulped down a breath of air and within a split second, it wasn’t Steven anymore.

“Shut it, puta, I quit.” Jake said walking out of the museum doors.

“Jake, we can’t just quit my job, how are we gonna…”

“Your job isn’t necessary, compadre.”

It was true, as much as Steven hated to admit when Jake was right. His job was a good way for them, as Moon Knight, to keep themselves under cover. No one would suspect a timidly mannered man that worked as a gift shop clerk to be an avatar for the Egyptian moon god.

Jake blinked in the harsh sunlight, looking to see where you could’ve gone. Since it was a nice day out, you were probably walking, which meant you would be easier to find.

“Let me out, I can find her,” Marc said.

And find you he did. He followed you after seeing a glimpse of your blazer blowing in the wind as you turned a corner down the street. He tried not to get too excited, careful not to break into a jog or a run after you. Marc had to find a balance between getting too close, thus alerting you to their presence, and being too far away that he might lose you altogether. He followed you a few blocks when he watched you walk into the library.

“She…she likes to read,” Steven observed.

Marc could feel how excited Steven was by that prospect alone. You had something in common with one of them. There was potential there. Maybe this would go better than they thought. He stopped before going inside though, feeling unsure about what it was they were actually doing there. He’d seen how uncomfortable his alter made you when he first spoke to you during your tour.

“Marc, what are you doing? Go inside, now.” He’d never heard Steven sound so demanding, or dark, and something about it compelled Marc to move forward.

He walked into the library and nodded awkwardly at the librarian. Marc didn’t know where you were yet, and he still wasn’t sure what he would do once he did find you. He couldn’t very well walk over and strike up a conversation with you. You’d notice the out of place American accent immediately and think they were crazy. He started idly walking, staying behind shelves in case they did find you. He didn’t want you to notice their presence.

When he finally found you, Marc’s guilty conscience caught up to him. You were so cute, grabbing a book off the shelf in the aisle across the way before walking to sit down in one of the big bean chairs. You smiled as you opened the book. The cover read, La Belle et la Bête. An unmistakable smirk snuck over Marc’s lips at the sight of you.

Someone walked by the aisle, cutting off his gaze and forcing him to shake his head from the fog you’d unknowingly placed him under. What in the hell were they doing? Marc wasn’t a psycho stalker, neither were the other two, and yet they’d followed you all the way there, and they stood watching you. That wasn’t like them at all. They were the good guys. They were the guys that stopped creeps like that.

Marc walked down the aisle and exited the library as quickly as he could.

“Where are you goin’?” Steven asked, almost frantically as Marc started his way down the street.

“We aren’t crazy, we aren’t going to stalk this poor girl.” He said, as they walked away. It didn’t stop him from thinking about you though.

----

When they reached their apartment, a dark and dingy place that was mostly occupied by Steven, they were all flustered from the events of the day. Marc was still fronting, but his alters were muttering wildly in his head. Jake was going on in Spanish about how beautiful you were, and Steven was in full agreement. Marc was still trying to understand this new feeling, the urge he had that he’d never felt before. He felt this huge need, like if he never saw your face again, he might just die.

“We have to go back, we have to see her,” Steven said, excitement brewing in his tone. If he had control of the body, Marc imagined he would be pacing and hyperventilating. “Never seen anyone like that, so gorgeous, so…so damn pretty. Wasn’t she so pretty Marc?”

“We just need to calm down.” Marc said, breathing heavily himself and leaned himself against the couch tiredly. “Maybe if we just sleep it off we can-”

“Did you see the way she looked at us, Marc? I think she likes us.” Steven said. “The way she smiled…”

“She wasn’t into us, we startled her.” Marc protested. “You creeped her out.”

“Did not. She smiled at me, I bet if we had asked her out she woulda said yes.”

“Did you notice how soft her skin looked?” Jake asked, and there was silence, as though all three of them were recalling your appearance. “We don’t need to talk to her, but what I wouldn’t do just to look at her again.”

Marc’s thoughts consumed him. He remembered seeing your lips while you sat there in the library, for that brief moment. You did look so beautiful. Your eyes lit up at whatever was on your page, not noticing the man who was watching you intently while he just tried to figure out a way to actually approach you.

Your lips looked so soft, and he couldn’t help imagining them against his. He wanted to devour you in the best way. No one had ever made Marc feel so shaken, he could normally keep himself together. His cock was nagging incessantly against the zipper of his pants, begging for stimulation. He shifted, trying to ignore it, but what he wanted to ignore, the other two wanted him to deal with.

“If you’re not going to do anything about it, amigo, let Steven or me take care of it. I’d love to spend the night thinking about our little princesa.”

Marc grumbled, but gave in to his more primal urges and pulled his pants and underwear down around his thighs. When he looked down at his cock, he was ashamed that it was already leaking just from thinking about you so much. Not to mention that he was so fucking hard. He shifted himself, leaning back a little, grabbing it firmly in his caged fingers. Marc pooled some spit in his mouth and dropped it over the head, letting the saliva trickle down his thick shaft. All he could picture was you, so sweet and innocent while you got into your book. A heavy sigh left him while he brought his hand up in an even stroke.

“She was so pretty, wasn’t she Marc?” Steven urged, “I’ll need a turn with the body when you’re done, yeah?”

“Quiet, Steven.” Marc said firmly.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I just keep thinkin’ about how good her breasts looked, pushed together like that…I just wanna feel them, hold them in my hands. I bet she has pretty little nipples, too, don’t you?”

Marc groaned at the thought of having one of your tits in his mouth. He assumed that you had cute little nipples, and he imagined that you would gasp when he sucked on each one. He then thought about how sweet your little cries would be while he took hold of your body and thrust into you. You had such a nice voice, you’d probably make the best noises.

“I bet she has a tight little cunt,” Jake sounded rough. Marc knew he only had a little time before his alter took over to satisfy his own needs.

“Bet you’re right.” Marc said, not bothering to attempt pushing them out anymore. They were fueling his thoughts of you.

“Oh, I’d love to feel it, bet it’s all wet.” Steven sighed heavily.

“F-fuck.” Marc started jerking faster, but he didn’t get to finish.

Jake couldn’t stand it anymore, the thoughts of you brought him out into the open, forcing Marc into the headspace where he would remain for the evening, begrudgingly. Deep down though, Marc still felt riddled with guilt, so didn’t protest much to his alter taking over. Jake bit his bottom lip, adjusting his position to one he liked better, a looser grip, and shoulders more relaxed. He worked faster than Marc, at first anyway, letting out a sharp exhale while he jerked himself. There wasn’t enough slick beneath his fingers, so he globbed more spit down his length.

“See, I think Jake’s onto something. I wonder if she’d like us taking her slow, or if she’d like us to take her fast, real fast.”

“She wouldn’t like any of it Steven, we’re not…doing any of that.” Marc’s guilt for thinking about you so much was becoming more apparent, but he still couldn’t stop himself. “She would look good though, wouldn’t she?”

“Gotta know what she feels like, gotta know how tight…mm” Jake put his arm up on the back of the couch and leaned back, spreading his legs wider. “Little princesa.”

Jake slowed down, moving along the length of his shaft and enjoying the way it pulsated beneath his fingers. He knew if he ever got the chance to show you how it felt, you’d like it, too. Just when he couldn’t stand it, so close to spilling hot white ropes all over Steven’s shirt, he stopped, bringing his hand to the couch cushion and letting it rest there.

His cock bobbed, having been so close to climax. Jake was panting heavily, sweat started beading on his brow. His cock was aching, so swollen it might burst. He looked down at it, watching the way his precum beaded at the slit, piling so much that it trickled over the side. Steven was practically screaming from the headspace to be let out so he could finish them off.

“Be patient, Steven,” Jake said as a warning, waiting a little longer before wrapping his fingers back around his thick cock.

He churned his hips upward into his palm, letting out a soft exhale at the feeling. His mind kept going back to how tight and wet he hoped your pussy was; how soft he hoped it was. It wasn’t like Jake to give into obsession like this, but something about you had flipped a switch in their minds, fracturing the line between order and chaos. He imagined himself fucking you until you screamed his name. He thought about how good you would look so cock drunk you could hardly open your eyes.

“I keep thinkin’, she was smilin’. I think she’d like anything we did to her.” Steven said, furthering the delusion in his mind that you were as into them as they were you.

“Like…like what?” Jake grunted, increasing his pace and encouraging Steven to keep muttering the filthy thoughts in his mind.

“Oh anything, I think she’d love if we kissed her, told her how pretty she is, filled her with everything we’ve got.”

“Yeah she would, she’d like that…hmm…”

Just as he was there, with his abdomen tightened in preparation for his release, Jake let go of his cock once again, letting it sit there, twitching as it was denied further friction. He let out a sigh of longing, but he knew waiting would make it all the more explosive. It didn’t matter though, the other alter was chomping at the bit, and couldn’t wait any longer.

Steven came out to the feeling of painful throbbing between his legs, desperate for more attention. He gathered another huge glob of spit together and dropped it down over his length. He moaned deeply the moment he started moving his palm over the slick and veiny surface. He was anything but quiet, whimpering and whining while he got to work. It felt so good, and thinking about the way your slick cunt would feel if…when he finally got the chance to have it just pushed him so much closer.

“We’ve got to feel it, we’ve got to…oh shit.” Steven bit his bottom lip so hard he thought it might bleed.

“Estoy de acuerdo.” Jake muttered, “I want to taste.”

Marc was staying silent now. Steven presumed he was feeling the guilt of this obsession that was brewing, but Steven couldn’t care less, he was so enraptured by you. He grabbed the couch tightly, squeezing the cushion with all his strength. He was stroking himself fast, thinking about how wet you would be if only they had the chance to show you how good they could make you feel.

“That’s it, Steven, bet she’d like to feel us filling her up. Who do you think she’ll like best?”

It wasn’t lost on Marc that Jake and Steven were speaking as though they were actually going to have you some day. Steven couldn’t take it anymore, he felt his climax build, pooling in his groin and then shooting in hot spurts against his patterned button-down. He was groaning deeply, bucking upward even after the last shot, just loving the feeling of emptying himself to the thought of you. They all were loving the thought of emptying themselves into you…

----

It was their hope, Marc’s especially, that their obsession had been curbed with the evening of self-love, but it hadn’t. Over the next few weeks, they each found themselves going from casually walking by places they hoped they might find you, to full on following you from one destination to the next. On Fridays, you could be found in the library, on the beanbag chair, reading a book that you would take home for the week. Steven thought it was cute what a fast reader you were.

Marc would see you at work sometimes on the other days of the week. That was how they learned that you were a waitress at a local diner. You probably didn’t even realize that you handed Marc coffee, and that he eerily resembled the guy from the museum some time ago. They’d considered asking you out on a few occasions, but they kept reverting back to the one problem they faced…the fear of rejection. What if you said no? They’d be forced to take drastic measures, and they didn’t want to scare you away. They couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Jake would watch you in the night. Most nights, after you were finished with work, you would go home to your little first floor apartment in the crappy part of town; but on the weekends, he’d see you go out with your friends, laughing and drinking. One weekend was different though, you changed your routine, he saw you out with someone else.

There was a man, roughly their age, and they all felt an immediate cold feeling wash over the body. You were sitting with him in a nice restaurant. You were wearing something pretty, a tight little red dress that hugged your curves beautifully. It was clear you’d styled your hair specifically for this outing, and your makeup was done in a way that they hadn’t seen before. You liked this guy. Jake’s hands clenched into balled fists at his sides.

“Who’s that man?” Steven asked, aggravation apparent in his tone. “Don’t like the way he’s lookin’ at her mate.”

“Looks like she’s on a date,” Marc said, feeling a mixture of pain and relief. Maybe this was how they moved on.

Jake tsked, shaking his head slowly, “hijo de puta.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna…that he’s gonna touch her, do you?” Steven sounded worried, like if the man touched you, you might disintegrate into thin air.

“Not a chance,” Jake said in a gruff tone.

They watched quietly, save for Steven who whined through the majority of your date. He was so worried about the man tainting you, as he put it. And if Jake was being honest, he agreed. The thought of someone else burying their filthy disgusting cock in your perfect little cunt made them all enraged. They were relieved when the man brought you home and then left without even coming close to doing what they’d feared. They each appreciated what a good girl you were.

You’d never hear from that man again, and you’d always think it was because he ghosted you, when in reality it was much darker than that. Despite Marc’s protests, Jake couldn’t stand by and let someone else touch you. The thought of it had driven him to near madness. You were their little princess, not someone else’s to do with as they wished.

“I don’t think this is what Khonshu intended we use the suit for,” Steven said, despite being in agreement that the man needed to go somehow.

Jake snapped back, “that fucking bird needs us, he doesn’t care what we use the suit for.”

On a night not long after that, Jake found himself smirking while standing outside of your window, watching you while you readied yourself for bed. Your skin looked ridiculously soft. He wondered for a moment if you knew you were being watched. Surely you must’ve, it was apparent in the way you removed your bra and turned toward the window. Why else would you have left your curtain open like that? If you didn’t want to be seen, you would’ve closed your blinds, right?

Steven burst out to the front when that happened, seeing your erected nipples on display made him feral. He did all he could to not open your window right there and take you where you stood. Some drool dribbled down his chin and he wiped it quickly on the sleeve of Jake’s jacket.

“Oh come on, pendejo, that’s disgusting.”

Steven ignored him. His eyes burned when he didn’t blink, not wanting to miss even a millisecond of time with you. In just moments, you were covering your blinds, and they weren’t able to see anything else. They still stood there, hoping that you would give them just one last peek before they left for the night, but they’d be left disappointed.

The next morning, Marc knew you were at work, having passed by the diner on his way to your apartment. He had a plan…a thought to hopefully end this insanity once and for all.

“Marc, what are you thinkin’?” Steven asked cautiously as Marc shimmied open your window.

“You’ll like it…trust me.” He grunted, pulling the window open completely so they could slide through.

Marc still felt guilty for all the things they did; watching you, following you, jerking their cock to you almost every single night since they’d first seen you, but he knew there was no stopping it. He couldn’t get you out of his head, in the same way he couldn’t get Jake and Steven out. You were as much a necessity to him as the air he breathed.

“Maybe if we just…get ourselves a little something, we can stop this nonsense. Maybe just a little taste will be enough.” He hoped that they could find some way to move on from the mess, and everyone could get back to their normal lives.

The bedroom of your apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. They appreciated beyond words that you’d left what Marc had in mind right on the floor for them. A nice, silky pair of black panties just laying there. He leaned down, grabbing the thin fabric in his hands. He was tempted to press them to his face right then and there, but knew that doing so would lead to a longer visit than intended. He wouldn’t be able to resist the lingering ache that came with it. Even thinking about it at that moment made him start to feel a need growing inside his jeans.

“Look, there’s her hamper,” Steven pointed out the basket in the corner of the room, “maybe we could grab two more pairs, one for each of us.”

“No, we don’t want her to notice.” Marc protested, slipping back out the window without a trace, save for the missing pair of panties he hoped you’d never notice.

----

It was later that night, after they’d spent the day with you, watching you work and seeing to it that you went to bed, that Marc was in his own bed with your panties in one hand, and his cock in the other. He’d stripped down naked the moment he got home, eager to finally get a look at their prize. They were soft, beautiful, and just knowing you’d had them touching the most delicate part of your body made his cock ache with need.

“Smell it, Marc, what’s it smell like?”

Marc obeyed his alter’s request, already being curious himself, and brought the part that had been closest to your cunt up to his nose. He inhaled deeply while making an upward stroke. He shuddered on his exhale. You smelled…delicious. It was too good to be real. You smelled indescribable.

“Marc, please let me out, let me try,” Steven started from the headspace. He was the neediest of the three, and Marc knew he had to work quickly to make sure he got this time for himself.

Marc ignored both of his alters now, wanting to revel in the silence of his thoughts, imagining that he was burying his face in your delicious pussy lips instead of just inhaling the remnants of it on your panties. He felt his cock throb, just imagining how your core would feel on his tongue if he shoved it in there. Your walls would contract a little while he slurped your sweet juices.

He tossed his head back, biting his bottom lip while he ran his palm over his precum slick shaft. You had such an effect on them, he’d never leaked that much before. He worried that thinking about you was starting to make him feel insane. Then he thought…what if he actually got to touch you?

Marc would have to continue those thoughts from the headspace, because Jake couldn’t take it anymore. Marc protested briefly, fighting to keep control, but the smell of your pussy was too intoxicating to his alter, and Jake needed to have it first hand. He dragged the crotch of the panties up his nostril with a deep sniff and then he nearly collapsed. The scent was unbearably arousing.

“Jake, please let me have the body, please. I need it,” Steven said. “Give it to me now.”

Steven’s thoughts had taken a darker turn since the first time he’d seen you, but Jake was too enraptured at that moment to bother listening to him. He switched the silky undergarment to his dominant hand and wrapped it around his cock. Just touching it to his body sent an unbearable tingling through each nerve ending. Jake had never whined like that, it surprised even him. The same thing that touched your cunt, was now touching his cock. It was the closest they had been to feeling you like that.

“You’re gonna ruin it before I can get a shot,” Steven was getting even more antsy, “please bruv, I need it.”

Jake didn’t give a shit if he ruined the panties. In fact, he fully intended to coat your silky underwear in his hot sticky cum. He had no intention of handing the body to Steven. The other alter could sit in the headspace and suffer for all he cared. Just the thought alone was driving Jake mad. He wanted to make sure he could give it his all, so he waited, like before, pausing just before his release.

He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily through his nostrils, allowing his cock to settle before starting again. He was still hearing Steven shouting, nearly breaking down the walls that separated them. Steven had never been so eager to front, and Jake had to admit it was a struggle to keep him at bay. This wasn’t typical Steven behavior, but you’d changed their dynamic ever since you came into their lives.

Jake was painfully hard again. Precum was trickling over the sides and sticking to the satin fabric. Jake stroked the cloth over himself slowly, sucking in a breath and wrinkling the sheets in his fist. It was slick now, sliding easier. He wondered what you’d done in those panties.

Did you touch yourself? Of course you did. You had to have. He imagined you, arching your back with your fingers plunged deep inside of yourself, squelching your arousal around your digits with every deep drag. You were probably masterful with your hands, knowing exactly how to fuck yourself in a way that made you a panting mess while you came all over your little hands.

“Fuck…mm-princesa…” he was close, so close. “Right there…gonna…ah…”

“Oh, God,” Steven said, taking a deep breath now that he finally had control. He finally felt the sensation of your panties against his cock in full. His entire body rattled the bed frame. “So sweet, oh my…”

Steven clutched the undergarments in both of his shaky hands and brought them to his nostrils, depositing some of his own precum on his lips. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t even worried about grabbing his cock yet, he was so focused on inhaling every bit of you that he could get. It felt like the times Marc drank too much, intoxicating, and leaving Steven’s eyes unable to open beyond halfway.

“So good, never smelled-anything-oh fu-.” Steven’s body quivered. His chest was heaving, each exhale accompanied with a high-pitched whine, “s-so fuckin’…mm-oh.”

Steven thrust his hips hungrily. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it over the crotch of the panties, right where your hole would’ve gone. He whimpered and moaned, feeling his cock pulsate harshly, bobbing against his abdomen. He was coming, covering himself in his hot spend and filling the room with his heavy groans. Steven continued churning his hips upward into nothing, like he was fucking the air.

By the time he came down from his orgasm, the body was spent, tired, and unable to continue after that. Steven fell asleep with your silky black panties on his face.

----

Marc was relieved at first when he thought his solution worked. There was no need to keep stalking you when they had such a perfect piece of you in hand. It was a good solution, until he started losing time again. Marc didn’t realize at first that one of his alters was using the body to take pictures of you while you undressed, showered, and slept. He found the pictures, a couple weeks after they’d stolen your panties, printed out and stuffed in a box under the bed.

“You weren’t supposed to see those,” Steven muttered from the headspace. “Those were just a little thing for Jake and me. Put them back.”

“You guys, what the hell?” Marc’s brow remained furrowed, but his heart rate betrayed him as he shuffled from one photo to the next. “We aren’t supposed to be doing this. This was all supposed to…stop.”

You were simply fucking breathtaking though.

Marc shut his mouth after his breathing turned ragged and suddenly felt so foolish. He stuffed the pictures back in the box and slid it under the bed. He went to the bathroom and got into the shower, desperate to wash away the filthy thoughts coursing through his mind. Jake must’ve been the one to take the pictures, being sneaky as he was. Surely he’d done it behind Marc’s back so he wouldn’t have to hear the scolding.

Marc was right. Jake had gone to your apartment two weeks after they got their first souvenir, after they’d sufficiently caked it in so many layers of cum that it had lost your scent, to get more. When he got there, and snapped the first picture, he wondered to himself why they hadn’t snagged any photos of you before. Surely a picture or two would help them curb this growing desire, right?

Twenty-seven. Jake Lockley took twenty-seven photos of you.

He hid them in the shoebox under the bed, in hopes that he and Steven could enjoy them and keep it from Marc. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep them from Marc, but Jake knew that when he found out, he wouldn’t be happy. He knew what Marc was trying to do, get back to some sense of normalcy for the three of them, and while Jake commended him on his valiant efforts, he couldn’t shake the urges inside.

Marc was still trying to convince himself that they could come back from how far they’d gone. He was letting the hot water run down over his body and trying to tell himself that despite following you for weeks, stealing your underwear, taking pictures of you naked, and killing your date, they could move on, and pretend none of it had happened. No matter how hard he tried though, he kept thinking about you, all the times they’d watched you, and now he had photos.

He could stare at you whenever he wanted; your perfect body, lips, and eyes, all of it was right there for him to look at. He should’ve been scolding his alters for using the body to get them, but he was so enamored by those little treasures they’d gathered now that he was almost grateful they’d done it. He was painfully erect by the time he got out of the shower, resisting every urge to relieve himself to thoughts of you, but he didn’t have the willpower. When it came to you, he never did.

“Marc, you stay away from the one of her lips, that one’s mine,” Steven said firmly.

Marc was too ashamed to even admit to the voices in his head that he was about to jerk off to pictures of you, but he suspected that they knew full well what he intended to do. For once, they were quiet, each waiting to have their turn. Marc used lotion this time, desperate to feel the slick glide of his fingers over his length. He wanted to stroke himself and imagine it was you, soft and wet.

He chose three photos in particular. One of you standing in front of your window, arching your back in profile view. Your perfect breasts had him whining while he dragged over his cock, relishing in the delicious sensation. He knew it probably paled in comparison to how you really felt, but this was as close as he was ever going to get.

The other photo was one of your legs. They must’ve been so close to you to get that picture. Your blankets were off of your body, hanging lazily over the side of the bed. You had worn just underwear and a shirt to sleep. Was that what you normally wore? He hoped so. Your skin looked so soft, so perfect. There was a small peek of your asscheeks sticking out under the hem of the panties. Marc could only think about how badly he wanted to touch you. He let out a choked whine at the thought.

The final image he’d chosen was one of you just out of the shower. He started wondering if you knew you were being watched. Why else would you stand in front of your window like that…

That’s when Marc realized that wasn’t a photo taken from outside…it was taken from inside your apartment. A chill ran over his spine, Jake had been inside your apartment while you were awake, likely tucked away in your closet.

“You guys…” He paused his movements, “you were in her apartment while she was awake?”

“Had to get the perfect angle, pendejo, enjoy it or give up the body so one of us can take over,” Jake said harshly.

No way Marc was letting that happen. He needed that sweet release. All too often Jake or Steven would come in at the last second and take it from him. He felt his cock twitching against his abdomen, demanding his attention. Marc looked down at it, precum leaking over the sides. The lotion left white streaks all over the shaft.

He started his smooth motion again, sliding vigorously over the veiny surface. Oh you were so pretty. So perfect in the way you posed for them. Marc tried to tell himself that what they were doing was wrong, but your expressions and posture confused him, almost like you wanted to be seen; like you wanted them to want you, to take those pictures of you. Whether it was true or not, it was working.

They wanted you, more than anything.

Marc had the pictures spread over the top of the dresser. He grabbed the edge of the stained wood while he continued working on himself, filling the apartment with squelching wet noises. He lurched forward when the heat pooled in his abdomen, gasping a sharp breath while he felt his cock stiffen in his smooth palm. In a mad rush, he grabbed some tissues out of the box on the dresser and spilled into them with a flurry of deep groans.

Jake followed suit, once their short refractory period ran its course, grabbing his images of choice to chase his own release. He loved looking at you too, every curve of your body spoke to his deepest desires. He wanted to feel your skin grow hot from his gloved hand, striking you in an effort to make you more pliant. Your rear could take it, so round and soft, he could imagine the feeling of it under his firm grip.

When Jake was finished his turn, Steven came out like an animal in heat, scrambling with shaky hands for a picture they took of your lips. You’d been sound asleep when they took that photo. He didn’t want to admit it, but Steven did all he could not to thrust himself down your throat while you slept. He was sure you would’ve liked it, the way they tasted, but he also thought it may be a little too bold. If they were going to have some time with you, he was going to have to be more clever than that.

Steven’s precum was lubricating enough for him to run his cock along the glossy sheen of the photo, right against your lips. He imagined how it would feel, seeing them, stretched out around his girth. He thought even more about how good it would feel to have your throat contract when you gagged on his length. It took no time at all for him to turn into a mess of crying moans while coating the photo in his spend.

----

“S’not enough Marc, we need more,” Steven muttered while they stood outside of your apartment window once again.

You’d just gone to bed, this time leaving your blinds open like you did on occasion when the nights were warm. The soft rise and fall of your chest could be seen even at a distance. Marc felt his brow begin to sweat in anticipation. He didn’t want to do what Jake and Steven had done to get those pictures, sneak into your apartment with you inside, but he’d started to think that maybe if they achieved that delicious release in such close proximity to your body, they could move on. There was still a small part of him that believed they could move on, despite everything they’d done.

“This is so fucked up,” Marc said, taking a step closer to your window.

“Need me to do it?” Jake asked, itching to get out.

“Stop, I can do it…I just…” Marc growled, feeling the frustration of conflict inside his mind.

He paused, gulping and staring at you while you slept. His feet were frozen before finally he…

Marc blacked out, and hours later he was in their own house with a balled up and sticky pair of your panties in his hand, unable to recall what had happened. Marc hadn’t been to the house in a long time. Usually they stayed in Steven’s apartment. It was so close to his job, before he’d quit, and even closer to the crimes and villains that they had put off fighting since finding you.

Steven would remember how the night was spent though, he’d remember it for the rest of his life.

He had snuck in through your window with Jake’s encouraging words, and found himself standing at your bedside. They’d learned your sleeping patterns so well by then, knowing exactly when you were fast asleep based on the way you breathed. Steven wiped some excess saliva that had dribbled down his chin. Since it was warm that night you’d worn a tanktop and shorts to bed. He could see the roundness of your asscheeks peeking out from the hem of your bottoms.

“Quiero tocar,” Jake said in a dark tone from inside the headspace.

“We can’t touch…not yet,” Steven said in a low whisper.

He fumbled with his belt, careful not to let it clank too loudly as he undid it and then worked on his zipper. You shifted a little, but he knew you were still dreaming. He wondered if you were dreaming about him, or one of the other two. He still remembered how you looked at them that day at the museum, and he still felt like something in your eyes spelled love to him.

Putting the excess spit that had once again accumulated in his mouth to good use, Steven dropped a glob down onto his cock. You continued breathing quietly, your sweet little voice falling over his ears like honey. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad. He could be quick, he knew he could, sliding into the bed with you, fucking you while you slept. If they were careful, surely you wouldn’t wake, right? Or, even better, you might wake up and find that you enjoyed it just as much as they did.

“I wanna fuck her.” Steven whispered suddenly, surprising even himself with the crass statement.

“Can’t risk it Steven, just leave her a little present on her legs compadre.”

“Yeah, yeah on her legs. Aces.” He agreed, excited by the prospect of their cum being on you.

He had to stroke fairly slow, trying not to fill your apartment with the loud wet slaps of him jerking off to your sleeping form. He focused on the apex of your thighs, right where he knew your tight little pussy was hiding. He imagined how wet you would be if only you let him have you. You’d be a mess, soaking and dripping down the sides of his cock.

“She’s such a pretty little princesa; bet that cunt is like heaven, I’d love a little taste.” Jake was getting more and more restless as Steven approached his climax.

“Jake, please, let me…”

He couldn’t resist, needing to feel the high that came with shooting spurts of cum all over the backs of your thighs. Jake came to the front, just in time to feel that mind-numbing euphoria that Steven worked so hard to achieve. He tried to make it up to Steven by bringing home a fresh and silky souvenir, the same one that Marc fronted with now in his hands, after Steven got to them first of course.

When you woke up in the morning, you would be puzzled trying to figure out what the sticky substance was on your bedding and thighs, but you wouldn’t ever know for sure.

----

“I told you, Jake, I’m not okay with this. We can’t do it. This is wrong!” Marc was shouting from the headspace.

“Shut the fuck up, pendejo. We’ve tried it your way, now we do it my way.” Jake pried open your window slowly. “Sick of not being able to think straight.”

“Jake please, please, please let me out. Please.” Steven begged.

Jake was trying to keep Steven at bay, but he knew the other alter was going to get himself to the front one way or another.

“At least let me get us inside, then you can have the body.” Jake stopped before climbing indoors, “if you fuck this up for us…”

“Don’t worry bruv, m’not going to mess it up, promise.” Steven assured him.

Jake was inside within seconds, and the moment his feet touched the ground, Steven forced his way to the front. He was more than ready to finally show you the love they’d kept pent up all that time. He quickly, and silently, toed off Jake’s shoes, and pulled off the gloves too. If Jake wanted those, he could put them back on later. It was going to be a long night, and they intended to stay a while.

He took off the jacket as well and placed it on the floor. Steven loosened up the tie, allowing the fabric to hang lazily around his neck. You were so sound asleep, breathing deeply while you dreamt. Steven’s cock was already leaking a small spot into the seam of Jake’s pants in anticipation of feeling your pussy walls surrounding his cock. He took them off quickly, stepping out of them silently.

You turned in your sleep, but your eyes stayed closed. You were so pretty, so precious just laying there without a clue. Steven clutched his chest, finding it difficult to breathe properly. Despite the nearly painful ache of his erection, he took a moment just to revel in your beauty, taking in the breathtaking way the sheets hugged your curves. Your lips were pursed, brow furrowed while you dreamt.

So fucking pretty, he thought.

“Steven, if you’re gonna do it, then just get it over with,” Marc said in a grumble. While the original was deeply bothered by their actions, he knew stopping him was impossible.

Steven walked around to the other side of the bed, and grabbed the sheet. Cautiously, he got under the covers, careful not to shift the weight too much and startle you. If he alerted you too soon, it would all be over. Steven was, once again, grateful you were such a heavy sleeper. It had proven to be helpful for them each time they’d needed to traverse your apartment in the night.

He hooked a finger in the waist of your shorts and dragged them down to your thigh. There was a small shift in your body, but your breathing remained the same, steady pace. Your skin was softer than he’d imagined. Just the light drag of his finger over the surface made his body spark with excitement. He felt himself salivating. Steven wanted nothing more than to lick and kiss your exposed shoulder, but he held back for now.

Steven brought a mess of spit down to slick his cock. He bit his lip while he ran his fingers over the length of it. The thought that he was about to finally feel you from the inside almost made him want to scream. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive. He brought an arm to hover over your side carefully, and started sneaking the other under your head. He was ready to move quickly if you resisted, though he hoped you wouldn’t; he hoped that you would wake and realize how good Steven was fucking you and that you’d lean into it a little.

As Steven’s large hand closed over your lips, and his other arm caged your body against his, squeezing tightly, you stirred awake.

“Sh sh sh, love. Shhh.” He urged, holding on tight as your little body squirmed against his chest.

You immediately started to whimper, fighting and breathing heavily, trying desperately to break free, but Steven was too strong. You screamed uselessly into his fingers. You wiggled your rear against him, feeling the jab of his cock against you. It was hard to believe this was happening, this couldn’t be real. Someone had snuck into your apartment and was about to-

Steven pushed his cock between your thighs, rutting hungrily until he found your entrance. He stopped there, feeling the wet slick of your heat coating his throbbing girth.

“You ready, love? Been waiting for this a long time, been waiting to feel you.” His voice was low against your ear.

You shook your head as best as you could and tried screaming again, but no one would hear you. The feeling of his cock against your folds alone was enough to drive him crazy. The fact that you were so wet let Steven know just how eager you were for this too, you just didn’t realize it yet.

“Oh God, love, you feel so good already.” He felt your warm tears hitting his fingers. “Yeah, I’m excited too, just one…second…”

He let out a deep groaning sigh as he stretched you out, gliding his cock into your tight cunt.

“Oh that’s it, love, oh this is better than I dreamed. Can’t wait to finally fill you up darling, you’re going to like it so much. Gonna-you’re gonna-ohh-want to give you all of it.” He was pumping in and out of you slowly, struggling to form a coherent sentence in the process.

To say it felt good to him was an understatement. Steven’s hips stuttered as he pushed full to the hilt once more. He felt your walls flutter around him. He knew you liked it, too. He wondered why they hadn’t done it sooner.

“Oh my…shit…” He thrusted, splitting your hole wide over and over. “Those pretty little sounds you make, been think–oh fuck…been thinkin’ ‘bout them. Never thought they’d sound so-”

It hurt, being stretched out like that, never having felt anyone that big before. You were so afraid, unable to move your arms. The more you shifted against him, the harder he squeezed. It got to a point where you worried he might crush you if you continued. His lips pressed against your neck in sloppy wet kisses, and he kept groaning about how much he loved you in your ear.

“Feel you gettin’ so wet.” He let out a sharp exhale, “knew you’d like me darling, knew you’d be good f’me.”

Steven kissed your shoulder, nipping at the skin and savoring the way it tasted on his tongue. You were delicious in every sense of the word. He could feel you stop fighting him, and he took that as a sign of compliance, of submission. Steven knew deep down that you’d liked them, he knew it.

“Won’t hurt much longer, not once you’re used t’me. God you’re so pretty, feel so good. Can’t believe I’m finally touching you.” He started thrusting his hips harder, dragging the head along your walls. “Thank you love, thank you for being such a good girl f’me.”

You were hiccuping from sobbing so hard. Your cries only encouraged Steven though, he thought you sounded so sweet like that, so innocent and precious. When you felt the unmistakable wave taking over your body, the one that contradicted your emotional feelings, you gasped, pressing your spine against his chest. It felt good, so good that you thought you might cry harder should he stop.

“Doesn’t that feel good, love? You’re squeezing me so tight I…oh shit…not gonna last much longer if you keep that up, yeah?” Steven felt your walls contracting over him harder now, telling him you must be close. “Are you going to let yourself go for me?”

Steven’s movements were relentless. Your bed scraped against the floor a little as he fucked even harder. He started thinking about how much he wanted to keep you, have you around to pleasure himself with any time he started to feel the need. Surely you’d like that too, of course you’d love when Steven made you feel good…right? He would always make sure you got your release too, every time, so long as he could help it.

“I’m gonna make sure you feel good darling, want you to feel good.” He was getting close, pulling your body closer as his orgasm approached, “and you know when I’m done, Jake is gonna come in here and mark you up, yeah? Make sure you remember that you’re ours now.”

You panicked, realizing what that meant…he had a friend there too, also intent on taking you for himself. Your breathing became short, and you squirmed again. Steven’s cock thrust into you harder when you did.

“Sh, sh, love, shh, stop.” He didn’t want to hurt you. In fact, Steven wouldn’t hurt you, but he couldn’t speak for Jake. “I don’t want you to get hurt, yeah? Better stop that now.”

You let yourself fall limp, accepting your fate finally as his assault on your cunt continued. You really were wet now, pussy squelching every time the man rutted into you, hips pressing flush against your rear. Steven felt himself overwhelmed with pleasure as his orgasm approached.

He was talking so fast, "I'm not going to pull out love, want to make sure I show you how much I love you. Wanna get you nice and full of me–so full. Would you like that?” He groaned into your shoulder, “yeah, ‘course you would. Oh here we go–here we go love–ahhh!” His hips stopped suddenly, pressed up against your body while his cock pulsated hot ropes inside of you. “Thankyou--thankyou--thankyou love, oh God thank you.”

You couldn’t stop the wave that came over you, pooling heat in your center and forcing your body to tremble against him.

“That’s it love, can feel you coming, too. Oh you’re squeezing me so hard.”

You couldn’t believe you’d started coming so violently at the hands of your assailant, despite your best efforts not to. You couldn’t help the physical response your body had to him though. He made you so wet, made your body spark with need. He felt so good, he was so intent on making sure you felt something too.

The switch happened without your realizing, and suddenly Jake lay there while his cock grew soft inside of you. Steven was sated, finished with you for the time being. He knew that he had to get you into a different position, or you’d try to run. Being crafty as he was, Jake planned for that, and brought something along to keep you silent. A cloth doused in chloroform, pulled from his breast pocket, sure to keep you pliant. He covered your face in the cloth, and you tried to struggle again, but this time fell limp against your will.

It was an hour before you woke up again. Jake was standing in front of you. He had his arms crossed over his chest, shirt open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and gloves on. He was naked otherwise though. Your eyes seemed to sparkle as they opened slowly, meeting his hooded gaze. You tried to move, but your hands were tied to your bedpost. You opened your mouth to yell, but the man in front of you held up a finger.

“Here’s how this is going to go princesa...” He spoke just above a whisper.

Jake had a gun he’d placed on your dresser. He picked it up and cocked it in his hand. Of course it wasn’t loaded, he would never hurt you, but he needed you to behave. He smirked at the little hiccup you made at the sound of his weapon readying for fire. You noticed now, the distinct difference in his accent, this was someone else. The guy from before really did bring a friend with him.

“P-please I–”

“Sh.” Jake put a gloved finger to his lips once more. “I’m going to let you suck my cock sweetheart, and I know you’re going to do a great job. As long as you’re a good little girl for me, I won’t hurt you too bad when I’m done, alright? Maybe I’ll even let you come.”

“Why are you–why are you…” You sobbed, unable to speak the words on the tip of your tongue.

“Come on, no more talking,” He said in a low tone, “remember, if you’re good to me, I’ll be good to you, bebita.” Jake’s cock was leaking at the head, dripping onto the floor as he approached you. “If you want to misbehave, I’ll have to get rough, and I don’t wanna do that to you.”

You were so small, a petite little thing. You looked at his cock wide-eyed, fearing you wouldn’t be able to fit the whole thing in your mouth. It was big, thick and long. You gulped harshly, feeling terror wash over you even more. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt you, but what exactly did that mean? You were sure you didn’t want to find out.

Seeing you struggle to stretch your lips over his thick cock brought him more pleasure than he imagined it would. He couldn’t even get it all the way in your throat, but he didn’t need to, it felt so good without needing to go deeper. Your tongue splayed against the underside of his length made him thrust forward from the sensation, gagging you in the process. Your teeth grazed the shaft.

“Ay!” The cold barrel of the gun pressed against your temple forcing a gasping sob from you, “watch it, cariño.”

You did your best to get your lips over your teeth, even if only a little. Jake’s free hand rested on the back of your neck while he forced himself deeper. The feeling of your throat contracting over his cock made his head fall back. He groaned, voice sounding wrecked and feral with each plunge further into your throat.

It hurt, the way his girth threatened to stretch open your esophagus beyond its threshold. You whined, willing your lips to keep your mouth smooth for him, but you felt them struggling. For the second time, you touched his cock with your teeth, and for a second time, he winced and pressed his gun against your head even harder.

“Oh, I really don’t want to hurt you sweetheart, but I will.” His tone was dark and threatening.

“You better not hurt her Jake.” Steven said from the headspace.

You were a sobbing mess, so much that you pulled your head back off his thick and throbbing shaft. Saliva connected his cock to your glossy lips, and forced a sneer over his face. He knelt down on both knees, leaning in to meet your eye.

“Oh, princesa, you’re not very good at following directions, are you?” His smirk never faded, as though he were taunting you.

If you weren’t so cute with your swollen, glistening lips, and tear stained cheeks, he might feel less merciful. He was ready to see you come undone, after so much time spent waiting, only admiring you from a distance. Jake wanted to fuck you so hard your throat was bleeding from the shrill screams escaping your mouth.

“Don’t worry, we’ll teach you…another time.”

He grabbed your hip in his left hand and shifted your ass to rest between his thighs. The gun was still in his other hand, pressing against your waist, leaving an indent in your flesh. He could see how clearly afraid you were. Nothing looked more attractive to him than you being absolutely terrified of what he might do to you.

“Fight me, and you know what will happen, princesa. Don’t make me out to be the bad guy when all I’ve asked is for you to behave. Can you be good for me now?” He lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. “Hm?”

You nodded, “y-yes.”

You were too afraid to say no.

He thrust into you, and once again, the same body was fucking you open. Jake nearly fell forward, feeling you for the first time. It was like his cock was coated in smooth, silky velvet. This wasn’t the first time he’d been with a woman, but this was better than anything he’d ever felt before, because it was you.

“Fuck, princesa, you’re so tight.” He grunted through gritted teeth as he pulled back and then thrust forward again. He moved the gun to your chin, pressing it against your jaw harshly, “I want you to tell me how sorry you are for not following my very-simple-instructions.”

“Oh! No, please!” You rattled the bed, struggling against the silken tie Jake had used to bind your hands. “Please, no!”

Jake lost concentration when your cunt fluttered around him. It was almost as though you were enjoying his threats. He fucked into you harder, groaning out a slur of feral moans. He brought the barrel of the weapon down your abdomen and touched it over your clit. A sharp gasp escaped you at the icy sensation. You whimpered, feeling even more fresh tears trickling over your cheeks.

“I wanna hear you tell me how–fuck–how sorry you are, now!” His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and forceful.

An unmistakable, and to you shameful, moan left your lips. The way he moved the metal barrel against your cunt sparked pleasure through your core. He heard it, clear as day. He knew he’d break you, one way or another. There was still a long way to go before you were fully theirs, but this was a good first lesson. You were already starting to learn that he was capable of giving you what you needed, if only you did what he asked.

“S-sorry! I’m sor–oh god–so sorry!” You squeezed your eyes shut, “please don’t kill me, I’m sorry please.”

“Mm, buena niña.” He cooed, voice sounding wrecked with his growing arousal.

He reveled in the way your walls squeezed over him when he swirled the gun around your clit. He let out a snicker, lips curling at the sides. You felt your arms becoming sore from the pressure of the tie around your wrists, but the ache was dulled by the pleasure traveling all over your body.

“I want you to look at me, and say, ‘I’m sorry Jake,’ now.”

He looked down and spit harshly on the gun, letting the saliva trickle down over your clit, allowing the weapon to slide around it easier. Seeing you squirm under the feeling of his gun while it teased that swollen little nub made his cock throb inside of you. When he looked back up at you, you were looking back. He loved to see your bottom lip quivering while you tried to talk but fell short of the words.

“Come on, I know you can do it for me.” He urged gently.

You were ashamed to find yourself a stuttering mess trying to talk to him, not out of fear or for being upset, but because you felt so fucking good. Your mind was screaming, telling you to fight, to do anything other than lay there and take it, but your body was doing quite the opposite.

He knew the effect he was having on you. Jake could see the way your eyes fought not to roll back into your skull while pleasure overcame you; He could see the way your lips stammered over themselves trying to get the words he demanded out; Most of all, he felt the way the soft walls of your pussy moved in waves over his cock, reacting every time he slid the barrel of his gun over your clit.

“I-I…”

You didn’t want to say it, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Go on princesa…you don’t want me to pull this trigger now, do you?”

“I’m s-so sorry J-Jake!” You managed to choke out.

His cock unmistakably twitched inside of you at the sound of hearing you say those words.

“Mm, now was that so hard? You sound so good, bebita. I knew you could behave yourself for me.” He churned forward faster, the hand on your hip was nearly bruising. “Now you’re going to relax, and you’re gonna come for me, si? No fighting back now…”

“Please let me go!” You sobbed more, filling your apartment with more desperate cries.

Unfortunately for you, the sound of your whimpers only seemed to encourage him further. Jake looked down. Beneath the gun he could see the way your pussy looked splitting over his girth. It was so slick and puffy from the way he and Steven had fucked and resized you.

“I’m almost done sweetheart, and when I’m done, Marc is gonna come in and you’re gonna be a good girl for him too, right?”

No, not another one, you thought.

Out of fear that he might threaten you again though if you didn’t comply, you nodded. As you felt your orgasm threatening to wash over you, out of your control, you felt shame mix like a poisonous cocktail with the pleasure. You turned your head away, tucking it into your arm, trying to hide your humiliation.

Jake wasn’t going to have that though. He wanted to look at your beautiful face while he made your mind go numb and body tense around him. He wanted to see you as you became so fucked out you could hardly keep your body upright anymore. You were seconds from unraveling at his hand, and he wasn’t going to miss a single expression on your pretty face.

“Come on, princesa, don’t hide that from me now, gotta see how precious you look when I make you come undone.” He cooed, changing the way he rotated the barrel over you ever so slightly. “You know the stakes.”

You bit your bottom lip to stop it from shaking as you turned your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes were so dark, brows so tightly stuck together. He looked down to watch your hole swallow him again and again before turning back up to see your eyes.

It was happening to you again, you were coming over the cock of your second assailant that night. You did as you were told, keeping your eyes on his while you bit your lip a little too hard and clenched your walls around him. His lids dropped and his brows relaxed just before you felt the searing hot spurts of his spend filling you to the brim.

He fucked you through it, pushing it all into you, mixing it with what still remained of Steven inside you. Once he felt he was fully finished, having stretched and fucked you to his satisfaction, he pulled out. You felt empty, finally, but your cunt was gaping, letting his cum dribble out onto the hardwood floor beneath you.

“Now princesa…I want you to say ‘thank you, Jake’.” He wiped the glossy spit that had accumulated on his lips.

“T-thank you, J-Jake.” You sniffled, and closed your legs together as he sat back from you.

“You’re learning so well already. My smart bebita.” He looked genuinely proud of you, a spark lit in your gut against your will. You ignored it. “Marc is going to be here soon, and when he comes in, heh, he’s going to spoil you rotten. Just always remember that I’ve got my eye on you. Don’t turn into a little brat, okay?”

You nodded in understanding.

“Good.” He tossed the gun aside, forcing you to flinch. “I’m never going to do anything to really hurt you princesa, okay?”

You gulped and nodded, “yes.”

“Okay, just need you to sleep for a while, I’ll see you again soon.” He pressed his lips into a hard line while he wrapped his gloved hands around your petite throat.

“N-no what…!”

You squirmed while he choked you, feeling the desperation in your body while you struggled to get air in your lungs. Jake’s hands were so big around your delicate throat. Steven and Marc both were hollering at him to go easy on you, but they both knew that Jake knew what he was doing. That didn’t stop Marc from taking over and letting go of you immediately. You had already fainted, but that was ok, he needed time to get himself prepared to have you himself.

----

When your eyes finally fluttered open again, you were shocked to see the same man from before staring back at you. You were sure he’d mentioned a third person coming in to have their way with you, but here he was, still staring back.

“You’re awake, good.” Marc said, brows drawn together tightly with concern.

“I thought…I thought there was someone–s-someone else.” You were still fatigued from tears, and speaking was proving to be difficult.

“That was my…” He didn’t want to tell you about his condition just yet, “brother.”

You were sucking your bottom lip in with your sobbing. You turned your head into your arm which hurt beyond belief. Having your shoulders in that position for an extended period of time had proved excruciating.

Marc couldn’t believe they’d come this far. Steven and Jake had both had their turn, and now it was his, but he intended to do things a little differently. He wasn’t going to take from you, not yet anyway, but he was going to give you something. Marc wanted to make you love him, from deep within yourself, to make you feel the same way about him that he felt for you.

He knelt down at your side, you instinctively pulled your knees up to your chest, looking at him pleadingly. Your eyes darted behind him. The gun the other man had used was shining in the moonlight. You closed your eyes tightly, sending a couple of stray tears shooting down your cheeks. Marc reached over and swiped a tear away with his thumb, letting his hand rest on your face softly.

“If you’re good for me, I’ll be able to help you, okay baby?” He looked into your eyes with nothing but love and adoration.

You didn’t understand why they were doing this still, but something about this one made you feel more safe than the other two. You didn’t say a word, you didn’t even nod, you just wanted to be alone now, you felt so tired, so weak.

Marc thought he could see you soften, so he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, but you didn’t return the gesture. He put his lips together tightly as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours. He was trying so hard not to feel frustrated. It was going to take time to get you to understand what an asset he was going to be for you. Marc brushed your cheek as he looked between your glistening eyes.

“I can’t help you if you don’t behave.” He spoke firmly.

Marc could tell you still weren’t going to return his affections, but knew you’d learn with time. He thought that maybe if he could make you softer, more pliant in his hands, you might come around. His hand left your face, brushing over the soft skin of your neck - to which you winced from Jake’s earlier assault - tracing down your breasts and peaked nipple, and finally resting over the tightly closed apex of your thighs. You squeezed your legs together even more.

“Come on honey, let me in.” He said just over a whisper.

“P-please don’t.” You begged, hiccuping again as more sobs forced their way through you.

“I just want to find a way to make you feel good, will you let me do that? Please?”

You were prolonging the inevitable. He was going to find his way to your cunt whether you let him or not, so you decided to slowly open your legs. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and an unmistakable grin crept over his face. You were opening up for him, letting him bring his fingers down to rest between your lips. A small breath of arousal slipped out of you.

“How’s that?” He had a mildly arrogant tone. “That feel good?”

You groaned despite yourself, hating that they’d all managed to find a way to make you feel so fucking good. You felt nothing but shame for the way you arched up into his touch. The pads on his fingers spread out, splitting your slick folds. He touched your entrance, forcing a pained wince from you.

“Oh no baby, I’m sorry, they really stretched you out, didn’t they? Don’t worry, I’ll give your little hole a break alright?” Marc reached his free hand up to cup your cheek and keep your forehead on his. “I know you’ll make it up to me.”

Your clit was coated in your juices and theirs, making it easy for him to slide his digits in small, rhythmic circles over it. He could tell from the way you were squirming that he was doing it right. Your sobs stopped and instead you were just moaning quietly now. Your eyes closed, but he wanted to see them.

“Open your eyes for me, baby.”

You kept them closed tight.

“Please don’t make me beg, I need you to listen to what I tell you. I can give you what you need, and I can protect you, but I need you to be good for me, please.” He leaned in and tried kissing you again, but once more you denied him. “Come on, let me kiss you, don’t fight me.”

You were shocked at the juxtaposition between his demeanor and his brother’s. He was so gentle in the way he touched you, like his only goal was to make you feel good, as if his own pleasure was secondary to yours.

And for Marc it was. He knew that if all three of them were rough with you, they'd never get you to feel the same way about them as they did about you.

“Tell me how that feels baby, come on, use your words for me.”

“It f-feels-” You groaned deeply, angling your hips upward into his touch. “No, I don’t want this.” You shook your head, tucking your face into your arm opposite his face.

"Don't make this more difficult, I can make your time with us like a dream if you just give in to me." He continued to hope you would loosen a little, let yourself feel how he touched you. “Let me try something, okay?”

Marc kissed your cheek, slowly brushed his lips down your tender neck, left another on your collarbone, before cupping the swell of your breast and bringing your nipple to his mouth. His lips pursed around it. A small shudder quaked through your body, letting him know that what he did was working.

He couldn’t handle the ache any longer between his own legs. His cock was leaking profusely, and he needed to satisfy his own urges. He was going to keep his word though, he had no intention of penetrating you that night. Marc was able to brush his length along the soft skin of your thigh, making it slick with his precum and allowing it to slide easier.

He moaned over your nipple before flicking it with his tongue. You were churning your hips upward in rhythm with the repetitive swirl of his fingers. Marc couldn’t begin to express with words the way it made him feel to know you were using him to please yourself. He couldn’t have asked for a better outcome after their actions that night.

“Now tell me how it feels, please baby, tell me how well I take care of you.”

Marc didn’t stop dragging his cock over your leg, moaning incessantly while he did. You were crying again, feeling nothing but shame and fatigue while your third orgasm of the night approached. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of telling him how good he felt, but he wasn’t going to stop asking.

Marc looked up at you, brows raised and drawn together, pleading for you to tell him how he made you feel. Why was this one so different than the other two? The first one was so hungry, desperate and needy. The second was plain cruel. This one was so focused on you, wanting nothing more than to make sure you were okay; it was more confusing than anything.

“Let me go, please.” You begged, “p-please.”

“Can’t do that, don’t ask me that again, baby. I wish I could, but we’ve come too far now.” Marc brought himself back up to you, his hard cock rested against your abdomen now. It felt so heavy. “That’s why I’m trying to meet you halfway. I’ll take good care of you, but you have to be good for me, too.”

His face was close to yours again. You felt him churning against you, sliding his cock against your waist faster as his climax closed in. You could tell by the way it got harder, and swelled against you that he was desperately close. For the third time that night, you were close too, his fingers worked against you, forcing soft gasps from your lips.

“I’m gonna come for you honey, gonna cover you in it. You gonna cover me, too? Soak my hand in your-f-fuck.”

You felt something pool in your stomach, while he touched you. You couldn’t tell him that he made you feel good, but you could show him in the way he wanted. The thought of kissing him was repulsive, but if he was going to be your sole protector, then you needed to give him what he asked for. He was being so kind now, but you feared for what he might do if you didn’t give him his way.

You leaned in and slotted your mouth over his. Marc couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him. He could hear the other two muttering around in the headspace excitedly. Your lips were soft, delicious, and Marc wanted more. He slipped his tongue over your bottom lip before entangling it with yours in your mouth. His fingers worked faster, flicking over your clit while you were feeding him desperate cries.

He could tell immediately when you were coming because your entire body arched toward him, as though you wanted him to devour you whole. Your moans of deep pleasure were enough to inspire his own orgasm. His hips bucked forward harshly, rubbing over your skin while he coated your stomach and tits in his cum. He groaned with every thrust, and his body trembled when he slowed, eventually stilling altogether. His lips broke apart from yours with a soft smack. Marc’s eyes were deep and hooded while he looked into yours.

“Thank you for being so good for me, baby.” He pecked your forehead softly.

Marc knew they needed to knock you out again, and so he got up and started looking for the towel. The chloroform laced cloth would still work just fine. He would talk to Jake later about leaving such harsh bruises on you needlessly when he had the chance.

“What’s going to happen now?” You asked with a choked whimper, looking up at Marc.

“We’re going to take you home.” Marc said, kneeling down with the towel in hand. “Just take a deep breath, you’ll be alright, I promise.”

The last thing you saw before everything went black was his dark eyes on yours.

----

You felt your eyes burn with the sun piercing through your window. You took in a deep breath through your nostrils trying desperately to open them, wondering if everything that had happened last night was just a dream. It felt like you were in bed, warm blankets pulled up to your chin. Finally, your eyes came into focus and you took in your surroundings.

You sat up fast, realizing immediately that you weren’t home at all. In fact, you had no idea where you were. The room you found yourself in was clean with stark white walls and bedding, but the bars on the windows let you know that it wasn’t as nice as it first appeared. The door on the far end of the room buzzed before you heard an electronic latch open it.

He walked in, one of the three men who had had their way with you the night before. He gave you a soft and toothy grin. He put a hand up to greet you, he didn’t look as though he dared to come near the bed.

“Hi there, we haven’t met properly.” You noticed now that he looked nervous, though you couldn’t imagine why, he clearly had all the power in that moment. “I’m Steven. I thought I should introduce m’self. Figured since…well…since I came in behind you and all, you hadn’t really seen me yet.”

Except you had seen his face before. You’d seen it two other times that night. Once on Jake, and once more with the one named Marc. So this one was Steven. You’d been kidnapped by three brothers.

“Where am I?” You asked timidly, realizing that your throat still ached from the choking and stretching you’d endured earlier.

He walked toward you slowly. Already, you could see the nagging press of his cock against the seam of his pants. He looked at you like he was ready to devour you the moment he got his hands on you. Steven bit his lip.

“Darling…you’re home.”

----

Next Part (Coming Soon)

----

Thank you for the request @burnincrown!

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yunho-1999 · 1 year

Text

I Fucking Hate You

pairing: badboys¡minwon x fem¡reader

words: 9.3k+

summary: Wonwoo and Mingyu hate each other's guts, but when they discover you've been lying and keeping secrets from them they decide to punish you together. But even then they fight for dominance, making you choose. Who will you end up with?

genre: smut

warnings: mean¡wonwoo, slightly less mean¡mingyu, dom¡wonwoo, dom¡mingyu, cursing, hair pulling, slapping, choking, unprotected sex (don't risk it babes), creampie, angsty af, wonwoo's confused, physical fights, drooling, oral (male receiving), stereotypical representation of bad boys, manhandling (?), motorcycle go very fast, blood, wounds, and probably way more tbh

You couldn't help but stare, your gaze fixed on his neck tattoo, why the fuck was he so hot? Gosh. Jeon Wonwoo would drive you insane one day.

"What are you looking at?" A pair of strong hands landed on your waist, immediately freezing you in place. Kim Mingyu. That was definitely the worst timing for him to appear, now you couldn't ogle at Wonwoo.

"Hm? Me? Nowhere, I was just zoning out" you quickly turned around, making sure Jeon did not see you. It would cause too much trouble if he found you out in that position with Mingyu.

"Why can't I believe you?" He tilted his head, hand now gripping your jaw with strength.

You frowned at that, you hated the ungodly strength that Mingyu had. Because no matter how hard you tried you wouldn't be able to move a single hair.

"Why wouldn't you? Would I lie to you? Do you really think that?" you pouted at him, puppy eyes staring directly into his. Physical strength was his thing, but mental strength was yours. And you knew how to have everyone wrapped around your fingers. At least that's what you thought.

"Hm, I guess you were really zoning out then..." he squished your face a little more before letting go.

"Of course, I would never ever lie to you Mingyu~" you smiled at him, hand gripping onto his arm, slowly caressing the area, making the big boy smile.

"Anyways, I need you to come over this afternoon, I've been feeling really stressed lately, and you know..." his face moved closer, mouth ghosting the skin of your ear "... your pussy cures my stress everytime."

"I can't today" you swallowed hard while anxiously biting on your lower lip. You never denied Mingyu, but this afternoon you had plans already. With none other than Jeon Wonwoo himself.

"What?" He frowned his grip tighter, eyes burning into yours "What did you say?"

"I can't today Mingyu. I- I have a project that I need to finish, it's like really important and it's half of the grade" you put up your best innocent face, trying to convince him.

"Do it while I fuck you. It wouldn't be the first time you finish a project with my cock burried deep inside of you" That was indeed true, and your head was trying to think of another excuse.

"Well, this time it's different, I need to pay full attention. Because this subject is really hard. And I can't simply get a C like last time. I need at least an A" you could notice the obvious frustration radiating from his body, not only that, but the grip on you kept getting harsher. You just wished it wouldn't leave marks.

"You know I would never deny you" Unless Wonwoo is the reason of course "Because you know how much I love having you fuck me. But this time, only this one time I really can't Gyu. Please understand. We can do it tomorrow. Huh? How about that?" your hands moved to his chest drawing little circles.

"I fucking can't tomorrow Y/n." he pushed you away a little too much making you stumble, but you didn't fall down, you only looked at him with a pout.

"Why is it only when you want? I also have things to do Mingyu." you crossed your arms and he sighed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you when you finish this stupid project of yours"

And just like that he walked away making you roll your eyes. How could he be so selfish? It was always about him, and only him.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was really good at fucking you, you probably would have already cut ties with him. Also, it boosted your ego a lot, that none other than Kim Mingyu wanted you.

"What's got you so mad?" a deep voice laughed behind you, and you prayed to God that he didn't see Mingyu walk away from where you where.

"Hm? Nothing, I had an argument with a friend. But who cares, you're here now" you smiled at him while turning around.

"Is that so? Who would even want to fight you? You're so nice, aren't you baby?" his hand moved a strand of hair behind your ear a dumb smile on his face.

"Are you high again?" you asked noticing his giddy mood "When am I not high is the right question to ask baby" he chuckled leaning closer.

"Yeah, I'm stoned as fuuuck" he kissed the tip of your nose and you couldn't help but giggle "I can tell, your breath smells like shit" you joked.

"But you would still kiss me right?" He started leaning too close for your liking in a public space, but for your sake the bell rang "Not right now" you put your hand on his lips gaining a whine "On the other hand, after school, I'll think about it" you winked at him before walking away.

You quickly made your way to class, avoiding at all costs seeing the two boys. Fortunately they were from different grades, so you wouldn't be seeing them, and they shouldn't see each other eith-

"Fuck off!" "You fuck off! You fucking asshole" Wonwoo's hands immediately grabbed Mingyu's collar.

What was a simple collision in the hallway turned into an argument. But of course it did. Mingyu and Wonwoo couldn't stand each other's guts. That's why neither of them knew you were fucking the other. If they did the dead one would probably be you.

"You can't smoke indoors, did you know that? Or has the weed melted your brain cells? If you even had to begin with."

Without thinking much Wonwoo delivered a punch "You're not the one talking about fucking brain cells, you're dumber than an ostrich, and the bitches have like tiny fucking brains"

Mingyu punched back, before some teacher finally stepped in to stop this whole situation, sending both boys to the principals office.

"Y/n, y/n, y/n guess what we just witnessed?" Chan sat besides you excitedly a smile all across his face.

"Let me guess, Mingyu and Wonwoo were fighting. Again." "Bingo!" Vernon sat on your other side laughing when you let out a sigh.

"Are they okay?" Seungkwan frowned at your question from the seat in front of you "Why do you even care? Oh, no. Don't tell me. Y/n!"

"I know I know, 'you shouldn't do that it's gonna get you in trouble'" you mimicked seungkwan's voice.

"One, I do not sound like that-" "You do though" "Shut up! That's not the point Chan. The point is, if they ever find out, not only are they killing each other, they're gonna kill y/n, and I don't know about you, but I do not want my bestie dead. Not because of two jerks" he rolled his eyes.

"I hate to admit it, but Kwan is right... Is it really worth it?" Chan asked you and you hid your face behind your hands.

"Is it worth it?" you repeated to yourself "Two of the hottest dudes in this whole school want to fuck me, I would say that's pretty worth it, not gonna lie" you looked up just to meet their disappointed gazes "Oh come on! Don't look at me like that! It's not like I committed a crime..."

"Your body your choice, and it's your life, so you do you. But I would be careful. They're not good people, and you definitely deserve better" Vernon shrugged his shoulders.

"They're not as bad as you guys think... " you looked away, not handling the way they were staring at you. They were right, and you knew, but your pride was too big to admit that.

"If you say so..." Chan sighed before looking at the teacher, now paying attention to the class. Knowing that you weren't comfortable talking about this.

After a few more hours it was finally time to go home. You stood up as fast as you could, holding onto your backpack and waving goodbye to your friends before going out of the classroom.

You walked with all your speed to the entrance, to leave, but then a hand pulled you closer.

"We're going in my motorcycle." he sounded mad, very mad. And you noticed a little wound on his lip.

"Are you okay?" you asked worried your thumb caressing his hand. You've rarely seen him like that. As Wonwoo was typically more calm and collected than Mingyu. At least around you he was.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just that that fucking jerk Mingyu ruined my whole day. Could you believe he told me what to do? Him? Like who the fuck does he think he is. I want to ruin that fucking pretty boy face he has." you suddenly felt nervous at that, you didn't want him to fight with Mingyu. Not again.

They once had a very big fight, leaving both boys expelled and with pretty ugly bruises. And even scars. At least Mingyu had some.

"Fighting is never a good solution Wonu, last time you ended up really fucked up, and I don't want that" You also didn't want Mingyu to end up hurt.

"I'll be fine babe, don't worry about me. I can take care of myself" he sat you down on his motorcycle and then put on the helmet he carried around for you.

You held onto him with all your strength and he started to drive, quickly moving away from the area. From the distance you saw Mingyu walk away, pushing some people that where on his way.

"Get off" you heard Wonwoo's voice once he parked the vehicle, and you did just as he said, seeing that you were now in front of his apartment.

"Let's go" he held your hand once again, pulling you with him towards the inside of the building, making you sigh slightly. You hated when Wonwoo was in that mood. He usually was way different from Mingyu, unless he was mad at something. And today he was mad at Mingyu. Turning him into a short tempered person. Just like the tall boy.

"Wonu~" you went closer to him, your other hand on his shoulder massaging the area "relax, he's not here anymore. There's no need to be mad" he looked at you with a frown "I'm here with you. No one else. Are you gonna be mad at me?"

"Y/n I'm not in the mood for you to also tell me what the fuck to do or feel. If I wanna be mad. I will. Got it?" you sighed and looked away, nodding slightly.

"Use your words." he squeezed your hand "Yes Wonwoo, I got it"

"Great. Now get inside" he opened the door and you did as he said, seeing his roomate inside. Frowning at that, you thought that the both of you would be alone. Wasn't that the reason he took you there?

"Hi Y/n!" Seungcheol noticed you, approaching with a big smile. You really liked Cheol, he had graduated last year, and you couldn't help but miss him around school sometimes.

He was about to hug you when Wonwoo stepped in between the two, looking at his friend with the worst death glare you had ever seen.

"Go away." he said making the black haired boy scoff "Woah, what's gotten into you?" he poked his friend's chest, making Wonwoo even more mad than before.

"None of your business now move away." he pushed him with extreme force, making Seungcheol stumble and you looked at him with a pout. Scared that if you tried to talk to him Wonwoo would get even more mad.

Seungcheol looked at you in an apologetic way, he didn't know what happened to Wonwoo, but he knew that his anger would be unloaded on you. And that idea bothered him, but not enough to do something. He wouldn't admit it out loud but he was terrified of the younger male.

Soon you were pushed inside of Jeon's room, the familiar scent invading your senses. You smiled at that before the boy pinned you to the wall.

"Won-" "Shh. I don't want to hear you today. Just be a good girl for me yes?" you looked at him with a pout, and he frowned holding your cheeks, just like Mingyu had done a few hours prior.

"Don't look at me like that Y/n, I'm not in the mood. I know it's not your fault, that's why I'm trying really, really hard to keep myself calm. I don't want to yell at you" he looked at you, and you tried to be apprehensive about the situation.

Yeah, he was a little bit meaner than usual, but it was true that he didn't snap at you. He didn't blame you, or scream in your face like a mad man. Something that Mingyu would definitely do.

Your gaze turned into a softer one and Wonwoo leaned in, kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, filled with lust, and a little bit of blood from his wound.

You could tell he was trying to release his anger in some way. And fucking you would be the way without hurting anyone.

"Fuck" he pulled away from the kiss, his hands now on your shoulders pushing you to your knees. You knew exactly what to do, so without hesitating much you undid his belt, pushing down his pants and underwear at the same time.

He was already half hard so with a few more strokes of your hand he became fully erect.

You started giving little kitten licks to the tip, but the boy didn't have much patience to begin with so he held your head, pushing you to his length, gagging you with it.

You closed your eyes, both hands now placed in his thighs as a way to maintain balance and not fall down.

"You feel good baby. This is definitely what I needed" he kept fucking your mouth. His soft moans made their way to your ears and you smiled slightly.

Before cumming he pulled away "To the bed, quick."

You immediately went to the bed, taking of your skirt and panties on the process. Knowing that Wonwoo would probably just rip them, and you couldn't afford that happening.

You laid down, stomach facing the mattress, ass up in the air, and without much warning the boy pistoned into you.

"I swear to God" he didn't waste time moving as fast and hard as he could, making you bite into the bed sheets to not let out a sound.

"That fucking jerk" a hard thrust was delivered to you as well as a smack to your ass "I fucking hate him" another thrust "One day I'll rip his guts apart" and another.

Wonwoo was never this rough with you, but you couldn't help but like it. Enjoying the roughness, even if the boy was talking shit about your other fuck buddy.

"He's a stupid motherfucker that thinks he's the best, that he has everything he wants, that he owns the world" his grip onto your waist became stronger "well guess what, he doesn't have this pussy, I own this shit" he laughed before fucking into you even rougher.

That was like a cold bucket of water was dropped into you, you felt horrible for some kind of reason. Now regretting all the choices you had made in your life. But at the same time, you weren't dating neither of them. So why should you care? They only saw you as a fuck toy. Right?

That's what it was. It couldn't be anything else. Wonwoo probably said that because he was mad at Mingyu. Because he certainly did not own you.

Yes, you guys were fuck buddies for like a long time. But that didn't mean you belonged to him. Right?

Then why did you keep it a secret whenever you fucked another person? Why did Wonwoo get absolutely furious when he saw you with some other dude?

You never understood those things. He clearly told you he didn't want a relationship. But in reality what he didn't want was the compromise. He was not scared, he just didn't care enough to have a relationship with someone.

He absolutely despised sweet stuff, going on dates, holding hands in a romantic way, giving each other gifts in anniversaries, all of it. He couldn't stand it. It was too much work. It was bothersome for him.

It was much easier having you as a fuck buddy. Cause he didn't need to do shit. Whenever he pleased you would be right there for him to use you as he wanted. Without even complaining about it. You were a simple person, and he loved that.

What he did not love was the thought of other people doing this with you. For some reason he hated it with all his might. But that was probably because he was jealous and selfish in general. He didn't like other people using something he liked.

Fuck, did he like you?

He wasn't sure. To be honest he avoided thinking about it. He had made the mistake to tell you this would be nothing serious, and now, it was too late to regret it. He said what he said. And there was nothing to do about it.

"Wonu- argh wonu the- the door" you managed to speak through muffled moans.

Wonwoo was so deep into his own thoughts and with the task of fucking you that he didn't even realize when someone started knocking on the door.

"For fucks sake. I can't have one peaceful fucking day. ONE." he let go of you, resentfuly pulling away.

"What the fuck do you want?" He opened just a bit of the door, Seungcheol's awkward smile was the first thing he saw, making him roll his eyes.

"I don't want to be a party pooper, but hm, how do I tell you this... The lady that inspects the apartment is here. And well you know..." he said flailing his arms.

"You want me to stop fucking y/n" he deadpans "yeah that. I'm sorry..." Seungcheol looks like a sad puppy, like he did something so wrong his owner would disown him.

"I fucking hate this day. Nothing could be worse. I swear." he angrily closed the door, making Cheol and you flinch.

"Get dressed. I'll take you home." he started putting on his own clothes, trying to leave the place tidy before leaving. Because as much as he hated the situation, he didn't want Seungcheol and him getting kicked out.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered. You knew it wasn't your fault. But still you felt apologetic. "W-we can continue in my apartment if you want Wonu... I have no roommates and no one's coming over"

"Honestly I'm not even horny anymore y/n, just fucking furious" he signaled with his head for you to get moving after dressing up. And you did after fixing the bed.

"We can like, watch a movie or something. To help you calm down. Or maybe distract you from this situation" you looked at him with shiny eyes, hoping he would say yes.

"Honestly, anything is better than staying here. Because I would probably punch Cheol on the face" he sighed and then held your hand.

He walked as fast as he could, quickly leaving with you. Not even saying goodbye to Cheol or the lady that inevitably ruined his moment with you.

He took both of you to your apartment, seemingly more calm than before. At least that what you thought when you sat down next to him to watch the movie.

Half an hour passed, and everything was actually going fine. You and Wonwoo were enjoying the movie, but then, the doorbell rang.

You sighed and stood up going to see who it was, frowning when you saw your friends. Why were they here?

"Hi..." you answered when you opened the door. Seungkwan immediately pushed you out of the way entering your house, Vernon and Chan following along.

"Y/n you won't believe what we saw, Min-" you quickly opened your eyes pointing with your chin towards Wonwoo on the couch "oh... Not him" he rolled his eyes.

"What's he doing here?" Chan whispered to you approaching you from the side.

"What about me huh?!" Wonwoo immediately stood up. Walking towards where all of you were.

"N-nothing, they're just surprised you're here nothing else. Right guys?" you looked at them desperately.

"Actually no. I don't like that he's here y/n. We talked to you about this. For fucks sake" Seungkwan's eyes where fixated on your nervous ones.

"Oh you don't like me huh? I don't like you guys either. And today is not really my fucking day, so I suggest you shut the fuck up" he went even closer to Seungkwan.

Panicked you stood in front of your friend, looking up to the taller male. "Please don't fight..."

"Y/n I wouldn't have to fight if you listened to us. He's not good for you, can't you understand that? It's not that hard." he crossed his arms.

Wonwoo pushed you out of the way, this time not being careful making you fall down. And he delivered a punch to your friends face, his nose starting to bleed.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled holding onto the bruised area "fuck..." he backed away Vernon taking his place as Chan helped you get up.

"Are you fucking stupid dude? Jesus Christ..." Vernon mustered "That's why we don't like you at all. You aggressive piece of shit" Chan spoke up now.

"Guys please..." you whispered fighting the urge to cry, but it was impossible. Tears already rolling down your cheeks.

"Why do you keep defending him? He just punched me in my face!" Seungkwan looked at you, his eyes wide open, not believing the situation.

"I- I'm sorry" you covered your face sighing deeply.

"I'm fucking leaving" Wonwoo said and you held his arm "N-no, don't lea-" "Let go." he pulled his arm away from your grip and just left.

You let out a desperate cry before looking away from your friends. Too ashamed to even look at them in the eyes after that situation.

"I'm so sorry, I really am, I'm sorry" you kept mumbling to them until you felt a pair of arms surround you. Trying to make you calm down.

"It's fine" you heard Chan's soft voice from behind. It surprisingly helped a little.

"No, it's not fucking fine. Like for God's sake y/n, this can not keep happening. You need to stop seeing them. Specially Wonwoo." Seungkwan was now in front of you, arms crossed letting you see how angry he was. Not only that you could also spot a bruise starting to appear on his delicate face.

"Oh no, Seungkwan, I'm sorry, I didn't think he would do this to you, i- I don't know what happened, he was in a bad mood and I guess-"

"Stop trying to excuse him y/n" Vernon sighed now taking a stance next to his friend. "He's a jerk. That's it. Imagine if one day he punches you."

"He wouldn't do that..." you shook your head and then Chan placed his chin on your shoulder.

"You don't know that" he said before letting you go so he could go stand next to Vernon "and honestly I don't want to wait until it happens" he sighed.

"It's not that easy you know? You all keep saying to just leave them, stop seeing them. But it's not easy, not at all. They know where I live, they go to the same school we do, it's just, too complicated, I'm- I'm scared" both of your hands where placed on your temples while you closed your eyes. Stressed by just the though of Mingyu and Wonwoo going absolutely insane because out of nowhere you stopped talking to them.

"I know it's not easy. But you have us. We may not be the best in terms of size or strength, but we will still protect you, right?" Chan smiled brightly trying to ease the situation a bit.

"Yeah, of course. Like, no one, absolutely no one is hurting you." Vernon sounded extremely serious and you could tell he really meant it.

"And if I have to take another punch for you, I'll do it." Kwan held your hands with a soft smile.

You couldn't help but breakdown and start crying again because of that. You really didn't know what you did to deserve such good and loving friends like them.

"You guys are the best. Really. I love you so much. Thank you. And sorry..." you pouted before laughing gently at Seungkwan as he also started crying.

"You guys are such crybabies" Chan laughed before caressing both of your backs.

"So it's settled Y/n, tomorrow, no talking to those douches" Vernon poked your head gently.

You had never felt so nervous to go to school like today. Chan waited for you outside your house with Vernon so the three of you could go to school. As Seungkwan couldn't because he had a doctors appointment. It was also a way to make sure you would not talk to neither Mingyu or Wonwoo.

"I'm so fucking scared. Wonwoo called me yesterday, and I didn't answer so he messaged me like a lot. He's definitely going to try and talk to me today. I'm terrified" you sighed while walking, hands holding on tight to the straps of your backpack as if they would run away.

"He better stay away from you. If he doesn't I'll make sure he does. After yesterday I really want to beat the shit out of him. For real" Vernon frowned, he absolutely despised Wonwoo, and after the punch that Seungkwan received he hated him even more.

"Well, let's try to stay out of conflict" Chan looked at his friend worried and then at you with the same gaze.

"Yeah, let's just... ignore them..." you nodded to yourself, seeing the two boys agree with you.

After some minutes you guys finally arrived, feeling a bit weird. You looked around scared, like a bunny being chased by two big bad wolves.

To your despair you made eye contact with Mingyu by accident, making you look away immediately and cling onto both of your friends arms. Walking faster towards your class.

The taller male just frowned, why did you look at him like that? Were you scared of something? Of him? Curiosity started to build up in his gut. As well as anger. Why did you ignore him like that? He didn't do anything. So why were you so weird today?

Another one that was absolutely furious was Wonwoo. You completely ignored him yesterday. Yes, he didn't make the best decision, and yes, punching your best friend was a bit extreme. But still, he wanted to apologize and you ignored him. Making him lose his temper. Barely sleeping at night because of it.

He waited for you in your locker, and when you walked right by him completely looking away, not even going to the locker he just felt more angry. Is that how you were going to be? Childish. He thought to himself. As if he didn't do exactly the same whenever he got mad at Seungcheol.

But he wasn't going to give up. No way. He was going to talk to you. Even if you didn't want to.

His plan was to wait for you at the end of your last class, so when everyone was leaving he could hold onto you and take you with him to talk.

What he didn't know is that Mingyu had the exact same plan as him. And he wasn't planning to give up either.

The time passed and the classes weren't that bad. You had spent your whole day with your friends, having a good time, completely forgetting about the other two boys. A big mistake.

Wonwoo left early not caring if the teacher would say something, he needed to make sure he was outside your class for when you left. But as he got closer a familiar face was standing there. Resting against the wall, looking at his phone.

"What are you doing here?" he asked frowning displeased by who he saw there.

"None of your fucking business" the other muttered still not looking up from his phone.

"This is not your class. What the fuck are you doing here?" he insisted.

"I could say the same thing to you." he looked up making eye contact with Wonwoo.

"I'm just waiting for y/n" he wanted to brag about you to Mingyu, because as he told you he owned your pussy, and that was one of his biggest achievements.

"What a coincidence then, I'm waiting for her too." he frowned crossing his arms.

"Don't fuck with me Kim, what are you doing here?" he already wasn't in the best mood, and hearing Mingyu joke around just made him lose it even more.

"I'm not fucking with you Jeon. I'm here to talk to y/n" His face kept displaying a displeased expression. Not only that but his brain was starting to think too much, why the fuck was Jeon Wonwoo waiting for you?

"And why would you even do that? She doesn't even like you. If you think you have a chance with her, forget it." You had never told him you hated Mingyu, but he just assumed it. You HAD to hate him, after all the stories he had explained to you, and after the other day, you definitely had to absolutely hate him. Right?

"Doesn't even like me?" He started laughing ironically enjoying Wonwoo's confused facial expression "Oh please, that's not what she says when my dick is burried deep inside of her" he shrugged his shoulders triumphant. Did Wonwoo think he had a chance with you? How stupid.

"What? What the fuck did you just say?" Wonwoo couldn't believe what he just heard. He had to be fucking around. Just to mess with him and make him angrier. That had to be it. Mingyu was not fucking you. It couldn't be.

"I said that that's not what she says-"

"I heard you. But you can't possibly be telling the truth." He laughed in disbelief shaking his head.

"Well I am, and if you want to see some evidence, I have pictures" He unlocked his phone starting to look for his hidden photo album of you. Once he found it he showed it to Wonwoo, a big smile on his face.

It was you. To Wonwoo's dismay it was actually you. All naked, a trail of Mingyu's cum all over your abdomen. Messy. Just how the giant liked it.

For some reason Jeon felt speechless. He couldn't believe you were also fucking Mingyu. Like you were mere fuck buddies. But still. It was Kim Mingyu, the man he hated the most. His enemy. The guy he wanted to beat up at any given chance because he couldn't stand him at all. It was like betraying him. You betrayed him, and you needed to pay for it.

"She's been playing both of us." He let out a serious tone, his eyes now hooded as he felt nothing but anger.

"What?" the younger frowned confused, still not understanding the situation.

"She's been playing both of us Mingyu. She has been fucking both of us." He looked at the boy dead serious. Taking in all his different expressions.

At first he was frowning, utterly confused, then he looked like he was processing all of the information, and then his face completely changed. Into a stern one. He couldn't believe it either. That's why you canceled him yesterday, to go and fuck Wonwoo.

"Wow... I can't fucking believe it. No one, absolutely no one plays with me like that. No. One." he crossed his arms, and Wonwoo did the same.

"We have to do something. Has she been ignoring you too?"

"Yes." he was still in disbelief. How could you? Why would you? Knowing how bad it could end, why did you even take the risk?

But that was a question that not even you could answer.

"Let's go to her house. I have a spear key." Wonwoo turned around, starting to walk hoping the other boy would follow him. And to his surprise, he did.

Mingyu hated Wonwoo, and he didn't quite understand what was the plan, or why was he just letting Wonwoo decide, but he wanted to make you pay. For simply not telling him the truth, and also fucking with Wonwoo in his back. Out of everyone why did it have to be him? Were you stupid?

"Take this" the eldest gave him a motorcycle helmet "this is the fastest way

to get there" Jeon put on his own helmet before getting on it.

Mingyu rolled his eyes before putting the helmet on and getting on the motorcycle with Wonwoo. What was even happening. Was he really taking him to your house, or was he going to absolutely murder him.He had no clue.

When he saw your house he finally calmed down. The possibilities of Wonwoo killing him weren't low. But apparently not to high either.

They went inside as if it was their own home and Wonwoo left his jacket on the table, not caring about the pretty decoration that was on top. He had no time to do that.

"So... Why are we even here?" The taller one asked looking around confused.

"If she wants to fuck both of us, let's see how well she can handle it." He sat down on the couch, making himself comfortable.

"We're going to fuck her? The both of us? At the same time?" Mingyu pointed at himself and then at Wonwoo repeatedly.

"Yes Mingyu. Are you fucking stupid? Or do you just not listen?" The eldest rolled his eyes looking away.

"Why would- Why are you- just why...?" he frowned.

"To teach her a lesson, to make her pay for lying to both of us, to make sure she never does it again." He was completely serious, scaring the taller male.

"Well I'm sorry but I don't like sharing."

"And you think I do? I'm fucking annoyed by this whole situation. Because honestly if it was someone else I would be fine. Kind of. But you? Out of all, you? For fucks sake it's like asking for disaster to happen. I didn't think she would be this fucking dumb. Maybe fucking her stupid was not a good idea after all"

"At the end she'll choose."

"What?"

"We're going to fuck her at the same time, but at the end, she's going to have to choose one of us. Or neither."

"Deal. I'll win anyways." He let out a soft laugh.

"You wish."

You were kind of nervous when you left class but to your surprise, neither of the boys were waiting for you. That calmed down your nerves and made you smile happily. Maybe it was never that difficult after all.

Both of your friends took you home before leaving to their own, and as you opened your front door you spotted a familiar vehicle near your house. But that couldn't be his. No way. You shook your head, deciding to ignore it.

As you entered your house and closed the door the keys immediately fell to the floor and you couldn't help but start trembling out of fear.

Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu where inside your house, sitting in your couch, looking at you with a gaze you had only seen when they looked at each other.

"W-what- why- I'm sorry" that's all you could say. They knew everything. There was no time to act dumb.

"You're sorry? I'm not really sure about that." Wonwoo was the first to speak up standing up from the couch and approaching you.

"You lied to us. You tricked us. How could you? Are you that desperate for cock? Wasn't one enough for you? I didn't think you were such a whore" Mingyu was the one who spoke now, also walking towards you.

They where both in front of you now, as your back hit the front door. The handle poking your back from behind, it hurt.

"I'm sorry, I really am, it just- it got out of hand, and well you know... we are just fuck buddies right...? it- it shouldn't be a problem" you couldn't back away anymore. but you wished you could. Their intense gazes on you were too much to handle. Leaving you uncomfortable.

"If it wasn't a problem why did you lie huh? You told me yesterday you had a to do project. I didn't know your teacher assigned you to fuck Wonwoo" his hand held onto your waist, slamming you back on the door, the handle hitting you once again. Making you wince in pain.

"I- I'm sorry. But you have to understand. I-I couldn't just tell you guys... You would have end up killing each other or something" your desperate eyes kept looking at both of them.

"Who do you think we are? Murderers?" Wonwoo's hand went to your neck imitating Mingyu's action, but softer. Making you hit your head on the door.

You closed your eyes, already expecting the absolute worse. You fucked up big time. There was no way to get away from this. You weren't sure about what was in their mind, but you knew it couldn't be good.

"Eyes on me. Open." you heard that low voice that usually aroused you, but not this time. How could it? Two of the most dangerous people you knew where cornering you against a wall, their strong grip on you.

You opened your tear filled eyes, not being able to look at neither of them for too long. Your vision foggy from the tears blocking your vision.

"Poor little thing, terrified" Mingyu let out a laugh before pressing harder on your side.

"You know what they say y/n, if you play with fire, you'll get burned. And it hurts." Wonwoo applied more pressure to your neck, making you panic and hold onto his wrist. You didn't want to die. Not like this.

"On your knees." the eldest let go of your neck and pushed you by your shoulders to the ground. Knees hitting the wood with a loud thud accompanied by a whine from you.

"You know what to do." Mingyu said while looking down at you.

You cleared your eyes, wiping away the tears and looking up at them. So this was their plan. To fuck you.

Maybe it wasn't as bad as you had thought. At the end of the day they still had some consideration towards you, right?

Your hands quickly moved towards Wonwoo's pants, to you he was the scariest out of the two, so it was better to start with him first.

Wonwoo had a shit eating grin all over his face making Mingyu's groan annoyed. Oh well you started with the older, whatever. That didn't annoy him, of course not.

He was definitely not annoyed when he gripped your hair making you look at him dead in the eyes "you've got two hands. Use them." he said letting go.

You struggled an absurd amount time to open each of their belts and zippers with one hand, but you didn't have much of a choice. It was better to follow their introductions than to wait for the consequences. Even if they couldn't be really bad.

"Me first." Mingyu once again pulled your hair towards him, dick slamming softly onto your cheek.

"You wish" Wonwoo now also gripped your hair pulling you to him, making you stay between their two cocks.

You simply opened your mouth, tongue lolling out, letting them use your mouth as they wished.

"Rock, paper scissors" Mingyu muttered, and Wonwoo just looked at him confused.

"We'll decide things by that. It's the quickest and easiest way right now" he frowned determined.

"You're so childish, why do you even like him?" he rolled his eyes but agreed to the game nonetheless by pulling his hand out towards the big giant.

"rock..."

"paper..."

"scissors..."

"shoot!" both of them said revealing how Wonwoo won by throwing a rock at Mingyu's scissors.

"I go first. As expected, you can't even win a rock paper scissors match against me" Wonwoo laughed with a smug smile holding onto you head now, directing your mouth directly onto his dick.

"Watch it Jeon. I won't hesitate to punch you..." Mingyu frowned angrily gripping your head so you would at least touch him at the same time.

"Shut up." the eldest groaned as he fucked into your mouth, enjoying the sensation the back of your throat gave him. Especially when you gagged and looked at him with those pretty bambi eyes, begging him to pull out so you could breathe.

"It's my turn don't you think...?" Mingyu pouted while looking directly at you, he wanted attention. He begged for attention. A true attention seeker at all costs, mainly to you. He wanted your attention.

"No. I won. I decide. You wait." Wonwoo threw the boy a glare and went back to his task of using your throat as his fuck toy.

"I'm not a dog for you to be talking at me like that." he punched the older on the shoulder.

"You sure are annoying like one, fuck off" he punched him back on the same spot.

You tapped onto Wonwoo's thigh, and he couldn't help but look at you. Immediately knowing what you ment by your sweet understanding eyes.

'Don't fight' he knew that that's what you were trying to say, and he didn't want to fight either, but it was so hard when Mingyu was being a dick. In his point of view of course.

He just decided to ignore the boy beside him and keep thrusting until he felt satisfied enough.

Once he pulled out you didn't waste any time and decided to go for Mingyu's. He had been waiting for too long, you even felt bad. Your hand couldn't possibly feel as good as your mouth. You all knew.

That's why Wonwoo wanted to make Mingyu wait, because he deserved it. He hated him so much. And even if he was mad at you, he was always going to be angrier at Mingyu. For simply breathing. Existing even.

Mingyu was already a whimpering mess. having to wait for you to touch him was something that never happened. It was usually the other way around, he was the one that railed you up. Not letting you touch yourself as he teased you as much as he could.

"Hey, just because you're sucking his dick doesn't mean you don't have to touch me." Wonwoo slapped your cheek slightly and you moved your hand.

Immediately going to grip his cock and pump him.

But Mingyu wasn't having it. Your attention should be on him now.

He shoved his dick deeper making you choke on his length. He was slightly bigger and thicker than Wonwoo so you could barely breathe. Nose pressed against his lower stomach.

You soon let go of Wonwoo to place both your hands on Mingyu's thighs trying to pull away slightly, wanting to have some air in your lungs.

The taller had now a proud smile on his face, finally getting what he wanted.

But of course Wonwoo wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't lose to Mingyu.

His hand went in to pinch your nose, making sure you weren't breathing at all. Your eyes went to his a panicked look in your soft eyes, just as he wanted.

"You can take it. Can't you? Come on, keep sucking"

You closed your eyes and tried your best to keep on sucking Mingyu, you didn't have much of an option, his hands were gripping your hair and he was pushing your head towards him.

But you couldn't take it anymore, you were starting to feel dizzy like you could faint at any second.

One of your hands gripped Mingyu's thigh and the other tapped Wonwoo's wrist, and when he felt how weak your touch was he finally let go, pushing Mingyu's hands away so you could pull away and breathe.

You nearly collapsed on the floor, both hands keeping you up as you looked down, breathing heavily to recompose yourself. That was definitely intense, and it was only the beginning.

"Look up." you heard one of them say and you slowly did.

Mingyu nearly came by the look in your face. You looked absolutely fucked out, messy hair, red lips puffy and parted tongue slighty poking out so you could breathe, spit all over them, and your eyes. Oh your beautiful eyes, so innocent, looking at him like nothing had happened. So precious, so cute. God, he wanted to have you right there, ignore Wonwoo and just fuck you.

But he knew he couldn't. It was a competition. And he was very fair when it came to competing. Because he knew he had the abilities to win without cheating.

Wonwoo wasn't enduring it much better. You looked like an angel, there sitting on the floor while staring at him with those honey filled eyes. Gosh he wanted to have you all for himself so badly, to just take you to your room close the door and let Mingyu frustrated. But he wasn't going to do it. He wanted for you to choose him fairly. Because he knew that you would.

"On all fours baby, lead us to the room pretty" Wonwoo smiled, that smile that you absolutely adored, that made you all fuzzy inside.

"Weren't we supposed to punish her?" Mingyu asked crossing his arms looking at Wonwoo now.

"Yeah, what's your point??" Wonwoo asked confused.

"You just called her pretty, don't get me wrong, she absolutely is, but if she's being punished no cute nicknames should be allowed" he shrugged.

"Are you putting rules on how we should punish her? Jesus you're such a killjoy gosh" Wonwoo rolled his eyes "On all fours whore, come on walk." he pointed towards the hallway. "Happy now?" he glared at Mingyu.

"It feels more like a punishment now" He smiled following right behind you.

Both of them did once you started crawling towards your room, ass perked up letting them see your panties under your skirt. Might as well put on a show.

After entering your room the door was closed behind you and soon you felt Wonwoo's hand grip your hair pulling you up by it. You grimaced in pain and after you put on your best puppy eyes, maybe you could get them to forgive you, even just a little.

"Don't look at me like that. You know what you did, and you're getting what you deserve for it. Now climb on the bed and take off your clothes for us baby" he pushed you towards the bed.

You stumbled a little before getting on the bed. You went towards the middle and once you reached the spot you started undressing yourself.

You made eye contact with both of them while you threw the clothes around your room, putting on a show.

"Don't take the skirt off" Mingyu spoke up now "you know how much I love them on you" he smiled before approaching you.

Both of them slowly made their way towards you and you noticed they still had their shirts on, but you assumed it was another way of punishing you. Not letting you see or touch anything that wasn't their cock.

They climbed onto the bed and before doing anything Mingyu looked at Wonwoo, ready for another round of rock, paper scissors.

"Back door or front door?" Wonwoo asked.

"Back" Mingyu said without hesitation.

"You can have it. I want what's mine. This pussy" He gripped your legs and immediately pulled you towards him, now hovering over you.

"H-huh? Wait. Then I also want it! Come on rock paper scissors." he pushed Wonwoo, but the man wasn't having it.

"No. You said you wanted the back door. Now fuck off. Think before you speak next time, stupid motherfucker..." he glared at Mingyu before looking back at you.

"That's not fair" Mingyu mumbled angrily before moving and sitting against the bed headboard.

"Shut up, you're ruining the fucking mood by acting like a child. Gosh how do you handle this. Is he always this bitchy?" Wonwoo sighed tiredly.

"Kind of" you mumbled expecting Mingyu to not hear you.

"What the fuck do you mean by kind of?" He nearly spit out, anger growing inside of him.

"I'm sorry" you immediately mumbled sitting up, taking Wonwoo with you.

"You can't cum." The eldest warned before pulling you up and slamming into you without any other warning.

You moaned loudly holding onto his shoulders so you wouldn't fall down on the bed.

Mingyu didn't waste any more time and slid behind you, holding your waist before slowly pushing into your rim.

"Fuck" you managed to say while feeling how both of them filled you up.

It was new, but a good kind of new. You felt so full, so good. It was something you had never ever felt before, but you could definitely get used to it.

"No bad words. Pretty girls don't curse" Mingyu said after slapping your mouth.

"Pretty girls also don't lie and fuck your enemies behind their back, so I would say she's not a pretty girl. She's a whore. A cockslut that only thinks about fucking" Wonwoo muttered as his thrusts became harsher.

Both of them were going at a quick pace, you could feel them practically rearranging your guts. You could feel every inch, every vein, every angry touch against your waist. A grip so deadly that would definitely leave bruises.

They had no mercy at all, you didn't deserve it anyways. And you didn't want it. If punishment felt like this you would definitely misbehave more.

Their hands started wandering elsewhere, Wonwoo pinched your nipples while Mingyu slapped your ass harshly, leaving the red mark of his big hand there.

You were completely squeezed between them, enjoying the roughness of it all. They were usually pretty forceful and brute during sex, but this time it was extreme.

Wonwoo went to squeeze your neck smiling when you made eye contact with him, you could barely keep your eyes open as they kept rolling back from the sensation.

Your mouth was agape, letting out whimpers, moans, strangled words, and weird sounds you couldn't even decipher what they were.

It felt like your tongue was going numb, you couldn't even think about anything else that wasn't the two boys.

"Pretty little cock slut, look at her, all fucked out and dumb, my pretty dumb baby" Wonwoo smiled and let go of your neck.

"No. MY pretty dumb baby" he made a particular sharp thrust making you almost scream.

"Shut up. Mine." Wonwoo started sucking on your neck leaving a pretty mark there, proudly looking at it.

"No. Mine." Mingyu also reached for your neck, leaving a hickey right on the other side.

They looked at each other with hate filled gazed before continuing their job to fuck you stupid.

Even if you already were.

You wanted to come so bad, but you couldn't, you knew you couldn't. You didn't want to make things worse.

You held onto Wonwoo's shoulders tightly containing everything inside, making your insides squeeze both of them.

And to your fortune (and their misfortune) they came, shooting everything inside you. Every single drop.

You couldn't help but pant loudly, head resting back onto Mingyu's shoulder.

"That was amazing" he mumbled against your ear and you nodded.

"I hope you learned your lesson, because now, you'll have to choose" Wonwoo pulled out from you, admiring the way your hole pulsated while letting his cum out.

"w-what..?" you looked at him extremely confused.

Mingyu also pulled away now, coping Wonwoo while staring at your ass, clearly enjoying the view.

"Choose. Me or Mingyu."

"Wonwoo... I- I can't do that..." you shook your head looking down, bitting slightly onto your lower lip.

"Yes you can. Choose one y/n. Me or Mingyu."

You looked up now, just to see Mingyu sitting next to Wonwoo. And you couldn't help but look at both of them. You felt helpless. What were you supposed to do? Choose? Between them? No. You couldn't.

"I really can't Wonwoo... I-I'm sorry- but I just can't" you were so nervous not knowing what went inside Wonwoo's mind, but it was definitely something not good.

His face told you everything. He was disappointed. Disappointed because you didn't choose him like he thought you would. He thought it was an easy thought. That you would just blurt out his name without hesitation.

"Neither it is then." He stood up and you immediately held onto his wrist.

"No, Wonwoo please... Don't do this please... Don't make me choose, I don't want to lose neither of you please" tears started rolling down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, but we made kind of a deal... At the end you had to choose one of us or neither..." Mingyu muttered awkwardly while standing up.

"No. Why? I don't get it" you tried to chase after Wonwoo but you could barely stand up after what happened.

"It's a pride thing. We can't just share you... That would be the lowest of low. It was already torture to share you with him right now... If it wasn't because you feel so good I would have beat him already" Mingyu said while looking at Wonwoo.

"I guess love is really like sour grapes" Wonwoo muttered before heading out your room, he needed to get his pants and leave. Leave before he felt more like a piece of shit.

'Love?' you thought to yourself. Did Wonwoo love you...? No. That couldn't be. You guys were just fuck buddies. Then why did he say that, why did it hurt so fucking much. Gosh. You didn't even understand yourself.

"I'm sorry y/n... I guess this is the last time we're seeing each other. Goodbye" Mingyu looked away and walked towards the living room where his pants where.

With the little strength you had left you stood up and put on a hoodie, walking to the living room, seeing both boys there.

"Y/n it's not worth it. We made a deal. And a deal is a deal." Mingyu stated before finishing to zip up his pants.

Wonwoo looked at your direction and you couldn't stop crying, you couldn't even mutter a single word, you just didn't want them to leave. Not like this.

"P-p-please..." you whimpered while shaking your head.

"Goodbye" He said before heading out, both of them did. Leaving you all alone.

You were a crying mess, now kneeling down on the floor as you couldn't stop. You felt horrible, you couldn't forget Wonwoo's look and words. They didn't leave your head. Should you have chosen him? But Mingyu was so important to you too, you couldn't possibly do that. You didn't do it before. That's why you fucked both to begin with.

Wonwoo also felt miserable. If he had just told you the truth to begin with nothing of this would have happened. He was stupid. Stupid and lonely. A loser.

Mingyu also felt bad. Seeing you cry like that made him feel like a criminal that just killed your parents in front of your pure eyes. But he was a man of pride, and he always kept his word. He couldn't simply break it for you, not when he knew Wonwoo would probably punch him if he did. And he was definitely not the mood for another fight.

"Well, I guess this is over now... Neither of us won" The taller said before sighing heavily.

"I fucking hate you." those were Wonwoo's words before driving away in his motorcycle.

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uyuforu · 3 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/uyuforu/742760539006156801/hiii-i-wanted-to-know-which-part-of-my-natal

hello not my ask but could you do an example with jk chart? its ok if not i dont want to bother

hope you have good day

Jungkook's Style Evolution

Jungkook's style has been something very interesting to watch over the years. A Fashion style and the way dress always have an importance, at it reflects our personality, our tastes, our self, our mood but also our evolution as a being. And as we all know, JK's Fashion indeed changed over the years too. I thought it would be very interesting to take a look, and someone in the ask box asked me to do so. I wanted then to do a full analysis based on Natal Chart and Solar Returns. You can also check it and apply it to yourself! Please note that I couldn't put more than 30 images in this post, which was inconvenient in a way since I couldn't show more. I tried to take pictures that were a good representation of what JK wore every time. I also chose airport outfits since it is the most popular way to see about JK's fashion style and own fashion choices, other outfits were often chosen by stylists.

Techniques used: Natal Chart + Solar Returns

Placements used: Sun, Rising, Rising's ruler, 1H, MC, Venus, Venus's Ruler, Mars, Stellium for Natal Chart. Rising, Venus, Venus' Ruler, MC sometimes, Mars sometimes for Solar Returns.

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules

⋅˚₊ Jungkook's Natal Chart Indicators ₊˚ ⋅

₊˚⊹ Jungkook's Sun is Virgo, and it makes him prefer casual clothing. He also prefers sporty style, clothing you can wear outside and inside, and clothing that are comfortable to move in. Simple, nothing too extravagant. The clothing he often wear are so more comfortable and casual than actually looking luxurious. He often wear jeans too. Colors are also basic ones.

₊˚⊹ Jungkook's Rising sign is Capricorn. JK will look masculine, dominant and a little scary or just distant usually. It makes him so chose clothing that will make him appear older, or he will want to dress a certain way that makes him appear as an actual adult. It makes sense since JK always has been often babied his whole life, he chose a style that is dark, and chose to appear a way to makes sense with his Rising. He wants to tell people through his fashion sense and appearance that he is a grown up, a man, and mostly an adult. He doesn't want people to keep treating him like a baby or a child. He wants people to respect him when they see him. The ruler of the Rising sign is Saturn which is in Aries 3H. Aries here makes sense with his style, his tattoos and mostly that JK wants to have a lot of muscles and wants to look attractive physically, he often takes care of his body shape. The 3H is a Gemini house, rulling the arms and hands, and this is where JK has tattoos. Despite his actual look and desire to appear older, JK will still have that youthful look of his, but his fashion style will so be chosen for him to be treated like a man and not a boy.

₊˚⊹ JK's Venus sign is in Libra, and being its own ruler, JK has indeed a good fashion sense. He cares a lot about how he looks and how the clothings he chooses to wear suit him. He is part of the people who can't go out in clothing they don't like. It doesn't have to be the runway kind of fashion whenever he goes out, but he needs to wear what he likes. Even if his outfits seem most of the time casual and comfortable, it is in fact his style and his fashion sense, and he actually likes this style. It looks like he doesn't care while in fact he does. JK also has a lot of different accessories he wears daily. His Venus is in 9H, he has an appearance that doesn't fit the Korean standards, despite that many other Koreans have tattoos and piercings, it is not considered something well seen in the country. More because JK is an idol. He made a revolutionary move by having so much tattoos, showing them freely. Even with his style.

₊˚⊹ JK's Mars sign is in Scorpio, making a lot of sense with the way he dresses. He looks very good in black and dark clothing. He likes the pull off the "Bad Boy" style and it is actually a good idea since it goes well with his Mars sign. He is very attractive and sexier in this outfits, not because of the style itself, but because it goes well with the placement. Dressing according to its Venus style is important but Mars is also very important since it will make you look good and attractive in the eyes of others. JK before used to dress in a much more casual and comfy style like his Sun sign. It suited him well but ever since he started to dress along his Mars sign, you can see his self confidence is higher. Piercings, showing much more his body shape, dark & black clothing, excellent choices. He owns the mysterious and hot guy style. His Tattoos, despite being his personal choices, actually also goes well with his style.

₊˚⊹ JK's MC is Libra, which represents his reputation. JK has the reputation to have a good fashion sense, he explored different styles, yet he knows how to dress well. He is considered as one of the best members of BTS to dress for airport style for example. He also has a good way to dress usually, and always seems to appear very good looking wherever he goes. Whatever he pulls off will suit him.

₊˚⊹ JK has a 1H & 8H stellium, which makes sense since he always stated that his body and appearance mattered much to him. He is often seen working out, and taking care of his appearance. He wants to look good, he also likes to be praised for how he looks, fashion wise but also just also about his body shape. The 8H stellium is clearly a big indicators about how people see him. JK's Neptune 1H first indicate people see him in a way that is not 100% true, they desire him for how he looks, but not actually him as a person. Having a 8H stellium makes JK appear very desirable for most people. He looks hot, sexy, mysterious, just someone people are obsessed with.

⋅˚₊ Jungkook's Natal Chart Indicators ₊˚ ⋅

જ⁀➴ SRC 2015-2016

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was Gemini Rising. This made him dressed in many different colors, and style. He wasn't afraid to mix colors, and mostly was dressing in a more colorful and joyful way. It was also a year of self discovery fashion wise, as JK sometimes wore black, and sometimes colorful outfits. With the 20° (Scorpio), we can see how JK was very shy about his appearance, his body language in most pictures that year made it obvious he was shy. He may also dressed in a way that made him look normal, basic, not extra to make him stand out. Despite also being young that year (He was 2017 years old), his Gemini rising also makes him dresses in a "childlike" fashion style, meaning he dresses as people his age, or with clothing that made him appear younger.

₊˚⊹ Fashion this year was indeed very colorful for men, it was also a year with simple clothing: a jacket, a skinny jean, a simple t-shirt. And backpacks seemed to be also pretty popular, something JK was often wearing that year. Cargo pants were also an iconic fashion trend that year, and JK didn't miss it. This style was similar to the Skater Boy, often wearing beanies too, pretty popular for men and boys around that year.

₊˚⊹ This year's Venus was Leo 3H, again a Gemini placement. With Leo Venus, Fashion could have been really important for him this year, he may have cared a lot. Being in the 3H, it must have been a way to express himself, maybe expressed his mood of the day.

₊˚⊹ Venus' Ruler is the Sun, being in 4H. He may have wanted to dress very much like Korean's Fashion this year, following trends and not wanting to stand out in his own style much. The Scorpio degree on the Sun also make sense, JK didn't seem to be very confident in his appearance, he so didn't want people to notice him much in his fashion style. What he wore was very simple.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2016-2017

₊˚⊹ For this year, JK was Virgo Rising, his fashion style was clear, neat, he was always very well dressed, every accessories making a perfect sense. He started dressing with neutral colors such as Black, dark colors, white, beige, and also often wore Jeans. Very casual fashion style. The 5° on his rising sign makes him have a good fashion style, it's not only casual, you can see that JK has a big interest in Fashion this year. The way he dresses felt like it actually mattered to him. It also makes him in touch with trends and the fashion world, as the way JK dresses was very similar to the trends of that time, despite JK wearing a more "casual" look.

₊˚⊹ JK's 1H Stellium also explains how he got a glow up this year, his appearance really mattered this year to him. Moreover, the Sun is in there, making it really obvious how important it was. His Fashion style was part of his identity.

₊˚⊹ Venus was in Libra 2H this year, with also the ruler being in its home. It was very obvious JK was really into fashion this year, dressing very well. That year, JK wore a lot of skinny jeans, showing his tights and hips very much. He wore casual yet luxurious outfits, which is very logical to me since the venus is in a Taurus House but also with a Taurus degree.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2017-2018

₊˚⊹ The way I just laugh out loud when I saw his SRC this year. It is just so obvious. This is the year JK started to dress in black mostly, Black and White were his only go to Fashion Style. Even jeans were black. This can be easily explained with his Scorpio Rising this year. JK also often wore a leather Jacker, which is such a Scorpio thing to me. It gives me bad boy style tbh. I don't wanna sound cliché tho. With the Cancer degree on the rising, JK indeed followed fashion Trends from Korea this year, Black was seen often and was a popular color (if I can say color).

₊˚⊹ Venus is once again in Leo this year, in 9H. Fashion style could have been also inspired from foreign lands, where indeed leather jackets was a trend. Having more dark colors on their outfits was something that we could often see. Fashion was also very important this year. JK was indeed popular for his bad boy look he wore. The Libra degree on the Venus made him always have a proper look, always looking very well out and harmonious. Being in 9H makes sense since his Fashion look were often popular when he was at the airport.

₊˚⊹ The Ruler is the Sun in 10H, and the MC being in Leo makes a lot of sense to me. Around those years, JK's fashion sense became very popular and his fashion style was part of his good reputation. He was popular for his fashion sense, the way he wore, but also how his fashion made him appear. People were going crazy and often called JK "hot", "sexy", etc. Coming back to the Scorpio Rising, this can also be explained as to why. That made him indeed appear as sexy, hot, and mysterious. People were obsessed with his look. The MC being in an Aquarius degree makes a lot of sense, JK was very popular for his fashion and his appearance online from this year.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2018-2019

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was Aquarius rising. It was very interesting since to me having Aquarius rising makes us look very unique, avant-garde and maybe even following our own fashion style without caring much about trends. JK this year continued to wore black often. Most of his outfits were that colors. He was often wearing clothings the he liked, not caring much about fashion itself compared the the previous years. He was more into comfortable clothing this year than fashion itself.

₊˚⊹ Fashion this year was actually pretty colorful on the runways. Despite the clothing were also comfortable for men, fashion was still around skinny jeans, simple t-shirts, etc. So JK actually dressed different from most of the fashion trends this year. He was still into fashion, but maybe detached himself from the fashion trends and started to go on a self-journey. He was finally finding his own style.

₊˚⊹ Venus this year was in Libra 8H. The darker color, even just black makes sense since it is in the 8H. JK was seen more often hiding his face, letting his bangs being long, often wearing hats and caps that were almost hiding his face. Fashion was still part of him, and he dressed well according to his body type and his tastes. Moreover, MC this year was in Scorpio, which makes a lot go sense.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2019-2020

₊˚⊹ This year was a brand new beginning for JK as he started to get Tattoos, the first ones on his hands. Funny thing since this year, JK was Gemini rising. And Gemini rules also over the hands but also the arms, and JK also had some more tattoos later in 2020, on the arms.

₊˚⊹ This year, JK was so Gemini Rising with a 9°. Despite Black was still being his go to color, he was wearing clothings with different style. He was also known for his iconic hairstyle this year (the curly hair), that people created the Dora meme with. He was wearing a sporty casual style, with big clothing that made him look tiny. He could wear very casual and good outfits and the next time wear a very casual and sporty outfit. It seemed like he cared and other times he was just wanting to wear more comfortable clothing.

₊˚⊹ Venus this year is in Virgo 4H, his style was very casual, and very everyday style. It was a style which was comfortable and you could wear everyday. The Ruler is in the same sign and house, which adds to the fact JK really wanted it to be comfy and without any extra. He was also wearing a lot of oversized clothing this year again, which add more comfort.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2020-2021

₊˚⊹ For 2020, JK was Leo Rising with Aries degree. JK wasn't wearing much on his heads this year, often wanting to show up with different hairstyles. His Fashion was more "fashionable" than comfortable this year. He often expressed his own style and give more importance to his clothing style. Patterns appeared much more than last year. While JK was always wearing simple clothing before, he showed more patterns from this SRC.

₊˚⊹ The Venus was in Cancer 11H, JK was still wearing comfortable clothings. He was still on finding his own style as the way he was dressing wasn't that seen on the runway. He was using trends in the way he wanted to wear them. For example, the plaid pattern was seen often on runways this year, and JK also wear those, but in a more casual manner, in a more comfortable manner.

₊˚⊹ Since his Venus's ruler is the Moon, it is in Aquarius 6H, comfortable clothing, and preferring to wear his own style. I think it's over these years JK really imposed his own style. He knew he was into comfortable and casual clothing, but I feel like it's around the beginning of 2020's that his fashion style really became his.

જ⁀➴ SRC 2021-2022

₊˚⊹ This year is really iconic to me, it is the years JK's QG's photoshoot went out and it was viral. An icon. His Rising this year was Scorpio 8°, full Scorpio. If you want to know more about the photoshoot, I advise you to take a look because it's the best representation of this rising. This year JK looked mysterious, often once again wearing black and not much patterns. He sometimes wore some but not much. He was mostly in plain black and mostly showing much more his abs and body shapes with his clothing. He was full on the piercings and tattoos. It was truly the bad boy style this year, it also reminds me of the Hongdae Men lol.

₊˚⊹ His Venus was Libra 12H, and I remember that JK's shoes collection was wild this year, people were often posting and discussing about his shoes. Since Pisces/ 12H rules over the feet, it makes a lot of sense. Coming back, indeed JK's sense of fashion was wild, and he was often seen posing for photoshoots. His Leo MC makes a lot of sense.

₊˚⊹ His rising's rulers were Mars (11H) and Pluto (3H), JK's fashion was very popular online this year too, he was still in his own style and not caring much about most of trends, he was wearing what he wanted, and I almost want to say he was the creator of trends. He was versatile, going to comfy to luxurious style. He could pull everything off!

જ⁀➴ SRC 2022-2023

Didn't include 2023-2024 since JK is currently in Military.

₊˚⊹ This year JK was Capricorn Rising. His style was def more dominant. The way he appeared was always was very masculine too, showing much more his skin, abs, and body. Even in photoshoots, he wasn't just trying to show his fashion sense, it was also about the vibe he wanted to give to people. During this SRC, Seven went out and I suggest you to look at the photoshoot of the album... :) Saturn being the Rising's ruler, is in the 1H, making it obvious JK wanted to show a strong appearance, proving to people he is not a child anymore.

₊˚⊹ The Venus was in Leo 7H, JK was wearing a good fashion style still. It was still his iconic look but he looked very attractive because of his good style. JK's fashion this year was less sporty and comfy, it was more about the actual fashion. He was wearing jeans and casual attire yet it was similar to the SRC 2016-2017. His clothing and fashion were really well put together and accessories were often seen on him. Not only his piercings, but necklaces and beanies too.

₊˚⊹ Venus ruler is the Sun which is in 8H,JK had a mysterious, sexy and hot aura once again this year. He was showing more his body and even while working he chose a style that looked like that. He also started to do a photoshoot for Calvin Klein this year, which was iconic to me. It was the first time people were actually seeing JK's abs. The photoshoot shows JK's persona, as a dark bad boy (he loves that style). It actually suits the MC, his reputation was someone hot, sexy and mostly a man that was really desired.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

#uyuans #jk #astrology #bts #jungkook #kpop #jungkook astrology #bts astrology #jk astrology #astro #astrology fashion #kpop astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #jk fashion #jungkook fashion

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fatalattention · 1 year

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trigun guys with a plus sized reader ! ◡̈

vash, wolfwood, knives, livio & razlo, and legato !

i feel like there is a criminal lack of plus sized representation and i need that to change asap!

mentions of ; can be read as pre-established relationships or not, body insecurity, skipping meals, non-sexual touching (but you can definitely read it as sexual touching cause oh goodness gracious!!!!),

VASH ;

- vash has a preference for chubby people when looking for a romantic partner, chubby people always seem to catch his eyes first! he loves the way clothes hug you just right and make you look even more irresistible

- he loves everything about you. your strech marks and curves, and how your and him seem to fit together like puzzle pieces. he loves it when you wear revealing or tight clothes, it shows off your spectacular body AMAZINGLY and he has to hold himself back from doing some.. unholy things !

- your tummy makes such a great pillow after a long day of walking in the scorching desert

- if he hears you talking negatively about yourself he immediately jumps to the rescue. his hands coming up to rest on your sides, his thumbs caressing over your rolls and strech marks as he kisses you over and over, whispers of praise slipping through his lips between every kiss.

- vash has a habit of skipping meals whenever he’s upset, and if he sees you doing the same he feels his heart shatter for you. he offers to buy you ANY food you want, even if it’s from a place an hour away or he’s a little short on money. if you don’t want anything from any restaurants, he’ll offer to cook for you! even though he’s not the best cook, he can make a mean boxed mac and cheese!

NICHOLAS D. WOLFWOOD ;

- i have a personal headcanon that wolfwood has a dad bod! he has a cute little tummy that he can’t seem to shake, and he’s overall soft all around. (his thighs especially awwoooooogaaaa…)

- wolfwood thinks body fat is sexy as hell. unlike vash, he’s a bit more handsy and almost perverted (respectfully though. if you are ever uncomfortable with it he stops IMMEDIATELY.)

- he likes to pinch your sides, slap your ass, pinch at your rosy cheeks, and he constantly has an arm slung around your shoulders or waist. he physically cannot keep his hands off of you.

- when the gang gets a hotel for the night, you and wolfwood usually stay in the same room together. wolfwood loves watching you come out of the shower, towel wrapped around you, water beading down you in the most enticing way. wolfwood has to excuse himself for a while.. wink wink!

- wolfwood is extremely protective of you. if he hears ANYONE mention a backhanded comment on your body, he is throwing hands. he will absolutely destroy them, and he won’t even blink an eye. he’s so crazy for you, and he isn’t afraid to show that.

- if he catches you skipping meals or under feeding yourself, he gets protective again. he’ll give you a stern look, sit you down, and force you to eat. it isn’t the BEST way, but he isn’t good at emotions, especially sappy ones. he’ll do anything to see you eat, even if it makes him look desperate. (he is by the way.)

- he’ll offer to do anything for you to eat. he’ll offer to spoon feed you, offer you a distraction so you can eat without a worry, anything. nothing is too big of a request if it means you’ll eat and be healthy.

MILLIONS KNIVES ;

- knives does not care about your body shape, at all. he thinks all humans are pitiful, all of their shapes and sizes are irrelevant to him. (he is in love with you…)

- knives, a lot like his brother, especially likes chubby people. he doesn’t admit it, but you can tell.

- you can tell by the way he looks at you, the way his gaze lingers on you. one thing about you that he especially likes is your stretch marks. your marks remind him of his marks, and he undeniably really likes it. if you’ll allow it, he likes to run his fingers across your stretch marks.

- knives doesn’t understand human beauty standards. he doesn’t understand the dislike around stretch marks, cellulite, big thighs, a big tummy, etc etc. knives sees those things as irrelevant to him.

- knives isn’t a man who relies on actions to express himself, and if he catches you not eating he won’t confront you at all. you will, however notice more small snacks placed in your room on your nightstand. the snacks are always ones that you’re particularly fond of, some of them being your favorite. if he sees you eating them, you’ll notice a small smile playing on his lips.

LIVIO THE DOUBLE FANG ;

- LIVIO IS CHUBBY! HE’S A BIG BOY!!!!!! SZA WROTE THAT SONG ABOUT HIM AND HIM ONLY!!!!!!

- livio is a softie, he’s such a softie for you. just looking at you makes him weak in the knees and suddenly feeling really hot. he is smitten for you, everything about you. livio could care less about you being bigger, he loves you regardless of any physical traits!

- livio is very easily flustered around you, no matter what you’re wearing. you could wear a trashbag out to dinner, and livio will be on his knees worshipping you (as usual.) he doesn’t have any favorite clothes he likes to see you in, but his favorite thing is when you’re confident and comfortable. no matter what you wear, he will be a flustered mess, sputtering out flushed compliments as he looks everywhere but you because you’re so breathtaking.

- livio loves when you wear things that make you feel good! he thinks confident is the sexiest thing in the world, especially on you. livio is intimidating to people who don’t know him, so even if you wear the most revealing thing, nobody will say anything.

- if he notices you skipping meals, he comforts you in anyway that you need. he’ll hold you to his chest, rocking you back and forth. he lets you cry, scream, whatever you need to do to feel better. when you’re ready to eat, livio will eat with you. he’ll do anything to make sure you feel good, holding your hand, letting you sit with him on the couch, nothing is too big of a request for him (especially if it means seeing you happy.)

RAZLO THE TRI-PUNISHER OF DEATH ;

(there is such a criminal lack of razlo content. i am determined to fix this btw!!!!!)

- razlo is like wolfwood but he’s so much more perverted and extroverted with it, he finds you so undeniably sexy.

- razlo is definitely a thigh and ass man. he loves slapping and squeezing your ass (with your consent of course.), and he especially loves squeezing your thighs.

- seeing you in shorts drives this man fucking wild. he will be so distracted, eyes constantly drawn to your ass and thighs as he dumbly nods and mumbles in reply. good luck talking to him because it takes him a good few minutes to even register your words, and then a few extra words to even get his words out.

- if anyone comments on your body, razlo will beat the shit out of them. he literally doesn’t care, he will destroy them. no one shit talks you like that.

- if he notices you’re skipping meals or eating less, this is when his soft side really shows for the first time. he’s an emotional softie.

- he’ll run his hands up and down your body, but with no sexual intent (at that moment.) he takes his sweet time as he presses kisses to every spot on your body. he traces his fingers on your stretch marks, and all the while he’s mumbling out praises. they’re not over the top praises, but ones like “you’re so sexy”, etc. (he’s not a softie like vash)

LEGATO BLUESUMMERS ;

(im just gonna say, i didnt like legato until i read his backstory on the wiki and now im like really sad……)

- legato is canonically gluttonous which is kinda teehee (love me a man with a big appetite)

- he appreciates someone with a big appetite its really attractive to him. he especially loves if you love food as much as he does, and you get even more points if you can COOK. legato will be at the table with a fork and knife and napkin tucked into his shirt for your food TT

- legato genuinely loves your body. everything you wear is incredibly sexy to him, it makes him insane. he’s that meme where its like “wear whatever you want, i can fight.”

- legato is so genuinely mesn to people who shit talk you. he’ll gently guide you away and use his power things whatever to snap their BONES BRO!!!!

- he’s not an affectionate or sentimental guy at all. if he catches you not eating, he will ask you to cook for him. while you’re cooking, he’ll slyly make comments about how he’s “so excited to share a meal together”, implying he wants you to eat with him.

- if you’re still not eating, legato will be like “this tastes good. here, try some.” and bring a forkful to your lips. he will make sure you take a bite, and another, and another, until his plate is gone. even if he doesnt get to eat, seeing you healthy is like the sweetest dessert.

#trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #wolfwood x reader #millions knives x reader #livio x reader #razlo x reader #legato x reader

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chiliyue-archived · 10 months

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Joie De Vivre

↬ domestic morning blurb thing

Includes; Dazai

Entry; 🥞 - lazy Sunday morning

Tags; lovesick Dazai !! im it's #1 fan

[Event Navi | M.list] | [Bsd M.list] ♡

Sleepy brown eyes settled over you; glazed in a warmth unmatched to the sunlight that bid its welcome through the windows crevas. Unbeknownst to you, a placid candor became graced upon Dazai's features, cheeks stretching the further he indulged in his shameless stupor.

The leaking golds of sun cascaded over your figure, light dust particles meandering around. It was akin to the stirring that became pervasive in his chest, heightened by the snores and light murmuring you emmited. Its tone was mellifluous to his ears even when laced in a raspy undertone or simply muttering puerile phrases.

The scene felt entirely picturesque and it was astonishing even now for the burnette to be bestowed with an interlude as addicting as this.

" Belladonna~"

A pair of bandaged limbs and abrasive fingertips curved along your arm, random circles and patterns traced— the wake of his touch diffused a tincture of sentiments left unspoken on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were more than telling, however, the dilation showcasing his keen attention to you even during such leisurely hours.

His gaze would ultimately softened admist your presence, and it was almost hard to believe he was the object of manys affections and a flirt; internally, he had always became stupefied, hearts aglow where his pupils should be when it came to you.

Inquiry over his devotion never dwindled too long - the answer was evident in his ministrations and physical stature. For someone who exhibits lax behavior, he notably straightens and beams a pair of pearly whites when he catches your silhouette. His stride is all but eager, smothering you a deluge of affections that did nothing to satiate his ardor.

Exultation always felt like a brevity to Dazai and yet it seemed universal when you were just within arms reach. Even in the rare taciturnity of passing moments, it was deterred by the grin pasted on him that gave way to his festering emotions. He always regarded himself as a reserved individual, and yet it was nearly painful how his emotions threatened to seep into his demaneor at this moment.

As though feeling his intense lingering gaze, you peeked an eye open, greeted by the benign other. He could feel his pulse hasten, momentarily lapsing from his meticulous control as you fluttered your eyes at him.

" Good morning, 'Samu."

The corner of his eyes wrinkled almost by impulse, empathized by a wave so strong, he struggled to contain himself. A dainty finger reached out to mindlessly trail around your face, curling your bangs and strands around the digit. Meanwhile, his eyes trailed south to your hand, and he couldn't stop the pronounced twitch that made his lips arcuate.

A ring. A gift only appropriate for you.

The small metallic band rested on your finger, its prescence accentuated wordlessly. Its resplendent surface gleamed and reflected against the intruding rays, meeting his awestruck gaze. It almost fascinated him how a small jewel could betoken the significance of his purdurable cherishes. And just looking at it made him feel more alive.

His own finger mirrored a similar piece, but he was far more beguile seeing it on your finger - knowing he was responsible for placing the object into its proper orientation.

He was thoroughly devoted to you even when he struggled to voice it outloud. But the inability became increasingly marred and exposed a vulnerability only evident to your eyes.

Then again, the depth of his emotions were abundant and the jewel was just a testament of that ceaseless infatuation. Not enough orchestrating, sweet nothings or offerings can properly allude to the accumulation that harbors within his previously wilted chest cavity.

Consider him captivated, entranced, bewitched - through and through wrapped around the finger that housed the representation of his joie de virvre.

Dazai's grin remained intact as his thumb continued to work along the edges of your face - the veracity behind the lineaments palpable.

" Good morning, my love."

A/n; srry for 2 dazai in a row, the brainrot was too powerful 😒 I hope this isn't too ooc...

Joie de vivre means - joy of living btw !!

I believe in lovesick dazai and rings have been stuck in my head all night. I wrote this before going to sleep hueueue

Taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @himebwrries

^ if you want to be added let me knowww

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #dazai fluff #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #dazai x you #dazai imagines #bsd scenarios #page from auroras notebook

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snarky-art · 2 months

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I swear I dont wanna be mean but why does everyone keep making stella fat. Why is it that the most attractive character, whom everyone finds beautiful inside the show, is the one who is always turned fat. Like... No one would find her attractive if her canon design was like that. I promise im not being mean but I feel like the artists are always projecting themselves onto Stella and wanting to be loved like she is, cause usually the ones making her fat are fat too, like I saw your selfies and you're a bit curvy. I promise im not being mean im just curious.

For starters, send me more fat Stella’s if you can I haven’t seen that many made and would love to see more varied takes on her appearances in redesigns.

Secondly, I made her fat because I think it’s nice to have the character that’s canonically considered to be the most beautiful girl in all of magix, a fashion icon in the magical dimension, a very celebrated trendsetter, be something other than the stereotypical concept of socially acceptable fashion tropes. She isn’t an hourglass, she has cellulite and stretch marks, she’s super pear shaped, and that can be and should be considered something to be normal, since they are, and shouldn’t be seen as things that need to be hidden. Having that put on a loud and proud fashion girly seems good imo and it can only really contribute to good stuff for body image stuff and representation. I did it so people like you could reconsider that beauty is something that comes in multiple forms and shouldn’t have to fit one type of standard. If we wanna get super technical too those standards also very from culture to culture and I image that’s extended even further in Winx club.

The girls are all aliens from different worlds. There’s bug people. There’s a lady in the miss magix episode that has tentacle hair, a blue body, and tentacle hands and feet. I highly doubt beauty standards in canon would be the same as what you’re saying, ie that no one would consider her beautiful. As if people who look like her irl also would inherently be considered not beautiful too. I know lots of people who have people that think they’re the hottest thing ever and they have all sorts of different body types and traits. Lets just call it realism lol

I’m not really projecting any of my physical stuff on her also, outside of I guess stretch marks and cellulite?? But I put those on other characters too so I don’t really think that holds up. I actually put my old body type on Flora since she’s my favorite, but now I’m way more midsized, like a slightly thinner Bloom from my stuff (love this unit of measurement gonna start using the gorls as a reference point for my appearance going forward lol). I’ve always had the “socially acceptable” fat type of body, ie hourglass with even proportions and a super snatched waist. I just think it’s tired and trite to constantly reenforce the idea that “the hot fashion one” needs to be tall and thin all the time, and if she is made fatter, that she needs to look like I did ie not much of a tummy with super equal proportions, big boobs, and a big ass.

Kinda related to that also, I made a post about a lot of character design “rules” too that I think are kinda outdated and annoying, at least to me, since I’ve seen them a million times. We all have. So I decided to do something different that I think would be good for normalizing traits outside of what we consider typically acceptable for that kind of character.

I’m already very loved also and don’t need to project anything on Stella lmaooo

I got multiple partners, great friends, do modeling, and am slaying with my own fashion and appearance stuff outside of that too. That’s all independent of whatever I’m doing with her physical body type when I draw her.

Gonna level with you also, you going “I’m not trying to be mean” doesn’t erase how weird this ask is. Sounds like you have your own gripes that you need to work through. Like, if you consider those traits on Stella ugly, that means you definitely have some internalized hatred for fatness, skin blemishes, scarring, and other peoples’ general appearances if they don’t fit some specific molds that aren’t realistic for the majority of people. Even if it is just genuine curiosity, being aware of this stuff going forwards and reevaluating how you view beauty standards and bodies in general would do you a great benefit imo.

Thanks for going through my old selfies tho it was pretty weird of you but at least make sure to leave a like on them. I looked hot when I was fatter and I look hot now too sharing this with the world is the least I can do💕✨💕✨

#winx club #winx #asks #normalize other body types being considered hot because that’s just how it is irl too outside of what magazines and movies might tell you #people fall in love with all kinds of people or think all sorts of people that aren’t models are hot #and they’ve got bodies like hers #it’s just realistic if you wanna get technical lol

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cherrycola27 · 4 months

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

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Chapter 17: Something Just Like This

Space. A place in this world to call your own. It's something you had always wanted—something you craved.

For a while, you had that here in your apartment with Hydra and Cerberus, and now Bradley. And you had loved the space you shared with them. Until she came along and contaminated it. Your home, the place that was supposed to be your safe space, had been desecrated.

Maybe that's why, when you woke up in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, with Bradley still fast asleep, you found yourself scrolling through real estate sights looking at houses. You hadn't lived in an actual house on earth, ever.

The thought of having one never crossed your mind. Buying a house meant staying somewhere. It was a physical representation of permanence. Something you never had before.

But now, with Bradley, your husband, you wanted a place for the two of you. A place to raise your future family because you were done running. You'd found your place in this world.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfect house. It was a four bedroom colonial. Two stories, fenced in backyard, and a large front porch. It had a pool, which you weren't thrilled about, but you knew Bradley would love.

It was in a quiet neighborhood in Coronado. The house had hardwood floors throughout, and the listing said it had been newly remodeled, which was evident in the pictures.

The outside had beautiful landscaping, which complimented the lime-washed brick of the exterior. The only drawback was the price. For most, it would deter them, but for you, who'd spent over a thousand years saving and investing on earth, it was a drop in the bucket.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you filled in your information to set up a meeting to tour the house at ten in the morning. You didn't want to tell Bradley because it's not something the two of you had talked about, but it felt so right.

So, in the morning, you told him you had some errands to run and a surprise for him when you returned.

When you came back home around two that afternoon, you were giddy with excitement. "Love, pack a bag." You announced to Bradley as you came through the door.

"For?" He asked you with a raised eyebrow.

"For Virginia Beach. I figured we might as well take advantage of this time off that we have. I know you've been wanting to go home for a bit, and I'd love to see where you grew up. So, I made a few calls, worked out a few things, and I booked us two first class tickets. Our flight leaves at five. You announce proudly as you go to your bedroom and pull out some suitcases and start packing.

"Woah, babe, slow down. What about Hyrda and Cerberus?" Bradley asks as you toss clothes at him.

"Penny agreed to pet sit for us." You tell him.

"Well, what about a place to stay? I normally stay with my aunt, but I can't just spring this on her." Bradley asks you concerned.

"Bradley, it wounds me that you don't have faith in me." You mock him as you turn around to face him for the first time. "I got us a hotel. Everything is taken care of. Now start packing!" You scold him as you return to your suitcase.

Bradley exhales, knowing that it's fruitless to argue with you. So, he relents and starts packing alongside you.

An hour and a half later, the two of you are being dropped off at the airport. You decided to Uber rather than leave either of your vehicles there.

The moment you get your bags out, a young man greets both of you. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. I can take your things for you, and then you can follow me to the lounge."

Bradley looks a little surprised but hands your luggage over. The two of you follow the steward to the first class lounge and take a seat before getting a drink.

Bradley looks around as he settles into the plush chair with a glass of expensive scotch. "This is something else." He remarks. "Have you never flown first class?" You ask him.

"Never. When I fly commercial, I always try to upgrade to business because I'm too big to fit comfortably in economy." He shrugs his shoulders and continues to look around.

"You know, I sometimes forget that you're like, wealthy from being around so long. But then you buy me fancy watches and first-class plane tickets and I remember." Bradley chuckles.

"Bradley, Love." You lean forward in your chair. "I'm not wealthy. We are wealthy. You're my husband. For better or worse, what's mine is yours." You remind him.

"If you say so—still—it's a lot to take in." He sighs as he checks the time on his aforementioned expensive watch that you bought him.

A little while later, the two of you are on the plane tucked into your first class suite with all the bells and whistles, complete with lie-flat seats and a door.

Bradley is engrossed in finding out what all the buttons do when a flight attendant comes by with two glasses of champagne as you wait for take off.

"We didn't order these." Bradley says, but you pat his shoulder and chuckle. "They are complimentary. Perks of first class." You smile at him before grabbing the glasses and toasting. Minutes later, a dinner menu appears, and Bradley marvels at all of the choices, unable to decide.

You lean back in your chair and watch him over the rim of your glass. He's like a kid in a candy store. It warms your heart that you are able to give him all of this. You thought maybe completing your quest for worthiness was your purpose in life, but looking at your husband, you realize loving him is your true purpose.

The roughly six hour flight goes smoothly. After dinner, your suite is converted to a bed so you and Bradley can get some sleep. However, the two of you decide that joining the mile-high club was a better idea. You came with Bradley's hand firmly covering your mouth and his chest pressed against your back with him whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear about how you were such a good girl for him.

By the time the two of you made it to your hotel late that evening, you were both thoroughly exhausted. You took a quick shower together before curling up to get some much needed sleep before meeting his family tomorrow.

....................

You woke up the next day extremely nervous.

Today, you would meet Carole's sister, Bradley's Aunt Marsha, her husband Tom, and their three children.

While the two of you were getting dressed, Bradley could sense that you were worried. The entire drive there in your rental car, he assured you that they would love you, and everything would be fine.

You felt nauseous as he pulled into their driveway. His aunt and uncle had a lovely home, and Bradley told you that they were great people, but this was all new to you.

You held his hand tightly as you climbed the couple of steps that led to the front door. Bradley rang the doorbell, and the two of you patiently waited for someone to answer. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze just before the door opened, and a lovely middle-aged woman with short blonde hair opened the door.

"Oh my goodness! Bradley! What are you doing here?!" The woman, who you knew had to be his aunt because she looked just like Carole, exclaimed as she pulled him in for a hug before cupping his face. She hadn't noticed you yet.

"Hey, Aunt Marsha! I had a few days off, so I thought I would fly out here and surprise you. I also wanted to introduce you to someone." Bradley said as you pulled you closer to him. "Y/N, this is my Aunt Marsha. Aunt Marsha, this is Y/N, my wife." Bradley smiled.

Bradley's aunt stood there silently for a moment before a wide grin spread across her face. You turned her head over her shoulder and called into her home. "Tom, Conner, Alyssa, Maddie, meet me in the living room. Bradley is here, and he brought his wife!"

Marsha ushers the two of you inside and directs you to her living room, where you sit down on the sofa.

"Marsha, what are you going on about?" And older gentleman, whom you assume is her husband, comes into room holding a cup of coffee before stopping in his tracks when he spies you and Bradley sitting on couch. You aren't sure what to do, so you shyly wave at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Bradley's cousin burst into the room. "Mom, what do you mean Bradley brought his—" a tall boy who has blonde curls similar to Bradley's stops short when he sees the two of you. "—Wife." He finishes in a choked tone. The two girls stand there silently, each mirroring their father's shocked expression with wide eyes and mouthed slightly agape.

Marsha stands up and scolds her husband and children. "Don't just stand there, introduce yourselves!"

All at once, the four of them move toward you. You and Bradley both stand up, and you shake hands with his Uncle Tom and his cousins Conner, Alyssa, and Maddie. You a sit back down, and there is an awkward silence in the room.

"Well, Y/N, tell us about yourself, honey." Bradley's aunt breaks the silence as she brings in cups of coffee for all of you. You take the mug and take a deep breath.

"Well, I'm a pilot like Bradley is, I'm originally from North Carolina. I'm thrity-one. I'm Greek. I have a dog and a cat, my rank is Commander, I graduated from the Naval Academy, and my parents passed away when I was nineteen. Oh, and my call sign is Hades." You say, telling them what you'd practiced on the drive over here.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear about your folks." Marsha says. "It's fine, Mrs. Edwards." You shrug your shoulders. Bradley's aunt shakes her head.

"Mrs. Edwards is my mother in law. I'm Marsha or Aunt Marsha, whichever you prefer. We are family now." She smiles at you coming to sit by you on the couch and resting her hands over yours.

"Aren't you just the most beautiful woman. If there's one thing those Bradshaw boys can do, it's pick a beautiful wife. My goodness Bradley, she is gorgeous." Marsha compliments you. "Thank you." You smile back at her. "And she went to the Academy and is a Commander. That means she outrank you, doesn't it?" Marsha asks him.

"She sure does." Bradley chuckles. "Beautiful and smart. No wonder you couldn't stop talking about her when you came out to Maddie's graduation!" Marsha laughs, and Bradley blushes. You turn to him a quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh, honey, you should have heard him. He wouldn't stop talking about you!" Aunt Marsha says. "So, tell me the story, how did you two meet and all that jazz?" She asks you.

"Bradley was assigned to be my wingman, and we became friends and found out by accident that we were neighbors. We kind of danced around the fact that we liked each other for a while until Bradley asked me out on a date on my birthday. We went out the next day. Dinner and the boardwalk amusement park. He won me a stuffed shark!" You cheer as you tell them.

"Then Bradley got hurt, and I convinced him to move in with me, and last week, he proposed, and we eloped on the beach." You say, leaving out some of the more supernatural details before showing her your ring.

"This was your mother's ring, wasn't it?" Marsha asks with a few tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes, it was." Bradley says to her.

"She and Nick would have loved you." Marsha smiles at you. "You know, I never met two people who were more perfect for each other than my sister and Goose. You know he proposed after four dates. I guess when you know you know. I know Carole never loved anyone else after him. I hope they found each other in the afterlife and are happy together." Marsha sighs.

"They are." You sigh, and she looks at you confused. "I mean—I'm sure they are. Bradley has told me so much about them." You recover quickly. Marsha sighs before getting up to take your coffee cups. You offer to help her and follow her dutifully into the kitchen. You set the mugs down on the counter and turn to ask Marsha if she'd like help washing them.

But as you turn, your elbow catches the handle of one, and it crashes to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Let me clean it up!" You drop to your knees to grab the broken fragments of ceramic. A sharp piece catches your index finger and you wince, drawing back at the pain.

You bring your finger up to examine yourself and notice the fresh, crimson blood leaking out of the cut. Your eyes go wide with shock. This isn't supposed to happen.

"Are you okay, dear? Here, let me get the broom." Marsha says as she scoops you to your feet and sweeps up the mess. "I'm so sorry." You say to her again.

"Oh, honey, don't you worry. There's a hundred more where that came from. Do you need a bandage? Come over to the sink and grab a stool, I'll clean you up." She says.

"I'm fine." You assure her as you wash the blood from your hands.

Hours later, you and Bradley's family, well, your family now, are gathered around the dining room tabled eating. The cut and dropped mug from earlier long forgotten.

The atmosphere is warm and welcoming and it's nice to sit down and have a family dinner where everyone wants you around.

It's nice to have a real family.

That night, when the two of you leave, Marsha and Tom insist that they have enough room for the two of you to sleep over, but Bradley tells them you already have a hotel room. His aunt makes you promise to come over again before you leave so she can show you some photo albums of Bradley through the years. When you return the next day, you spend hours flipping through them with her. Bradley blushes every time Marsha shows you one that he deems embarrassing, but you love every minute of it.

The two of you spend the next few days exploring. The day before you're set to leave, Bradley takes you to the graveyard where his parents are buried.

As you drive into the cemetery in your rented car, you hold tight to Bradley's hand. Afraid of what might happen if you don't.

He drives up a hill and stops at the top, pulling the car over to the shoulder and shutting off the engine. You both unbuckle, but you reach for his arm before exiting. "Bradley, wait," you say, catching him by the elbow.

"What's wrong, Angel?" He asks you with a soft expression. "I just—I just need to do something before we go out there. C'mere." You say to him as you pull him closer.

You lean over the console of the rental car and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of Bradley's neck before pressing your foreheads together. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths hoping that your idea works.

You break apart and look down, and a smile graces your features as you see what you were hoping to see.

"What was that about?" Bradley questions you. "I was seeing if we were tethered." You tell him. He cocks an eyebrow, still unsure.

"Graveyards and one of the places that I can easily travel back to the Underworld. When I'm in my true goddess form, I can see the portals inside them. But when I'm in my mortal form, I can't. If I would accidentally pass through one, I don't know if I would be strong enough to make it back. But if I'm tethered to you, I have something connecting me here to the mortal world. It keeps me safe." You explain to him.

"How do you know we are tethered?" Bradley asks. "Look at your ring. You should be able to see it." Bradley looks down, and there's a gold string running between the two of you. "Holy shit." He breathes out. "How—how is that possible? How can I see this?"

"Because you're the King of the Underworld. And as much as I never thought they existed, Bradley, you're my soulmate. Only soulmates can be tethered. It's how they find each other in the afterlife." You explain to him.

"But, but I thought you said we couldn't be soulmates. That our marriage could never be real?" Bradley shakes his head.

"Ancient laws are tricky. But I think you made it real, Bradley." You say as the pieces fall into place in your mind. "How?" He retorts.

"Because you made me an alter the first time we made love. You said you would worship at my hips, worship me. You made me an alter, and so when we got married—"

"We married at an alter of the Gods, an alter for you." He finishes. "Exactly." You smile. "So what does that mean, Angel?" Bradley presses further. "It means they can't take you from me. Gods can't tear apart soulmates. Looks like you're stuck with me." You chuckle.

Bradley smiles and kisses you before stepping out of the vehicle and coming to open your door. You slip your hand in his as the two of you walk to the headstone that marks his parent's resting place.

The two of you walk up, and Bradley introduces you as if they were actually standing in front of you. He starts talking about you to them, and you can't fight the tears that slip down your cheek at his one-sided conversation.

It's moving to watch him talk about your love and your marriage to his parents. He does it in such an enthusiastic manner that it makes your heart swell. Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you close after a few minutes and the two of you bask in the silence.

"I've met them." You say after a few long minutes. "What?" Bradley whispers as he looks down at you.

"I've met them. In the Underworld. The day your mother passed. I was in the Underworld trying to figure out a way to stay. She walked into Paradise asking about "her Goose." I thought she was talking about a pet until she explained that Goose was he husband's call sign. I got to see them reunite. It was— beautiful." You say to him.

"So they really are together. You meant it when you said that at Aunt Marsha's house?" Bradley tears up.

"They are together and happy and still in love. I'm sure you've heard this before, but you really do look so much like your father." You say as you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes away some of his tears.

"I'm sorry I never told you before." You apologize. "It's okay. I understand why you didn't." Bradley says as he places his hand over yours. "I'm also sorry that I can't take you there to see them. If I was stronger—if I had my full powers—I could." You sigh, angry at yourself.

"It's okay, Angel. I know you could if you would." He whispers before kissing your forehead and pulling you in for a hug. The two of you stand there for a moment before you ask Bradley the question that's been on your mind. "Bradley, where do you want to be buried?"

He pulls back and thinks for a moment. "I never really thought about it. I always figured I'd either burn in, and there wouldn't be anything left of me or that I'd die alone and get boxed up and put in some military graveyard. But I think— I think I'd like to be buried here, with my parents. I'd like to have this view forever." He says as the two of you watch the hues of red and orange paint the evening sky.

"I think I can make sure that happens. Right here is going to be the perfect spot to spend eternity with you." You say. Bradley shakes his head. He doesn't say it, but he knows that he's going to die before you. But you've already promised him that you won't let him go without you. He just hopes you're both old and have lived a full life with that happens.

The two of you say goodbye to Goose and Carole with a promise to visit again soon before leaving.

Your flight home the next day is uneventful.

It's mid afternoon by the time you make it back. The two of you Uber back to your apartment before going to pick up Cerby and Hydra from Mav and Penny. You insist on driving to go get them. Bradley makes a fuss about it but ultimately gives in and hands you your keys.

"Angel, this isn't the way to Mav and Penny's." Bradley remarks as you make a turn. "I know." You hum back. You drive for a few more minutes before you pull into your final destination.

"Honey, who's house is this?" Bradley asks you as you pull in the driveway. "It's for sale. Let's go take a look." You say before hoping out of the car and bounding up the steps to the front door.

"Angel—baby—Hades, wait! We can't just go in a house that's for sale. We don't know if someone might be here!" Bradley scolds you as he follows you up the steps.

"No one is home, and we can go in if we have the key." You reply as you hold up the shiny piece of metal before unlocking the door. "How did you get that?" Bradley interrogates you as you step inside. "I have my ways." You laugh. "C'mon, Bradley, look around with me. Don't be such a kill joy." You tease him as you begin to flit throughout the space.

The bay windows along the back wall let in tons of natural like, and the floor plan is open concept with the kitchen, living room, and dining room flowing into one another. Gorgeous amber colored hardwoods run throughout the house and there is a fireplace along one wall.

The kitchen has beautiful light grey cabinets with white counter tops, and all the appliances are stainless steel. Bradley follows you up the stairs as he takes in all of the bedrooms before you lead him downstairs to the back patio and outdoor kitchen and the pool.

"Isn't this place amazing, Love?" You say to him with starry eyes.

"It's great, but—"He says hesitantly. "But what?" You ask him as you wrap your arms around his middle. "This is an expensive neighborhood and I know that you have money—"

"We have money." You correct him.

"We have money." He sighs. "But I don't want to spend so much of it. You earned that, and it's not fair."

You chuckle. "Bradley, I can't take it with me. And I've never had a reason to have a house until now. I mean, think about it. The yard would be perfect for Cerby and later on some kids. I mean, this would be the perfect home to raise our family in. You could teach them to swim in that pool while I make snacks in the outdoor kitchen. We could have our friends over. Heck, your aunt and uncle and cousins could come visit us. This place would be the perfect home for us!" You try to reason with him.

"I guess you're right. A place like this would be perfect for us to have a family. I guess we could talk to a realtor." Bradley laughs as the thought of you standing in the kitchen round and pregnant with his child while a toddler is running around the back yard with him creeps into his mind.

"We don't have to talk to a realtor, Bradley." You tell him. "I'm pretty sure we do, honey." Bradley chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure we don't. When we pulled up, you asked me whose house this was. Well, it's our house, Bradley. Welcome home." You say as you take a step back and dangle a key in front of him.

"You—you bought us a house? When? How?" He stammers, taking in your words. "The morning we left for Virginia. You'd be amazed what you can get done for the right amount of money.

"So you, you own this?" Bradley sweeps his hand around.

"We own this." You smile.

Bradley is silent for a moment before he picks you up and spins you around and carries you out the front door and onto the porch.

"Bradley? What are you doing?" You laugh. "I'm supposed to carry you across the threshold. It's tradition." He says with a matter of fact tone before doing just that. You break out into a fit of giggles as he sets you down and starts going through your home in earnest.

.................

Two weeks later, the two of you are all moved in. Your furniture fills the room, your photos and decor fill the walls and shelves. Your dishes sit in the cabinets, and Hydra and Cerberus have settled in nicely.

You've just come out of your huge new shower and are doing your nighttime routine when you notice a bruise from when you hit the corner of the kitchen island when making dinner, but you shake it off. As you apply some lotion, you notice the small scar on your hand from the mug you broke in Virginia.

When you go to inspect it further, you suddenly realize just how tired you are as you let out a yawn. You don't dwell on it because Bradley is calling you to come to bed, and the idea of being wrapped up in his big strong arms is the only thing you can be bothered to think of right now.

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milkws-world · 1 year

Text

Bitter// Simon “Ghost” Riley

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

•Readers call sign is Circe!

Warnings: ANGSTTT, descriptions of burn out and sad feelings, ghost being a little bit of an ass, two adults sorting their shit out

Summary:

“I’m sorry doll, I really am” he was pressing his forehead against yours now. “I’m not any good at this either, if you couldn’t already tell. But I wanna try, wanna try for you.” Your hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, you felt like you were about to burst. You knew how rare it was for him to say stuff like this and the fact that he wanted to try was pulling at your heart. “Don’t even wanna think about losing you and the fact that I made you doubt that-.” He cut himself off, he looked like he was trying to regain his composure.

A/N: Heyyy lovelies, long time no see. This can be read as a stand alone or as a Pt.2 to Cold Hands. There is a second part to this one with all the spicy stuff so don’t worry😋. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday.

It had been a month since the night he had stayed over at your flat. The night he touched and caressed you like it’d be the last time. You had been intimate before, there was no denying that, but the fact he stayed that night changed everything. You had feared it’d been too much too soon; your mind was a mess compared to the tidy and organized side of the bed opposite you, his side.

He had been deployed with Price and Gaz onto some mission you were only given brief details about.

Urzikstan. Massive cargos. Illegal weapons. Capture the target.

You were on R&R(rest and recuperation) by the captain. Usually, you would have been at the door of his office as soon as you received the news, but it had been a long fucking time since you’d gotten some proper rest. The dark areas underneath your eyes, scars that were still in their healing process, rough hands that could barely be flexed all the way due to the death grip you constantly had on your gun, and the tightness in every single muscle were all indicators towards the fact you needed a break.

The physical aspect of it all was only the beginning to the burn out you had felt coming long ago. You felt like shit to put it quite plainly. This month had you feeling empty and mentally exhausted beyond belief, when these long missions were finally done you no longer felt any sense of accomplishment just relief that it was finally over. It had been hard to get out of bed alone that morning no warning, no note, no nothing. You couldn’t exactly say you were surprised but anything at all would’ve been nice, because it’s what you would’ve done for him.

Now maybe that’s just you going out of your way or falling too hard for a man whose face you had never even fully seen. But it’s also just basic fucking respect from your point of view. Not having much to do was really starting to take its toll on you, too much thinking and reading into things you were sure weren’t even there was driving you insane. But it was only a couple more days before they’d come back to base, before he came back.

Meeting debriefs after missions is always quick, everyone just wants to get out of that room and cleanse themselves of all the horrors and grief that comes with the job. It was coincidence really; you didn’t even know they had gotten back. It was when you and Soap were on your way to the mess hall that you saw him, and he saw you. He had to have. You were right fucking there; you swore your shoulder even grazed a bit when you passed by.

“Glad to have ya’ back Lt.” the Scottish man said. You could tell he was hanging onto that last bit of sanity by the sag in his shoulders and the dragging of his feet, but his eyes said it all for him.

“Soap” the word came out dry and curt, a vocal representation of the man himself.

That was it, no nod or a glance of his eyes over to you to acknowledge that you were there. Just skimmed right past you. That was fine you tried to convince yourself, it’s probably what you were like after coming back from a mission. But it hurt, yet again you knew you shouldn’t expect much from him. You were a grown woman you shouldn’t be thinking about such a short and simple moment like a teenager in high school who can't wait to pass by her crush in the hallways.

Soon enough it had been two weeks since they’d been back, and everyone had gone their separate ways to recover from possibly the longest past 6 months of their lives. Those two weeks on base were hell though and you had never been gladder to be in your own plain and undecorated flat by yourself. He completely ignored you, and you had tried to come up with reasons or justifications but there just wasn’t any that were good enough for you.

It was the third day after the group returned when you tried talking to him for the first time. You figured you’d give him some time alone to gather his thoughts and recover from the long mission, but he was not up for your antics. You had caught sight of him leaving the mess hall and decided to excuse yourself from the group. Your small and quick steps making work to catch up to his long strides.

“Ghost” no response. At this point you were starting to get annoyed.

“Simon” you said more quietly as you were now only two feet behind him. He turns around and meets your soft gaze with a plain one. He looked almost bothered, you could feel it in the way he turned around with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Hey, are you alright or-”

“Fine” his answer was simple as always never a man of many words, at least not in public. You were starting to blank out under his cold gaze. He didn’t make you nervous but with the way he was looking at you right now you couldn’t necessarily say you felt at peace either.

“Ok um, well just wanted to check up on you really quickly” you felt like you had set yourself up. The air was thick, and you could feel your thoughts racing at 100 miles per hour as you waited for a response.

“Look sergeant, whatever you think is going to happen it’s not going to. I’m not here for hugs and cuddles, I'm here to do a fuckin’ job” to say you felt shocked was an understatement, he looked unfazed. “I'd suggest you do the same.” He walks away and you stay rooted in your spot, still processing his bitter words.

To say you were pissed was an understatement, who the fuck did he think he was? The rest of those two weeks were filled with awkward tension and silent fury from your side. It was to the point you couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him for more than a couple seconds, partly because the sight of him made your blood boil and because as much as you didn’t want to admit it you were upset. To have something build up little by little then just have that snatched away like it was nothing was horrible. He had gained your trust just as you had his, not just over a couple of nights but years of knowing each other and protecting one another with your lives. Holding each other at the depths of night and piecing each other back up with kisses and soft yet rough hands.

You couldn’t sleep, the fatigue had been slowly pulling at your bones like a tide pulling you in to the comfort of a vast sea. It was too much though; his words had been taunting your brain over and over again. So, you got up, ripping off the soft sheets which were a blessing compared to the coarse ones back at base. The need to get some fresh air and freeze your thoughts with the cold night air was starting to sound more pleasant than sulking in bed.

As soon as you open the door your reflexes take over for you, reaching for a gun in a holster that was long forgotten in the backpack you had left in your room. You soon realized there was no danger though, just a mass of black with jeans, a hoodie, and a black surgical mask with a hand raised midair. Was he about to knock?

“Ghost” you sounded breathless, even to yourself. Like the wind had been knocked out of you at just the sight of those eyes. Those god damned eyes. So responsive to everything around him, shifting at the slightest sound and showing emotions that could only be understood if one knew him. Knew him like you did. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes with no paint to cover them up were exposing him. “Are you alright?” Your question suddenly brought you back to your brief conversation a couple weeks earlier. You couldn’t help yourself though, worry taking over as there were very few reasons for him to be here.

“Fi-” he exhaled through his nose suddenly stopping himself, ah so he also remembered your conversation. “I was in town just wanted to come check up on you.”

“At 2 in the morning?” you were holding back. You wanted to say how shit he had made you feel for the last two weeks.

“Yeah I know, look can I come inside? I wanna- I need to talk to you.” He sounded desperate, and you considered it for a second, hesitating. “Please” to say you felt defeated as you opened the door wider for him to come in was an understatement.

You waited for him to start; he was the one that had come to you first not the other way around. He looked nervous almost, his tense posture making you feel more uneasy as well, he had that effect on you.

“Circe, I didn’t mean what I said back at base” he was looking at you with pleading eyes. You knew where this was going. “I pushed you away and I was an arse, I didn’t mean to fuck up what we had going on.”

“Simon” you could tell hearing his name took him by surprise by the way his pupils widened “what you did and what you said it fucking hurt.”

“I'm not a good at any of this especially trying to read you when you won’t even look at me but if you don’t want this anymore just tell me.” You continued, “Don’t destroy my trust, don’t leave me to pick up the pieces by myself after you say shit like that.” You could feel your eyes watering a bit, you don’t know why you were getting so emotional, although it was probably because the thought of losing what little you had built with him felt grim.

He couldn’t help it, especially when your eyes were getting that glossy look and your lower lip was pouting out a little. So he reached out, slowly, like a child dipping their feet to test out the waters. He wasn’t wearing any gloves and his hands felt cold as they held your face delicately, as if he was bearing the world's most fine China. He tilted your face up so you’d look at him and fuck, he knew he had screwed up, and if he was going to make it up to you he had to do it fast.

“Simon, it's alright” you knew he was being sincere, and you also wanted to try, “just please, don’t do this to me again. Because you know I won’t tolerate it, not even from you.”

“I know, I know” he was pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Alright” he takes you by surprise with his next action though. He pulls back only slightly to tear off his mask, and heavens above he is gorgeous to you. His jaw, sharp and stubbled with short hairs. His nose sharp and straight with a slight bump, and his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that brought his face all together.

“Hidin’ all this from me under a mask?” you were smiling up at him now. “Not anymore” he responds with a sly smirk on his face. His lips are brushing against yours and you can't resist anymore. So, you bring his lips to yours and close the gap. It was gentle, starting off with short kisses but you were greedy it had been far too long. He can sense your eagerness and slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, swiping it over your own and over the roof of your mouth. He tasted like Marlboro reds with the slightest hint of Whiskey, his favorite of course.

You felt whole again, the missing puzzle piece was finally found. You kind of hated how much you were relying on him already, but God was it addicting, like the poison you could taste in his mouth. He was grabbing at you slowly bringing his hand down from your face to your neck to keep you in place. It was getting messy, both of your spit was collecting at the corners of your mouth and you felt like you’d asphyxiate from the lack of air but what he was giving you was more than enough to keep you going. His hand grabbed at your jaw to tilt your head and his hand on your waist dragged you closer making you arch up against him. His mouth slowly trailed down to your neck leaving soft kisses and sucking marks onto your neck as you leaned your head to the side. Then he went up right behind your ear, your soft spot. He pulled back to look at your face, you already felt disoriented form all the affection and he could tell.

He then softly placed his mouth right by your ear, “Let me make it up to you.”

A/N: hey there, hope you enjoyed that😙. In case you didn’t see the note on the top just know that there will be a second part to this with all the spicy stuff🌶️. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday, happy new years!

#simon riley fanfic #simon riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #call of duty #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mwii #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

Note

Hiiii I was wondering if you can write something about 141 and a chubby s/o. If you don’t want to that’s alright. I just can’t find any fics with representation 😭😭💕 have a wonderful day or night

task force 141 + chubby!s/o

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: body descriptions for reader, explicit language

A/N: glarbonbargain sorry these are short i just feel like there's not much to elaborate on w/o it getting repetitive. if there's anything i missed that you want me to focus on tho send in another ask and i'll do it

simon "ghost" riley:

okay let's be serious ghost does not care how you look

like don't get me wrong he loves you, he loves your body, he loves the way you look

but he doesn't need you to look a certain way in order for him to have those feelings

honestly he just doesn't see the point in fussing over how your body looks, especially compared to others

in his opinion, the purpose of your body is to allow you to complete tasks to the best of your abilities and as long as your body can do that he doesn't care how you look

one thing he does want for you is a healthy lifestyle though

and of course he understands that weight does not equal health

as long as you're getting all your nutrients and maintaining strong heart/muscle health he's happy no matter how you look

(off topic but ghost is a strong believer in good heart health, as he should)

he just wants you to be able to live your best life with him

and he doesn't see the point in spending time fussing over your body

john "soap" mactavish:

okay so unlike ghost soap is more opinionated about your body

and his opinion is that he fucking loves it

he's always taking any chance he gets to let you know that too

he tends to do it verbally through words of encouragement/affirmation

he says it's because it's the easiest way to make sure you get the message but with the sheer volume of compliments he gives you sometimes you wonder if he just likes the sound of his own voice

that being said he'll also show his love for you through physical touch too

whenever he gets the chance he's quick to have his hands all over you

he just likes the way you feel what can i say

it's a welcome alternative to all the heavy and hard equipment he has to deal with on a daily basis

plus you're a sight for sore eyes and you provide a welcome reprieve from all the sweaty buff men he has to stare at all day

especially when he'd rather be staring at you

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so like soap gaz is definitely more appreciative about your body than ghost's total neutrality

honestly it was one of the things about you that caught his eye when he first saw you

he really likes your body and he won't let you try and berate yourself about it

sometimes if you're really having a bad day or something and you're complaining to him about how you dislike your body or whatever he'll have to stop himself from getting too frustrated

because for gaz it's so clear to him how your body is an asset and not a burden

and so it really pains him when you don't see yourself the same way

he does his best to be your hype man during these times

because he wants you to see yourself the way he sees you

john price:

alright with age comes maturity and with maturity comes not giving a fuck about trivial things like body types or standards

like ghost price has a sort of practical view when it comes to body image

as long as you're healthy and happy, he's happy

he's definitely more of a body neutrality over body positivity kinda guy

he understands that sometimes you'll have good days and sometimes you'll have bad days

and while he's never shy to give you a compliment he wants you to go on that journey of self acceptance by yourself

he's old enough to know that not everything is permanent and he doesn't want your confidence to be reliant on his words or compliments, especially because there's no guarantee he'll be alive the next day to give you those words or compliments

he's just happy if you're happy at the end of the day

alejandro vargas:

alright so alejandro absolutely loves your body

it's one of his favorite things about you besides your face

and he'll make sure it's drilled into your head just how much he loves you

he's never too busy to drop a compliment

sometimes they're about your body and sometimes they're not

but either way they always get your confidence going

another thing about alejandro is that he is a firm believer in that you look your best when you're confident

so he'll do whatever he can to hype you up and see you like that on a daily basis

honestly as long as you're by his side though he doesn't give two shits about how you look

he's just happy to be along for the ride what can i say

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so rudy just wants to make you feel loved and happy

so if you express any kind of dissatisfaction over your body he will literally sprint to your side so he can make you feel better about it

off topic super quick though but he's honestly not the kind of guy to mention it unprompted

like even though rudy is babygirl he's mature enough to not care about that stuff

and if left unprovoked he'll just assume that you're as in love with your body as he is

but of course if he finds out otherwise then it's a different story

and rudy has some really great compliments to make you feel better

in another hc im like 90% sure i pitched the idea that rudy majored in art/art history so he's definitely gonna bring up the fact that body types like yours literally fueled the renaissance

he'll tell you that you look like you hand sculpted by whatever deity you choose

and that it's like you were made just for him

i mean he's like the rest of these boys he wants you to be as happy as possible

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Text

Break | ksj (m)

☾ Pairing: Witch!Seokjin x cursed!reader

☾ Summary: Seokjin has been at your side for the last few years. He’s your closest friend, and the one person you don’t think you can live without. But what happens when you discover that he might be the source of the curse he’s been trying to help you escape from?

☾ Word Count: 18,990

☾ Genre: Supernatural, smut, angst

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Death and implied accidental murder of a sibling, childhood trauma, creepy vibes, heavy angst, a lot of internal monologue featuring angst, physical and verbal abuse from members of the town toward reader, sometimes confusing mentions of magic systems, explicit language, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), rough fucking from behind, dom/sub dynamics if you rEALLY squint, subspace/blacking out post sex, unhappy and ambiguous ending!!!!!!

☾ Published: May 22, 2023

☾ A/N: Hi hello this is one of the most random things I’ve ever written. I made a last minute choice to nosedive into this fic at the last second, which was certainly a choice. While it’s not my favorite work because of how hard I struggle to write it, I have a feel people are going to like it regardless and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself about it. Once again, Hali writes way too much for a small project and doesn’t even dip into the lore the way she wanted to! Thank you to @here2bbtstrash who was the amazing beta on this and fixed easily over 200 errors that I made while rush typing this. I handed this over unedited and unread from myself and they put this through the wash to have it in tiptop shape!

❀ A/N 2: M created their own Little Hut rhyme and I have opted to feature it here for reader’s enjoyment:

Little hut, little hut

Killer dick game

Little hut, little hut

All men is the same

Little hut, little hut,

Murdered your twin

Little hut, little hut

Time to fuck Jin

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | A Spring Offering Collab

Seokjin is good at holding grudges. Even as a child, his mother always said he had a tough time letting things go. He never knew how right she would be. His mother’s words are all he can think about as he storms through the dark of the forest, shadows whispering about him as he looks for the lone hut in the very dark of the woods.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

If his parents could see him now, he knows they would be broken. Tear-streaked and shaking, a lost boy alone in the woods and drowning in anger so hot that the ground scorches beneath his feet. Looking for a salve. Looking for vengeance.

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Blood witches are dangerous. Seokjin knows this, everyone knows this. A blood witch is the reason why his parents are dead and he is storming through the darkness in the throes of madness. But Seokjin is only thirteen and full of pain and desperation, vowing to never let something happen like this again. If he has to use a devil to defeat a devil, he will.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

A dark stream wends its way through the trees. Seokjin gets a running start and jumps across the whispering waters. When he lands on the other side, he waits. It took a lot of searching to find someone to tell him how to find the witch in the woods. No one comes here, especially not in the dead of night on Beltane.

They say only evil comes from the little hut in the woods. Seokjin knows now that it isn’t true. Evil comes from anywhere and everywhere, even from the people that one least expects. Evil killed his parents. Evil is why he is alone, crying on the edge of the stream, waiting for the sound of a banshee's call.

He hears it then. A one-note wail, thin and high-pitched. His blood goes cold and the fight in him nearly goes out at the sound. His heart begins to pound so loud that it’s all he can hear, the thundering beat of panic and terror as he realizes what he’s about to do.

“Little hut, little hut,” a voice that he cannot see calls to him. There is no hut that Seokjin can see. Only omnipresent darkness, cloying the air in front of him. A tingle skitters over his arms and he becomes acutely aware of another presence there with him in the dark. “I call to thee. Little hut, little hut, come to me.”

Seokjin blinks rapidly a few times and sees the outline of a hut in front of him. It has a blurry shape like it’s really the idea of a house. It’s so shadowed and opaque that he’s not entirely sure if it’s really there. He walks toward it anyway, one foot in front of the other, looking at the hut.

If a home could be a phantom, he thinks this is what the hut is. There is a vibrational pull here, a dull buzz in his veins as he gets closer and closer to where the blood witch lives. His stomach turns and his instincts beg him to leave. There is evil in this place. He knows it. Can feel its oily presence like a poisonous slick in his veins.

A door - or rather what he imagines is a door shape - stands open in the hut. Inside is eternal darkness like Seokjin has never seen before. The buzzing in his veins has become stronger, an itch he can’t scratch. A ringing in his ears.

Sometimes to beat evil, you must use evil. So Seokjin steps into the house despite all the reasons he should turn around and run. Because he is alone, he is in pain, and he needs some sort of penance. Justice.

So he asks the blood witch for a favor.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

When the rock hits you right at the top of your spine, you know it isn’t an accident. All the same, you spin on your heel and look at the edge of the lake where the kids are skipping stones. They squeal and look away from you, huddled together as they giggle and look over their shoulders with frantic and excited faces.

You clench your fists and keep going. What can you do to a group of kids? Tossing them into the lake while you’re an adult seems unfair, though it certainly crosses your mind. It isn’t necessarily their fault that they were taught to have such hate in their hearts at a young age, after all.

So, you keep going, grinding your teeth as you march up the slope toward the main pathway that cuts through the park, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you quicken your strides to put distance between you and the cackling children. You’re not positive they won’t throw another rock at you, and you think that it might send you over the edge.

Early preparation for the Beltane festival is in full swing all over the park. There are trucks unloading carts and piecing together stalls, vendors and contractors with clipboards walking through spray painted grass with city officials, and a giant maypole waiting to be constructed.

Living in a town of witchy folk can be fun, you suppose. The only downside is that most of the witches in your town despise you and think you’re an abhorrent blight to the earth. If killing and sacrifices hadn’t been outdated and frowned upon, you’re sure they would have stuck you to an altar as a child the first time you showed signs of being a leech.

Leech.

It’s an unkind thing to call witches who siphon magic. It isn’t something you can control - it isn’t even something you were born with. Most witches who siphon magic are born that way. A sort of magical defect in the way they interact naturally with the world.

Most think of siphoners as a plague to the witch community. Thieves and monsters who can only feed on magic to make magic, a perversion of the natural balance of things. The way you look at it, witches who siphoned aren’t really any different from the natural order of the world. All living things need an energy source: food for animals, sun for plants, bacteria for amoebas. It isn’t different, really.

Perhaps you would not be so kind to leeches, though, had you not began your existence as a siphoner at thirteen years old.

It isn’t a night that you enjoy remembering, but it is certainly a night you can’t seem to forget. One moment you could command your magic like most other witches. Most, because you were a blood witch with raw talent and a powerful relationship with the earth’s energy.

Blood witches were as revered as they were feared, witches who needed no spells. Who could use the magic within them instead of their connection with the earth to conjure. To blood witches, all other witches were leeches, really. You didn’t tell that to your coven, though you thought about the irony often.

Your blood magic had vanished, though. It happened while you lay asleep in your bed, pressed up against your twin sister. Twins were a special thing in covens, a rarity in the magical order of the world that was seen as a good omen. There was a connection you shared with her deeper than the connection to your own magic, a bond that rooted the two of you together. That made you seek one another out for comfort.

It had been storming that night and you had sought out the warmth of her bed and the vanilla sugar of her hair to soothe your nerves. You didn’t like storms and thunder very much, but she was wide awake in her bed, watching out the window as purple lighting cracked across the sky and thunder shook the house.

You’d slipped into her bed without a word and she stood guardian over you, hand tucked in yours as she watched the sky light up. You remember her laying down next to you after the storm passed. The warmth of her breath on your cheek as she fell asleep. The hum between the two of you, soul recognizing soul.

She’d been dead by morning, magic siphoned and drained dry in the middle of the night.

The memory of it is metallic in your mouth. You head toward your apartment, hands tucked into the pockets of your jeans, head down. Beltane always makes you think of your sister. Makes you think of the morning you woke up on your thirteenth Beltane to find her cold and dead, magical signature gone. Severed. Torn away from you.

Losing your ability to generate magic was only second to losing your sister. You still feel adrift fifteen years later. Moving through the world with a piece of you missing. Two pieces of you, if you count the fact that you can feel the magic around you but not reach for it. You never reach for it, though you suspect that no one believes you.

Except maybe Seokjin. But even he doesn’t know the story of how you became what you are. All he knows is that you can’t create your own magic, and yet he’s never shamed you for it. Never turned his back on you, or berated you or bullied you.

That sort of kindness is a rarity in your world.

Your small northeastern town is easy to navigate. There’s not much that happens that doesn’t immediately become the knowledge of all citizens, and there’s not really a way to get lost unless you’re a tourist coming to visit the country's spookiest and most magical town. The locals are pretty firm believers in magic, but the out of towners don’t really believe. They just want camp and kitsch.

It’s busy season, the streets filled with people buying decorations to celebrate Beltane, restaurants full of tourists trying out local fare between going shop to shop. The festivals always draw a big crowd to your corner of the world, making it easier for you to blend in with all the rest of them. It almost makes you feel normal when someone doesn’t recognize you and immediately scowl. Sometimes you can even get away with eating at places that wouldn’t normally serve you, the workers too busy to really look at your face and see you.

A few people have taken pity on you outside of Seokjin. Namjoon and Jimin would never turn you away, always welcoming you with open arms, a warm cup of tea and free books for as long as you like at their bookstore. You’re not technically allowed in the metaphysical store on Fourth, but as long as Yoongi is working, you can walk through the rows and rows of crystals, grimoires, spices and charms. Seokjin is where you’re really home, though, his bakery a place of safety and fresh-smelling sugar cookies.

It’s where you go now, sticking to the shop windows and away from the tourists flowing all over Main Street like ants. There’s a line stretched out the door when you get to Magical Moon Bakery, and Jungkook looks helpless behind the counter as he nods while taking an order, wide-eyed and terrified.

Seokjin is at the delivery counter, flour staining his cheek and brow as he nods politely and hands a box of cupcakes over to his customer. As though he can sense you, he lifts his head and swivels, eyes scanning until they land on you, immediately shining. Your stomach leaps the way it often does around him, especially when he breaks out into a beautiful smile and jerks his thumb at an apron.

You roll your eyes. You’re not technically an employee at the bakery, but you help often enough that you tease Seokjin sometimes that he should start paying you. You never mean it, of course. Your reward is his unearned and unlikely friendship, and the fact that his friends have taken you in even when other covens have turned their backs on you.

Perhaps if he’d grown up here he’d hate you. It’s a thought you have often, even when you’re pulling the loop of a lavender apron over your head and tying it around your waist. You can’t imagine Seokjin ever hating you for no reason, but sometimes you wonder if he had the influence of the other kids of your town if it would be different.

“Can you take over the order counter?” he asks, the blush on his face the only sign that he’s getting a little frazzled. You nod and he winks at you, leaning over to press a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek. “Worldwide best friend.”

“Mhmm,” is the only response you manage to string together, flustered by his proximity.

It’s no secret that Seokjin is one of the best looking men in town. Even among witches, who are unnaturally beautiful to begin with, he stands out. Dark, silky hair swept back off of his forehead, dark eyes with a spark of caramel right around the pupil, lips full and lush like Aphrodite, and a face molded from the finest clay, glazed and perfected.

Loving him isn’t hard. He’s as kind as he is beautiful, and Seokjin is silly. Able to make you laugh and draw you out of the melancholy that is permanently affixed on your person. It’s been that way since you met in your early twenties right after he moved to town, and you’re grateful for it.

Even if loving him is pointless. He can never be yours - would never want to be yours in that way, anyway.

So you settle for less. Settling for crumbs is what you’re good at. What people think you deserve, being the little leech that you are.

No one you’re serving at the bakery knows you’re a leech, though. All they know is that they are eager to try the best baked goods in town, wondering at the menu as each item has a list of things it’s good for. Rose scones to make someone fall in love, marshmallow fluff cupcakes to soften the blow of bad news, gumdrop cakes to summon rain.

Everything on the menu has a charm to it, both literally and figuratively. Seokjin is wildly creative in his carefully crafted menu, and he imbues magic in everything he makes from the eggs to the whipped frosting.

Being here is nice. Jungkook grins when he sees you behind the counter, happy for the help. He still gets overwhelmed behind the till, and he’s more than happy to step back and chew his lip nervously when he processes a discount wrong. You’re up next to him before he can ask for help, typing on the screen while gently walking him through it again.

Jungkook is a good kid, an elemental witch who is prone to cause rainstorms when he gets stressed. For now, he is a bottle of sunshine, thanking you shyly and letting you know that he saved you a bag of butterscotch cookies in the back.

“I put in a little extra sunshine,” he promises. By that, you know that he means magic. To give you. You open your mouth to scold him but he shakes his head furiously, long, wavy locks shaking. “I wanted to do it. Please don’t yell at me.”

That gets you. It’s hard to be mad at him, especially when anger is likely to set him off into a rainstorm. Jungkook’s round eyes are pleading and he pouts, a tactic you know he has learned from his boyfriend to use as a weapon. You think about sending Taehyung some choice text messages but instead, thank Jungkook for the cookies and continue to help him.

This is what keeps you going most days. The unfettered kindness that Seokjin and his friends show you. None of them are locals to town, but they had formed their own coven a little at a time, a circle under the broad umbrella of the town's overall witch population.

Covens are difficult. You’re both in and not in Seokjin’s coven, an unofficial member by friendship. But you don’t practice anymore - won’t let yourself - so you’re on the outside looking in most weekends and during spiritual times of the year.

But by witch standard, you are a part of the covenstead of the town, the larger collective of witches who are loyal and responsible for one another, all answering to the high priestess. Who has begrudgingly let you stay as a member of the covenstead for the sheer fact that you’re her niece and nothing more.

When the rush of customers and crinkling to-go bags slows, you lean against the counter and reach a hand out just as the door to the back swings open. Seokjin has a glass bottle of soda ready for you, and he blinks in surprise when he sees your hand ready for it. You’re a little surprised as well. Though you have no magic on your own, you still sometimes predict things before they happen. Or at least, your instincts do.

“It’s freaky when the two of you do that,” Jungkook comments, eyes bouncing between you and Seokjin as the older hands you the bottle. “You’re always so in-tune.”

“She’s a witch,” Seokjin snorts, leaning against the glass case of mostly empty dishes as he takes a swig of his own. “Divination and all that is sort of what we do.”

“Yeah, but it only happens with you.”

You don’t meet Seokjin’s eyes as you swig from the bottle, the carbonation fizzing on your tongue. “I can’t help it that I inspire magical abilities,” is Seokjin’s answer. Always deflecting. You're grateful for the way he rolls with the punches, easily accepting the way others talk about you two as an item so you don’t have to. “Plus, even witch-adjacents have the ability of foresight.”

What he doesn’t say is that even in your dishonored position as a siphoner, you can get sensations and feelings. While you can sense magic and you’re still in tune with the world around you, Jungkook is right: you only have this sense of knowing with Seokjin, like there is a tiny string of fate connecting the two of you.

When it’s time to close down the shop, you help the two of them out. Seokjin goes to the back to begin batching things anew: fondant, bread, frosting - anything that he can let sit overnight or prep while the lights are out and he’s gone home. You focus on cleaning with Jungkook, letting him put on a pop playlist while he sings along, siren voice lulling you into a steady rhythm.

Part of you wants to ask what they’re doing for Beltane. Celebrating the holidays use to be your favorite, threading flowers through your hair, blessing your hearth and home, weaving new spells of prosperity and happiness alongside your sister. Now you don’t participate in any of the rituals with the others.

Most of the time, you celebrate alone in your room. Mark the points of the elements and the compass on your bedroom floor alone. Sit in front of a single candle, watching the flame flicker as you draw your circle of salt, murmuring blessings. It isn’t a powerful place of practice and you have no alter to command, but it's something. It’s yours.

Instead of asking, you follow Seokjin and Jungkook out of the door on the promise of dinner. It is the one thing that does feel like a ritual you’re allowed to participate in, holding chapel at Seokjin’s dining room table and elbowing with Jimin and Taheyung to reach for the food piled high.

Evening sky stretches overhead as you walk between Seokjin and Jungkook. You cast your eyes upward, watching the gray clouds float by. Seokjin throws an arm around you, pulling you in close and squeezing you to his side. He smells like vanilla and sweet orange from making his tangerina vanilla cakes for Yoongi. You breathe in his scent, letting it wash through you like a balm.

His arm presses a little too hard on the bruise where the rock from earlier nailed you, and you hiss, reaching behind your head automatically to adjust his hold on you.

“What?” he asks, lifting his arm and slowing his gait. Seokjin’s face is picture-perfect concern, mouth tilted downward, a crease in his brows. Before you can explain, his hands are pulling at the collar of your shirt. “You’ve got a welt here, what the hell is that?”

You smack at his hands and step away from him, pulling his warm fingers from your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

“Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it's always something. Why do you have a lump on the top of your spine?”

Dancing away from him, you grab Jungkook who grunts, mouth full of corn chips as you shove him between you and Seokjin. More unhappy noises come from the youngest as Seokjin grabs for you but you squeak and use Jungkook’s broad body to block him again.

“Yah!” Seokjin yells, reaching both arms around either side of Jungkook to grab you. He manages to get one of your arms, pulling you toward him - and by default, Jungkook - and keeps a firm grip while you swat and fight back.

“Nooo!” Jungkook howls between the two of you, adding to the chaos as he shoves both of you away from him. “Stop using me as a battering ram! I’m going to drop my chips! Guys!”

“Tell me why you have a wound!”

“It isn’t a wound!”

“It’s a type of wound!”

“Ugh let my arm go, hulk!”

“Stop hissing at me like a rat!”

Jungkook drops his bag of chips and lets out a long, forlorn wail. “My chiiiiiiiiips!”

After a struggle, you manage to shake Seokjin off of you, taking a few steps back as you huff angrily, fists at your side. Seokjin sidesteps Jungkook who is pouting and looking at the ground, wavy bangs falling in his eyes as he stares at the spilled corn chips. Seokjin makes it worse by stepping on them, earning a shriek from Jungkook that goes ignored.

“Did someone hurt you?”

A rumble rolls through the sky from up above. You cast your gaze upward, looking at the clouds that are a little more swollen than they were a few minutes ago. You can sense the static in the air, a promise of lightning if you don’t diffuse Seokjin’s anger quickly.

Similar to Jungkook, Seokjin is sensitive to the elements. Where Jungkook has an affinity for the sky and the rain, Seokjin has a lot more skill with fire. Still, Seokjin is a powerful witch and his rage on more than one occasion has disturbed the sky and the lake in the middle of town.

It’s partly the reason he works so hard on never getting angry.

“It’s nothing, Jin,” you answer softly, eyes pleading. You desperately want him to drop it. Part of you is honored that he cares, but the other half of you can’t bear the way he looks at you. “Please drop it.”

“Someone hurt you. Again.”

Thunder echoes across the sky. Jungkook looks upward. “That isn’t me, even though I am mad about my chips.”

“Jin, it isn’t a big deal. Please.” You glance upward, thunder rolling again. “You’re going to make it rain.”

“I’ll make it do more than that when I find out who did it.”

“They were just kids, Jin. You can’t-”

He swears loudly and there’s a flash of lightning above your head. It makes you think of that night with your sister, laying in bed to let the storm pass. You clap your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut, automatically crouching to make yourself small.

Behind your shut eyes, you try not to let the memories come. Try not to imagine the vanilla scent of her hair, warm hands on your skin turned cold the next morning. You block out the screams, the way your mother shoved you away and your father yelled and yelled and yelled.

Above, the thunder stops. The rain doesn’t fall, and the air pressure returns to normal. Shivering, you crack an eye open to look at Seokjin, terrified at what you might find. His anger is so rare but flips on a dime, catching you off guard any time it happens.

Jungkook is murmuring in Seokjin’s ear now, voice hushed and urgent. Seokjin’s eyes become unfocused as he nods, Jungkook’s hands grasping the older’s biceps firmly. When Seokjn’s eyes find yours over Jungkook’s shoulder, they’re fathomless. Endless pools of black and something else that you can’t decipher as he murmurs something back to Jungkook, who steps away.

Licking his lips, Seokjin offers you a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

You swallow thickly. Reach out a tentative hand. “It’s okay.”

“You know I would never hurt you?”

Of course you know that. You aren’t afraid of Seokjin or the power he holds. You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You are afraid of the memories that nip at your heels like a pack of jackals, waiting for you to grow weak and fall before they attack. You are afraid of the way that it makes you feel when he cares about you.

“I know that,” you murmur, letting him pull you to your feet. “It’s just the thunder, that's all.”

His smile is soft. “I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand. It’s a perfect fit, your palm in his. His skin buzzes with magic and you’re careful not to take any, always keeping your guard up so that you can never siphon again. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Home isn’t the small apartment on the west side of town that you keep by yourself. Home is Seokjin’s two-story house in the suburbs made of brick and mortar. It’s the crowded dining room with eight chairs pulled close to the wooden table and a chandelier full of burner candles and incense. It’s Seokjion’s cat familiar running yowling down the corridor as Yoongi’s maine coon chases it, hissing.

Home is seven witches who don’t care that you can’t generate your own magic, all of them laughing and pushing empty plates toward the middle of the table where Namjoon collects them with a snap of his fingers, the cutlery lifting and stacking neatly with the soft click of ceramic.

Bloated and overly satiated, you lean back in your chair, sighing heavily. Yoongi is next to you, quiet and staring off into space the way that he often does. Next to him, Jimin and Namjoon have their heads bowed together whispering, a blush flushing across Namjoon’s wine-glazed expression and tops of his ears.

Namjoon and Jimin strike something in you. A longing that tugs at your heart strings, drawing your gaze to the man sitting on the other side of you. Seokjin is leaning back in his chair, arm stretched over the back of your seat as he yawns mid-conversation with Hoseok.

Seokjin is barely touching you, but just the warmth of his arm is enough to make you dizzy. It’s barely there, just against the top of your back. You lean into him a little, resting your head on top of his arm. He maneuvers his hand to scratch the top of your head lightly. It feels so nice that your eyes flutter shut, letting him play with your hair as the noise in the room drifts to a dull buzz.

In another life, you think that this touch could be something more. Sometimes, you let yourself wonder if it is. Let yourself pretend that maybe Seokjin’s lingering gaze and lingering hand is more than the platonic affection he has for you.

It’s a silly dream.

When the dishes are washed and the others have said their goodbyes, it’s just you and Seokjin leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He has a glass of wine, sipping it thoughtfully as you put the cork back in the wine bottle. When you meet his gaze, you see something there. Hesitance. Anxiety.

Seokjin chews on his lips and swishes the wine in his glass. The red arches elegantly along the sides of the glass, slowly dripping back down to pool in his cup. You remember once at a winery you could measure the legs or something when swishing wine in a glass to learn some small factoid about the wine, but it’s far from your memory now.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, taking a sip of your own. It’s a strong mulled wine with notes of cherry, you think. “You look nervous.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your heart beats hard once. Then twice. Speeds up. Instead of answering right away, you take a sip of your wine, mind running through all of the things you think he might say. Maybe this is it, he’s going to tell you that you can’t come around as much. That though you’re his best friend, you have to stay away from his coven.

Instead, Seokjin says, “You know I’ve looked into your situation.” You wince when he says it but he pushes forward, leaning off the counter as he grows eager. “You said you weren’t always a siphon, that you could control your own magic as a child. I’ve been researching similar cases, and there is a lot of evidence that supports that it might be a magical block.”

“Jin.”

“Look, I’m happy with the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you. But I know that you aren’t happy with it.” His jaw flexes. “And I care about your happiness. I just… Yoongi and I have been reading up on rituals to release magical blocks, and with Beltane in a few days, we thought…”

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You know how much this means to him, trying to help you. To free you from the burden that you carry with you wherever you go. This is not the first time he has brought up trying to figure out your ailment. Your situation. And though you’re glad he cares about you enough to try, there is something humiliating about it.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Seokjin murmurs. You look up at him and his gaze is soft. Vulnerable. “But if you want us to try, we discussed it. And our circle is strong enough to try it on Beltane.”

Licking your lips, you nod once. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you.” You give him a look and he smiles, a little sad. “What? I am.”

“Stop trying to be charming. I’ll only say yes if I want to.”

“I have no doubt about that. However, it is impossible for me to stop my charm. It is a natural gift.”

You roll your eyes. “Along with your insufferable humor.”

“There is nothing insufferable about me. Especially with Yoongi around.”

You don’t push the argument. Seokjin grins again before opening a drawer in his kitchen, pulling out a small, cloth bag. There’s a green ribbon tying the top of it shut, and you smell the herbs inside of it immediately: cedar, bay leaves, mugwort.

Seokjin holds the bag out to you and you frown, taking it. It’s weighted with crystals. You squeeze the bag a little, feeling the crunch of crystal fragments and herbs. There is a vibration that travels from your fingers up your arms and you feel a sense of solid warmth.

“A protection bag,” you deadpan. “Really?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need this.”

“The welt on your neck says otherwise.”

“Please stop!” Your voice is loud in the empty kitchen. He pulls up short, leaning against the counter and watching you with wide eyes, lips parted slightly. You sigh deeply and close your eyes for a moment, calming yourself before you open them and say, “I don’t mean to yell, it’s just - it’s hard when I feel like all of you coddle me. It’s humiliating.”

“It wasn’t my intention. I’d never want to make you feel that way.”

“I know.”

You do know. The intentions are good, but you can’t help the raw, venomous edge of frustration. It makes you feel less than, this constant need to help you. To do things for you.

“I don’t want to be a problem that everyone feels like they need to solve. There’s more to me than being the covenstead’s leech.”

“You know that isn’t how we think of you.”

You give a frustrated noise. “Then please. Let me ask for help when I need it.”

Seokjin is quick to catch the protection bag when you toss it back to him. He nods silently, eyes fixated on the floor. It feels like a hot stone has been dropped in your stomach, burning and weighing you down. How quickly a good dinner has turned sour, how the light air between the two of you has gone cold.

“Thank you for dinner. And for looking into a way out of this,” you gesture wildly to yourself. He nods, but there’s no mirth in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course. Let me know about… you know.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

That night, you have trouble sleeping, just like that night when you were thirteen years old.

The back door to Shadow Metaphysical opens, creaking as Yoongi sticks his head out. His long hair is styled behind his ears and he’s in a soft-looking black sweater and jeans. He smiles when he sees you, gentle and kind as he opens the door a little wider, beckoning with his head to enter.

Slipping through the back door, you enter a dark office. It’s only lit by candles spread over various shelves and desks, and a few hovering candles near the ceiling. It’s warm and cozy, and you spot Yoongi’s familiar napping on the chair pulled up to the desk where a computer shows some sort of accounting system.

Yoongi leads you to the front of the store. It’s closed for the evening and he has receipts and cash laid out on the counter as he balances his drawer for the day. The shop has tall ceilings and is lined with rows and rows of dark shelving. The lighting here is not powered by candles or magic, but rather golden cafe lighting strung on the ceiling.

Shadow Metaphysical is one of your favorite places. It smells different each time you go in, the magic and the herbs and the spells inside of its four walls shifting with the energy of its employees and customers at all times. Today, it smells like night rain and crackling lightning.

Wordlessly, Yoongi gestures at the shelving, signaling to do whatever you need. He busies himself with going back to counting bills, head down and trusting you not to steal anything. Not that he would care, as he’s always emphasized he has no problem not taking your money.

Still, you always pay him, especially since he lets you in after hours where no one can yell at you for being inside. The covenstead has barred magical stores from siphoners, convinced that they would cross the threshold and drain the shops of magic.

It isn’t true, though you can feel the ebb and flow of open magic sources around you. You’re not here for magical purposes, specifically. There are things you can buy yourself and keep in your apartment to ground you to the earth, and there are still rituals and practices that you keep up with, even as your connection is severed.

As you pass rows and rows of books on rituals, you think about Seokjin’s offer to help you figure out your block. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried and failed to figure out what happened. With magic, the point of origin is always the key to any spell. The how and the where of your condition are important elements to figuring out the solution, but no one really knows the how and the where.

Your friends don’t have full clarity on that night. You’ve never told them in explicit detail of how you woke up, full of your sister’s magic. The town calls you a kin killer and a leech, so you’re sure they know enough to know the source of your hesitation is violent and personal.

Still, you slow as you pass a grimoire. The runes on it shine gold when you pause, winking at you, begging you to touch it. You feel the whisper of the spells of dozens of witches inside of it, their phantom fingers brushing down your arms. Your spine. You shiver and look away from the book, pressing on to the herbs section.

It would be nice not to feel the lure of power. Not to feel the itch and the cunning voices of magic begging you to use them use them use them use them-

“Stop,” you growl out loud. You don’t know who you’re talking to - yourself, the magic in the store, the universe. Taking a deep breath, you gather your wits and complete your shopping, moving with a robotic pace around the store to get what you need.

At the register, Yoongi gives you a wary look as you set things down on the counter. He takes his time scanning them, glancing at you occasionally. You can sense he wants to ask a question, dark eyes lingering a few times. That’s the thing about Yoongi, though. He’ll never ask, he’ll just wait until you give up.

Which you do, sighing and saying, “Ask.”

His lips twitch as he bags a few jars of thorns. “How often do the books in here talk to you?” You level a stare at him and he rolls his eyes. “I can hear you. And every time you’re in here, it’s like they all turn to look at you. Is it often?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Since it happened, there’s always been a pull or like magical objects to taunt me.” You chew your lip and rub your sweaty palms on your jeans. “It’s worse around the sabbat holidays.”

“Stronger magic.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Jin explain what ritual we talked about?” You shake your head. He pushes over a paper bag filled with all your things and you hand over your card. As he swipes it, Yoongi explains. “Two smaller rituals wrapped into one. Namjoon found a really old binding ritual that was used to form a bridge between multiple rituals.”

“So like when you chain spells together,” you offer. “Impressive. I guess that would be used for improving upon old rituals?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Seokjin had been doing some research on magical blocks and shit, and found one that locates a point of origin of the block whether it’s internal or external.”

“External?” He nods. “Like a curse?”

“Yes. Any reason anyone would want to curse a thirteen-year-old?”

Yoongi phrases it like a joke and chuckles. But you don’t laugh, stilling as you think about his question. Your immediate answer is no, at thirteen there was certainly nothing you could have done to be cursed. But you think about your parents, thinking about the fear revolving around their gifts for blood magic, think about the way they were always regarded with equal parts fear and reverence as coven leaders.

Curses aren’t common. It would take a coven of extremely skilled witches to curse someone, but it could take a single very skilled blood witch to toss one. Hexes aren’t long-term and are far more manageable, but you think about the way your power vanished, the way you bled your sister dry.

The misery you’ve faced since, the loss of your parents shortly after, the hatred from the covenstead.

“Holy shit, you don’t think you’re cursed, do you?” Yoongi’s question brings you out of your daze. All of the amusement has been wiped clean from his expression, eyes deadly serious. “Who would curse a child?”

“People were really afraid of my parents,” you admit. “My mom used to lead the covenstead here, you know?” That surprises him and you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, before my aunt. She isn’t a blood witch. My mom was and led the covenstead until um - my sister died.”

“I never knew that. No one talks about it.”

There is a question there. Yoongi won’t say it outright, but you sense the curiosity nonetheless. You feel your throat constrict a little as you murmur, “She stepped aside when my sister died. It was more political than anything, but no one talks about it out of respect for my aunt.”

“But still, to curse a child?”

“There was…” You think back to the time when you were thirteen. Those days are painted so painfully when you think about them that it is hard to remember anything else. “My parents were involved in the Trials that were going on at that time. Hunting Dissenters.”

Yoongi’s face darkens. “I see.”

“They had a lot of enemies. So maybe… I don’t know.”

For a few moments, Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He busies himself with packing away the rest of the till and waving his hand, dousing all the lights in the store with ease. There’s a little pang as he does it, such simple magic that costs him nothing. That you have no access to.

“Well,” Yoongi sighs, a little awkwardly. “Think about it. If - and it’s unlikely - that someone cursed you, you’ll know if we go through with the ritual.” He pauses and levels you with a look. “It is dangerous though. So consider the risk before you agree, hmm?”

You nod and thank him. He leads you out of the store and gives you an awkward smile goodbye. Never affectionate, but always polite and warm nonetheless.

Sunset-purple skies stretch above you. It smells like fresh rain and earth outside. Town is quieter now that the evening crowd has finished dinner and gone home or back to their accommodations for the evening. You pass places with patio seating and small diners tucked between stores, wary eyes of the workers following you as you walk down the sidewalk.

No one says good evening. Some don’t look at you at all.

Curse.

The word weighs heavy on you. You’d never considered that your condition could be from a curse before, but now that you think about it, you can’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind.

The Trials had been a scary time for witches, Dissenters leaving covensteads to start their own, dark and forbidden spellwork becoming more and more popular among covens. Your parents - especially your mother and her sister - had been a huge part of cleansing the covenstead from witches who practice dark magic.

Especially the few blood witches.

You had been a blood witch, though. Like your sister, like your mother. People had always been wary of them, which is why your mother worked so hard to get rid of the Dissenters when she was the head priestess.

They give us a bad name, she would say darkly when you and your sister asked why she was getting rid of witches like you. Like her. In times like this, we have to work extra hard to prove we aren’t evil.

And then you bled your sister dry. Drained her magic until she couldn’t fight you back and you woke up to that feeling of her cold hands on your overwhelmed skin. Your mother had never really looked at you the same after that, stepping down as the high priestess immediately.

You suspect she protected you in the only way she could. Disallowing you to use magic of any sort, placing hard restrictions on how you could live, outlawing you from spaces where you had grown up. It was better than death.

At least, you used to think so.

Yoongi’s words weigh heavy on you as you sit in your apartment alone. You don’t bother to put the TV on, knowing that you won’t be able to pay attention to anything. Magic always comes at a price, and two rituals wrapped into one is going to take a toll.

And yet, you think about getting to the bottom of this sickness, this curse. This inability to do anything but steal magic, to leech off of others. You think about how your magic used to feel, the way you could command fire with a snap of your fingers or make stars fall from your bedroom ceiling.

An ache settles in your chest as you lay back on the couch and close your eyes, throat tight and eyes burning. You have been without magic for so long. Part of you thinks what's a little longer? But deep down, you crave it. The spark, the life, the touch of magic.

You want to be able to enter stores without the itch underneath your skin, an addiction you can’t cure nor divulge in. You want to be able to be a part of a community again, to do rituals with Yoongi and Jungkook and Seokjin. You want to be able to help him in his bakery, imbuing his scones and cupcakes with love and a little spark of something extra.

Tears flow hot on your face. You know what you want, and you know that it’s going to cost you to get it. You know that to do this, you’ll have to be open and honest, because there are only two possible options for your magic block: you are cursed or you have a mental block.

It’s hard to know if being cursed as a result of your parents’ policing is worse than potentially having an internal block, an innate refusal to do magic because of what you did.

That night sits at the back of your mind like a stone, sinking sinking sinking. Pulling you under as you think about it in explicit detail. Maybe you simply killed your twin. A horrible accident, but perhaps it was just you. Your magic. Your fault.

And your magic had fled because of it, a self-inflicted punishment.

Before you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have the phone in your hand, sniffing and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Your face feels swollen and sticky with tears and overwarm and it’s hard to get a breath as you press the phone to your ear, listening to the ringing.

Seokjin picks up on the fourth ring, his voice cheery. “What, did Yoongi forget to let you in the store?”

“No.”

“I’m coming now,” Seokjin says, completely forgoing humor when he hears you sniff, hears the waver in your voice. “Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone hurt you?”

“No,” you hiccup. “I’m just really sad and I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Do you want to stay on the phone?” You shake your head and let out a little sob. Something about knowing he’s coming over to be with you cracks your resolve a little more. You realize he can’t see you when he prompts, “Hey, you there?”

“Sorry, no. Drive safely, please.”

“For you? Anything.”

Despite your tears, your mouth wobbles into a weak smile at that. It makes your heart squeeze just a little, underneath all the hurt.

It doesn’t take him long to let himself in the apartment. You can sense him before he even gets to the stairs leading up to your unit, his crackling energy like a beacon to you. When he opens the door with the key you gave him, he fills the space with static, magic snapping and tinged with worry.

Magic always belies how Seokjin feels. Like now, as he rushes across the apartment, he is lightning, all energy and anxiety popping and snapping as he sits on the couch next to you, pulling you into his chest.

Seokjin is warm and smells like vanilla and sweet orange from the bakery. It’s soothing. You close your eyes and clutch the hem of his shirt, resolve cracking the rest of the way as he becomes your anchor as you drift out to sea, holding you so that you can be lost in the overwhelming feeling of loss without getting too far.

He doesn’t tell you not to cry. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Seokjin leans back on the couch, pulling you into his lap, holding your knees so that he can hold you. One hand rubs your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head, leading you to use the crook of his neck as a place to hide - and turn into a waterfall for your tears.

This is what you love about Seokjin though. He doesn’t pry. He just lets you use him, lets you cry it out and he waits.

When the tears begin to dry and you find it easier to breathe again, you shift away from Seokjin and wipe your face. He smiles down at you, eyes glittering and expression so fond that you find yourself staring blankly into his face.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff. “And thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you.” You hate the way it makes your heart flip when he says that. You start to pull away from him to sit on the couch properly but his arms constrict you, keeping you to him. You frown but he asks, “I want to know what happened, if you’re ready to talk about it.”

Seokjin is so close his breath fans your face. You look up at him. Silky, long lashes that you could individually count with your proximity, beautiful tan and smooth skin with a glow all witches have, strong brows that you always thought made Seokjin’s face the perfect balance of boyish and beautiful.

Your heart starts to speed up and your mouth dries out with the way he looks at you, intense and searching. Suddenly you’re afraid if he looks too hard, he’ll see down to your core.

“I- yeah. I need some water,” you croak, pulling away. He lets you go this time, unaware that what you really need is space between the two of you, a barrier so he can’t see. So he won’t know. “Turns out sobbing makes you thirsty.”

Before you can get all the way to the kitchen, there’s a soft clink accompanied by a full glass of water on your counter. You glare at Seokjin over your shoulder and he winces and shrugs in apology.

As you gulp down mouthfuls of cool water, you wonder how to word exactly what you’re upset about. How you’re tired of existing in the world without your magic but you’re also unsure if you want to know the truth about why your magic left you.

Seokjin is iffy on the details about the night your sister died. He’s never asked you explicitly for the story before, but if you want to go through with finding out the root cause of your block, you know you’ll be exposed. To him. To all of them. To his coven.

The desire to be one of them is so strong that it makes your knees weak as you walk toward the couch. You sit abruptly on the couch arm, staring into the distance as you drink the rest of the water. You want to join them so much, to celebrate the sabbat holidays, to feel the rush of a closed circle of magic and yet…

Would they accept you if they knew you killed your sister? You’re not so sure.

You look at Seokjin. He waits patiently, watching you with soft eyes. Moonlight seeps in through the blinds behind him, wreathing him in silver light. He looks like a god, then. Of shadows, of night, of mystery. This best friend of yours who you love so much and who has loved you indiscriminately when he didn’t have to.

“I talked to Yoongi about maybe doing the ritual,” you start slowly. Seokjin nods, encouraging you. “And I think I came to the conclusion that I want to do it. I’m tired of feeling everyone’s magic pull at me, like a vice that I have to ignore every day. And I’m tired of wanting to do things I used to, to feel the world around me. But most of all, I just want to be a part of something. A part of a coven, a family.”

Understanding paints Seokjin’s face. He reaches a hand out and takes yours, giving you a firm squeeze. “You know even with no magic, you’re our family, right?”

“It’s different.” He starts to protest but you shake your head. “I want to be in a coven and to feel the power of a circle. I want to celebrate and do rituals with you, I want to be a part of something magical. I can’t do that like this, not without the fear of draining everyone.”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll have you either way, you know? We’d still welcome you like this.”

“But I’d never be able to close your circle.” Seokjin nods. He knows the truth of this. “But this ritual requires truth, and there’s some things about me that I’ve never talked to you about. Things about the night I… I could no longer do magic. I want you to be informed, to know what we might find if we do this.”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“A coven and a working circle requires trust and honesty. I can never be one of you if you don’t know me completely.”

He nods. “That is true.”

“I’m going to tell you about the night that my sister died.” He squeezes your hand and nods, but says nothing else. “My sister and I were twins, both blood witches. Unusual enough for our parents and the covenstead to be incredibly proud of us, but not unusual enough for people to be afraid, you know?”

“Twins… That’s incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah,” you agree, throat tight. “We were really fond of the connection too, you know? It was nice to always have someone to rely on who was my perfect balance. We were never-” You take a breath. “Neither was more powerful than the other. There was never any jealousy or overpowering the other. We were always evenly matched.”

“Whenever it would storm,” you continue. “I would go lay in her room. I hated storms but she loved them. I did this countless times up until we were thirteen. I don’t know… Jin, I don’t know what was different that night. I think back to it every single day, what did I do differently, was there an object I touched, a spell I used? And I come up with nothing. But on Beltane when we were thirteen, it was storming. We’d already finished the festival and our parents were out doing their duties and I went and I fell asleep in her room and… and I woke up…”

For a moment, you can’t get the words out. They get trapped in your throat and you stare, unseeing. You imagine the lightning against the window. The warmth of your sister's hands. The tree tap tap tapping against the window with the strength of the wind.

“I drained her in the middle of the night,” you whisper. It’s out now and you can’t stop, can’t look at Seokjin’s face to see his reaction. “I went to sleep as normal and when I woke up, she was freezing and lifeless and I felt more powerful than I ever had before. Like I was this magical battery charged up and sparking.”

For a moment, you pause and look at Seokjin. You expect to see horror or disgust or a variety of negative emotions, but he’s still watching you. Fond. Waiting. No judgment. When he sees you staring, he gives you a tiny smile and a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m still listening.”

“Aren’t you…” You trail off and shake your head. “I killed my sister. Are you not horrified?”

He frowns then. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Yes I did.”

“You weren’t born a siphoner, how could you possibly predict that would ever happen? You didn’t get in that bed with her and then leech her magic, no matter how much it must feel that way. It wasn’t your fault, though I know hearing me say that doesn’t make it feel any less true in here.” He reaches forward and taps your heart lightly. “There is nothing I can say to ease the pain and guilt of that, but what you’re describing to me isn’t the tale of a murderer. It’s the story of someone who had a freak accident, which is more common among the magical community than one might think.”

“I don’t know what happened,” you admit, a tear escaping your eye. Before you can wipe it though, Seokjin’s thumb is there, swiping across your face and collecting it. You watch with wide eyes as he cups your face, looking at you with so much something that your head spins. “But in the morning, I was alive and she was dead. And my parents and everyone else hated me for it. That’s why they treat me the way they do. That’s why my mother stepped down as high priestess, why my parents were driven to grief. Why I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

“How can anyone accept me like this?”

“Because it isn’t what defines you. We are not made up of only the things we do and the things that happen to us, and I promise you, this is something that happened to you.”

“But why? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin admits. “But we’re going to find out, okay?

“What if the others don’t want me?”

“They would never,” he’s quick to say. He’s still holding your face, wiping tears from your eyes. “And if they did, I don’t care. I’d do the ritual myself, just to prove to you that this burden you carry isn’t your fault.”

You crack a grin, despite the dark topic. “Yeah? You’d try and do a circle for you?”

“I would walk through fire for you.”

You pull your face out of his hands and shove him a bit. “Fire is your favorite element, Jin. That’s not impressive.”

His laughter fills the room and he tugs at your hands. You grapple with him as he tries to pull you down, your ache forgotten as you laugh and squeal. “Yah! Let me try and be poetic! It was the first thing that I could think of.”

“You’re a witch, you’re practically impervious.”

Seokjin overpowers you and pulls you down against his chest. Suddenly you’re very close again, your palms pressed against his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through your fingers. You make a surprised sound as he looks up at you, gaze a little darker. A little hazy.

Gently, Seokjin reaches up and brushes his fingers across your chin. It’s featherlight and more intimate than you expect, making you blink in surprise. You’re frozen, limbs stuck and heart racing as you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Suddenly the moment feels different - this feels different.

“Not impervious to you though.”

When he says it, you don’t answer at first. You think you imagine him saying it. That suddenly this has blurred into a fantasy of yours. Perhaps you’re actually asleep, soothing your pain with dreams of Seokjin. Of being like this with him, pressed closed and intimate with his gaze burning.

“What?” you whisper back, unable to string together a better response.

He doesn’t seem offended though, huffing a laugh. “Fire might not get to me,” he says. “You certainly did, though.”

“I don’t…”

“We’re practicing honesty because you’re right. If we’re going to lift this block on you and let you join our circle, there can’t be secrets between us. There’s so much to tell you, but I need you to know before we do this how I feel.”

“How you feel?”

“Yes. As the leader of our circle, it’s my duty to be honest with you and to give you an out. I don’t want you to cast our first circle and suddenly be able to see - feel - how I feel and then there’s no way out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d walk through fire for you - hey, stop laughing at me! Because you are an amazing person. But I would also do it because I have fallen head over heels for you. Chaotically so. Painfully so.”

This is a dream. It has to be, because there is no way that Seokjin is lying under you, face so close to yours, hands gripping your forearms, and staring at you like that, gaze dreamy, smile on his face.

“It’s not a dream,” he laughs, making you realize you’ve said it out loud. “Or perhaps it is a dream and I am once again imagining that I am the hero to your tale, a knight saving you because he likes you and you will let me because you like me. But that would be a silly dream, because you have always been the bravest person I know and you have always refused to be saved.”

“You like me?”

“I do. And it’s okay if you don’t like me back. But I wanted you to know before you step into a circle with us. The others know - can see it light up inside of me every time we cast. But I didn’t want to surprise you with that. Not with this, not when it’s about you. It would have been cruel.”

Seokjin could never be cruel. The word cruel doesn’t even exist in the same plane of existence as this man. This witch who has never done anything but ask if you need help. Who simply enjoys baking things for the community and its visitors, filling every good with magic. A little extra something to make their lives more manageable, more fruitful.

This man, who would have you even as you are in his coven of witches. Even if a circle couldn’t be drawn and salted correctly. Even if they have no use for you. This friend, who has heard what you’ve done - or didn’t do - and looks at you all the same. Doesn’t see a monster or someone terrible, doesn’t see someone capable of murder.

The very thought of Seokjin loving you even as you are is enough to send a shiver through you.

“You know why I thought I was dreaming, right?” you ask him. Seokjin shakes his head, watching your every move. “Because I have dreamed of you saying that often. It was always a comfort to me when I was sad or my longing to have you was intense. I just thought I never could. Wasn’t worthy of it, wasn’t-”

Seokjin moves faster than you can finish your sentence. He surges forward, hands skimming up your arms roughly to cup your face and pull you down to him. He presses his lips firmly to yours and anything you were going to say vanishes, thoughts a wisp of smoke.

Sparks fly quite literally. Seokjin’s magic crackles and you resist to pull it in and consume it, too distracted by the soft feel of his lips. It’s just an innocent press of mouths at first, making your head spin as you realize you’re kissing Seokjin.

Then, he pulls away to look at you, face aglow. You’re a little breathless and reeling when you open your eyes to see his grin.

“You’re worthy of so much more,” he whispers.

There’s no time to respond as he pulls your lips to his again, this time kissing you properly. He tastes sweet, like one of his meringue treats. The slide of his plush mouth against yours makes you dizzy. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping slightly and you become ravenous.

Your tongue brushes against his teeth and he makes a throaty sound, opening up to let you deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping against his. He’s a slow kisser, dragging his tongue against yours and letting you fall fall fall into him.

Seokjin’s hands slide from your face down your shoulders and past them, stopping only at your hips where he squeezes. Your stomach flips at the contact and you twitch a little bit, grinding down into him as his kisses go from languid to a little needier.

“Fuck,” he gasps, head tilting back. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, mouth going to his jaw. You press wet kisses there, messy lips followed by your tongue, leaving a spit-slick trail. His skin makes your tongue tingle, magic vibrating.

He slips his hands under the hem of your shirt and digs his blunt nails into your hips. “You know what?”

Grinning, you bring your mouth up to his. Slowly, you lower your hips so you’re pressed flush to his, rolling them again, this time painfully slow. Your breath catches in your throat at the slow-drag friction, the feeling of him shivering underneath you.

“That?” you ask, breathless against his mouth.

“Enough,” he hisses.

The world spins. Seokjin grabs you and in a single, swift movement sits up and stands, carrying you with him. You squeal, hands shooting to grasp at his shoulders as he walks toward your room. He kicks his shin on the coffee table as he stumbles with you, balance off with the added weight.

He curses loudly and you can’t help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth when his sharp gaze snaps to yours. His eyes are dark dark, hungry and fathomless now as he raises a brow. “Yeah, you’re laughing?”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit.

“You’re gonna be.”

A wild thrill shoots through you as he carries you to the bedroom. You forget how strong he is, muscles flexing as he shifts you again, careful not to drop you. It makes you feel giddy, but you squeak in a moment of terror when he drops you unceremoniously on your bed, the brief moment of freefall startling.

You land with a huff and he grins down at you as he stands up against the edge of the bed, knees squeezing your legs together as he reaches behind his neck to yank at his t-shirt. You watch, slack-jawed as he pulls the material up and over his head in a way that is somehow hot, as benign as it is.

Seokjin is all gold and tan planes, body perfect in the low light of your room as he tosses his shirt. You take a second to admire his broad chest, dark nipples pebbling in the cool room. Dark hair trails from his belly button and vanishes in the waist of his jeans.

Seeking warmth, you reach for him. He leans forward, pressing his palms into the mattress to hover over you, knees placed on either side of your thighs. His muscles jump when you brush your hands up the softness of his stomach toward the harder muscle of his pecs.

It feels like the sun is trapped underneath his skin, burning its way out of him as your fingers explore. You’ve never touched him like this, slow and reverant and full of unbridled desire. He watches you, drinking in the way you take him in. The way you take your time.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, looking up at him. His ears turn red and he rolls his eyes. You grin, dragging your hand up to rest over his chest where his heart thuds wildly beneath your palm. “I mean here, idiot. Yeah you’re hot too, but you’re beautiful in here.”

Unreadable emotion flits across his face. Something like joy and pain - the pain of wanting to hear that for so long, waiting for the admission. You understand the same pain of desire filled so unexpectedly that it hurts.

Seokjin kisses you again and this time with intent. He shifts and slides a knee between your legs, pressing up to the apex of your thighs. You groan and lift your hands, sliding them through his hair. The strands are silky soft and long. You twist your fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him to you as the kiss turns messy.

Whatever this is between you is more magic than you’ve felt in years. You feel breathless as he kisses across your jaw and toward your neck, sucking harshly on the soft skin underneath your ear. You whine and he chuckles, hot breath hitting your ear.

“Why don’t you do that thing you love so much, hmm?” he asks, nipping your ear lobe. “Are you shy now? Don’t wanna grind on me?”

You do want to, but you hesitate. He encourages you, taking a hand and skimming down your waist to your ass, sliding under and squeezing your cheek as he lifts your hips in a motion to grind against him. The friction is good but not nearly enough and you let out a pitiful sound.

“Come on,” he urges. “Do it right, then.”

Fuck. Fuck.

You grind your cunt on his leg properly, planting your feet on the edge of the bed for leverage as Seokjin’s mouth ravages your neck. You’re lost in him, letting your mind go a little empty as you seek friction, needing to relieve the pressure throbbing in your cunt.

Arousal gathers in your stomach and you feel yourself slow-drip into your panties, so turned on by the sudden confidence Seokjin has when kissing you, when telling you to move. This is a side of him you’ve never explored and you dive in head first.

One hand leaving his hair, you grab his hand that’s on your ass as he continues to nip your collarbones, tongue laving over the sting of his bite. He lets you lead him by the wrist, and you guide his hand between your legs where you press his fingers to your zipper.

“Please,” you rasp. “I need more.”

He sinks his teeth into the top of your right breast, tongue tasting your skin. “Is that so?”

“Please. You said you’d walk through fire for me.”

His laugh is loud and he buries his face in your neck. You can’t help but laugh too, pausing your greedy hands in exchange for mirth. “Yeah,” he agrees with a chaste kiss to your throat. “I did say that, huh?”

“Yes, so gimme.”

“Yah. Of course I am.”

Years of friendship have erased any ability to feel awkward with Seokjin but for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll be weird, touching one another like this. Seokjin has no such qualms, unbuttoning your pants and yanking them down your legs with ease.

When he comes back up to lean over you, he doesn’t slot a knee between your legs. Instead, his fingers press firmly to your clothed cunt, a curse falling from his mouth as he feels how damp you are. You’re hot all over and yet you feel hotter still as he circles his fingers gently over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, lids fluttering closed. “Feels good.”

“You’re fucking drenched, all from a little kissing huh?”

“And grinding,” you add.

“Yeah, like a hungry little vixen, huh?” You nod, biting your bottom lip as you get lost in his lazy ministrations and pressure on your clit. It’s relieved some of the ache, but not nearly enough. “I can see on your face you already want more.”

This time, Seokjin doesn’t make you ask for it. He hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them to the side. Immediately you feel cold air against you, but he’s quick to slide his fingers up and down your wet folds, slicking them up to trail back up and circle slowly around your clit.

“Damn you’re fucking wet,” he curses. He leans up a little, eyes fucked out. “Take the rest off for me, baby.”

Baby. It shivers through you and you comply, though a little haphazardly. It’s hard to remove your shirt and bra with the way his fingers are slowly pressing your clit, making you thrash and gasp.

As soon as you lay back down, no shirt and no bra, Seokjin is leaning forward, tongue darting out to flick against a stiffened nipple. You let out a loud moan and he hums in response, attacking his mouth to you and sucking. Fuck it feels good. You arch off the bed and his fingers leave your swollen clit to slide down your sticky mess to circle your entrance.

Gently, he sinks in a single finger. Your eyes roll back a little, pussy fluttering as he strokes your front wall. You’re tingling all over, buzzing with pleasure as he slowly fucks you with his finger, mouth busy plucking at your nipple with his teeth.

You’re lost in it, melted into the bed as Seokjin plays you like a well-tuned instrument. The heel of his palm presses against your clit, providing just enough pressure as he fingers you to send the room spinning on its axis.

He tongue-kisses across your chest, mouth ravenous against your heaving gasps as he finds your other nipple. The tip of his tongue circles, making you keen and squirm underneath him. He watches you with dark eyes, teasing the aching bud before nipping you lightly.

“Sensitive,” he mumbles, dragging spit-slicked lips against your breast. “Can you take another finger?”

You nod eagerly, hungry to be filled. Your orgasm is starting to build slowly, worked up by the way he mouths at you, by the way Seokjin’s fingers reach so deep, pressing against your g-spot as he sinks another into your heat.

“Shit,” you pant. “That feels so fucking good, Jin.”

“Mhmm.” He brings his mouth up to yours and your tongues tangle, teeth clinking together as he fucks you harder, the wet smack of your pussy against his palm loud. “Tight fucking pussy,” he pants, pressing hard against your front wall. Your heels dig into the bed as you try to keep up with the pleasure blooming in your stomach. “Gonna need to fuck you open a little if you’re gonna take me.”

If you’re gonna take me.

The promise of more has you rolling your hips up to meet his hand. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers, dropping his gaze to look between your bodies. Your thighs and his stomach are slick with your juice, leaking around his fingers uncontrollably.

When Seokjin introduces another finger, you hiss. The stretch is hard and it burns. He doesn’t keep thrusting right away, letting your cunt stretch around his three digits. But he’s pressed up against your soft spot, making you see stars as he puts unrelenting pressure on your nerves.

It feels like insanity, the way he does this to you. The way Seokjin buries his face in your neck, your chests pressed together to provide friction against your teeth-marked nipples as he starts to build up a pace again, thrusting.

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper, hands grabbing frantically at his sweaty shoulder blades. Your thighs are shaking and it’s hard to get a breath in. Your voice quakes as you gasp. “Fuck, Jin I’m - ah ah ah.”

“So come,” he says, as if it’s that simple. He puts weight behind the hand fucking you, quickens the pace. Presses so fucking hard you think you might blackout. “If you’re gonna come, then do it.”

And you do. Just like that, nails digging into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, you come around his fingers. He fucks you through it, breath hot in your ear. Your knees squeeze around his hips until you’re spent, collapsing against the mattress, boneless.

Seokjin retracts his fingers. The sudden feeling of being empty makes you huff in protest and he laughs, lifting his face from your neck. You pout up at him and he kisses you again before leaning upward, straddling your legs.

Your eyes zero in on his hands as they undo the top of his belt. His hand is covered in a wet sheen, cum-slicked and sticky. He doesn’t care, popping up the belt and pulling down the zipper of his pants. You grow eager, leaning up as he pulls the waist down, revealing the dark briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is.

With no warning, you reach for his clothed cock, squeezing firmly. He hisses and drops his hands, jeans only pulled halfway down his thighs. Seokjin tips his head back and moans at the ceiling as you lean forward and mouth at the damp spot on his briefs, tasting salt.

“Fuck,” he swears and you grin, pressing and holding the flat of your tongue to the cloth to wet it. “You’re a little slut, huh?”

You hum in agreement. Fingers dancing up his thighs, you pause at the elastic band, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I?”

Seokjin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. He nods, watching and dazed as you peel the elastic down his hips slowly. You lean forward as you do, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone. He twitches and sighs in response.

You look at his cock as it bobs against his stomach, brown tip smearing precum against his navel. You lick your lips and drag your hand up, fingers gripping his velvety shaft. He’s thick and heavy in your hand as you grasp him firmly, stroking upward.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, hips twitching. You grin up at him, swiping a thumb over the crown of his cock to spread the wetness down his shaft. He hums, entranced. “More.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. You lean upwards, pulling the tip of his cock toward your mouth. You slide just the tip into your mouth, suckling generously and running your tongue along the slit. His hand slips to the side of your neck, resting there but not doing anything. It’s a comforting weight as you take him in your mouth properly.

Seokjin is art above you. Chest flushed, mouth open, eyes closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was on his knees at worship. It is a sort of worship, the way you sink down on his cock, lips stretched wide, drool dripping down the side of your mouth and running down your jaw and neck. Is it not the spirit of loving him moving through you? Is this not heaven, looking up at him and seeing someone that has chosen you over and over again?

No pagan ritual in your life as a witch has felt like this. You swallow around him, eyes watering as you choke on his length, pulling back a little to catch your breath. Your hand squeezes him at the base, slick with your spit and his precum. Your mouth is wet and swollen as you lick the underside of his shaft, never looking away from his face.

“Fuck that mouth,” he sighs, eyes opening and looking down at you. He squeezes the side of your neck a little, fingers right against your throat. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I can’t hold out if you keep going. How do you like it?”

Instead of answering him, you pull off of him with a sloppy, wet noise. You make a show of running your tongue along your lips before turning around and crawling up the bed, wiggling your ass a little. Seokjin groans as he sheds his jeans and briefs the rest of the way.

The bed sinks when he crawls behind you. You go down on your elbows, ass up high. He smacks each cheek firmly with both hands, making you yelp as he grips the stinging flesh, squeezing. “You have a good ass.”

“You have a nice dick.”

He laughs loudly at that. Seokjin’s hand skims down to your thighs, grabbing them and pushing them open. You sink a little lower on the bed, face pressed to the sheets and letting your eyes shut. The hair on his thighs sends a shiver up your spine as his legs brush against yours, hands roaming and squeezing your hips, your butt, your thighs.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters. His hands come back over the globes of your ass and sink toward your wet cunt. You moan as his thumbs peel you open, pressing around your clenching hole. “Shit.”

The bed bounces as he moves again and then your eyes are snapping open, fingers twisting in your sheets when you feel the flat of his tongue swipe up your pussy. He hums in delight and you’re reeling, trying to catch your breath as he licks at you.

“Just wanted a taste,” he says, more to himself than you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it a few times and you nearly crumble right there at the unexpected stimulation. He slow-licks up to your hole, tracing it once before retracting his mouth. “I have all the time in the world for you to come in my mouth. Right now I just wanna feel you.”

“Yes, please.”

Your breath gets stuck when you feel the head of Seokjin’s cock catch your entrance. He’s thick, and even though you’re dripping down your thighs and stretched from his fingers, the pressure of him sinking into your heat slowly sends you moaning like a wanton whore, unable to stop the sounds escaping your mouth.

Seokjin is precise, hands holding your hips firmly until he’s fully seated in your cunt, your walls fluttering around him. You feel so full, his cock reaching deep enough to feel in your gut. When he pulls all the way out, you think something is wrong, but he fucks back into you hard.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, feeling the full weight of him spear you. “Holy shit.”

He doesn’t say anything but he grunts, setting a slow but deep pace. His hips snap into you with force, your knees spreading a little bit wider. He leans into it more, moving his hands to press into the small of your back. The full force of his weight pushing your hips into the bed as he slams into you makes you dizzy.

An orgasm starts to build deep in your stomach. You claw at the bed, breaths coming out in a hiss. Seokjin grabs one of your hands, pulling it backward to pin it against your lower back before doing the same to the other. You’re completely pinned under him, pushed so far into the mattress you think you might fade and vanish into foam and sheets.

Nothing here matters but the way he fucks into you, unrelenting, heavy, precise. He says your name and it rolls off his tongue sweeter than any pastry he’s ever made. Your orgasm creeps up on you, shaking and thunderous. It feels stronger than before, a pressure that makes you start to shiver, feet kicking under him.

For a moment, he slows, pulling off you a little. “Okay?”

“Keep going,” you beg him, voice high-pitched and strange to your ears. “Please don’t stop, I’ll tell you if I can’t take it.”

That’s all he needs. He redoubles and this time, changes his direction, hits that spot inside of you head on with his cock and you think you’re going to pass out. You become lifeless under him, unable to do anything but take it. The wave of your orgasm builds and builds and builds until finally, it breaches.

You come for a second time, no noise coming out of you. It’s all white vision and squeezed thighs and ringing ears. You think you feel something like a bolt of lightning, a snap of power so strong as you clench around Seokjin that you taste static in the air.

It’s hard to know how long it lasts. One moment you’re shaking and the next, you’re drifting, feeling weightless and exhausted. The weight of Seokjin’s touch keeps you tethered and from straying too far, but you’re somewhere in between nonetheless.

Slowly, reality drips back to you. You think you may have dozed a little, your eyes dry as you blink them open. Seokjin is lying next to you, arm wrapped around you and eyes closed. He’s not breathing deep enough to be asleep, confirming it when his eyes open, sensing your gaze.

A smile lights up his face and you smile tiredly at him. Your cunt aches and your legs and arms are sore from being pinned, and you’re still a little shaky. Thoughts of your orgasm make you twitch, post-sex tremors that you can’t escape.

“Hi,” you rasp. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think you blacked out.”

“I- what?”

“I sort of…” he frowns. “There was like this electrical snap when I came. You clenched me so fucking hard I just… let go. I think we sort of had a magical orgasm.”

“A magical orgasm.”

He grins. “Just say thank you for the witch orgasm.”

“Ugh.” You smack his chest and he laughs hoarsely.

It did feel like that though. Like a crackle of energy, like being struck by a storm of electricity and heat. You feel tired and heavy-limbed, but you feel sticky and sweaty too. “I need a shower.”

“Mhmm. I was waiting for you to come to.” He starts to sit up. “Come on, I’ll shower you. Then we need to sleep. We have to prepare you for your big day.”

“My big day?”

Seokjin grins as he reaches a hand for you. There’s a spark again when you touch and you hesitate, feeling the well of his magic there. It hums in him, a thunderhead of power and fire. He sees your expressions and softens. “You can’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Baby, I just fucked the everloving shit out of you and you know what you didn’t do?” Your brows pull together and he smiles. “You didn’t pull an ounce of my magic from me. I think you’re a lot better at control than you think you are.”

Licking your lips, you nod and let him pull you from bed. You are good at control. You had to be after your sister. It’s something you’ve practiced nonstop, the unconscious control of your desire for magic. Even when you sleep, you wake up often, fearful of losing your grip on yourself while you slumber.

It hasn’t happened yet. And as Seokjin leads you to the shower, you think… maybe it never will. Especially if the ritual goes right. Especially if you can get your magic back.

Perhaps for the first time since you were thirteen, you feel a sliver of hope. When you look at Seokjin and you feel your heart stutter, you know that even without your magic, you’ve found something.

“Oh for the love of the land,” Yoongi groans when you appear in the basement of Seokjin’s home. “Look at the two of you.”

Everyone swivels to look at you and Seokjin, who are hand-in-hand. You freeze, pulling up short to take in the candle-lit room and the six other men who are all looking at you with equal parts happiness and a little bit of amusement.

You shift from foot to foot and chew your lip. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run back up the stairs and away from the watchful eyes of your friends - of Seokjin’s coven members. But Seokjin holds your hand tight, tugging you down the rest of the stairs into the gloom of the room.

Perhaps gloom isn’t the right word. The room is much too warm and smells of sage and thyme, a good feeling if not a little overwhelming. Outside this house, there is an entire festival going on at the park. The covenstead witches were furious when Seokjin let them know that he and his six would not be participating this year, as they had private matters to attend to.

It’s common for covens to use the holiday for something specific. Perhaps to bless a witch in need, or to strengthen a spell, or to defeat some evil. You remember that night that your parents left you alone for Beltane duties to fight and remove Dissenters, and how that turned out for you.

Magic hums all around you. It’s in the sigils on the ceiling of Seokjin’s sanctum and it’s in the ley lines that you can feel now more than ever as the veil between worlds thins. Each member of the coven has magic humming in their veins, a sort of signature taste and feel to it. You sense Yoongi’s deep shadows and Namjoons vibrant green, taste Jimin’s clean water and feel Hoseok’s pure air. Taehyung and Seokjin are the flickering flame that fills the room with light and heat, and Jungkook’s crackling storm greets you in the corner.

It’s hard to imagine where you fit in with them. But they don’t have a blood witch, who is all of these things wrapped into one. You know that they support you. The eight of you have gone over the ritual what feels like a hundred times at this point, perfecting it and making sure you know it inside and out.

The two rituals are wildly different. One to seek and find the source of your pain, led by Yoongi and Hoseok. Yoongi’s shadows and connection to the other side will help seek answers and provide clarity on whatever signs and hints come through the vision you’re supposed to have, and Hoseok’s strength with air will help keep you protected and clear of any negative energy.

Then, a small spell to build a bridge between the two rituals that Namjoon will handle with Jimin. Namjoon has it down to a science and has previously used it to link spells, and his affinity for earth will ground the entire circle. Jimin’s skill with water is to help guide you from ritual to ritual with ease and clarity.

It’s the second half of the ritual that’s the most demanding, which is why it’s Taehyung and Jungkook conducting the destructive half, breaking whatever stands between you and your magic. Two warriors meant to sever your block or the target of your curse, whichever it may be.

And it’s possible that you’re cursed. You have briefly spoken about what that means. About what to do. It will most likely mean something damaging and life-threatening for whoever did curse you, if you forcefully try to shatter it instead of finding the cause.

But there’s also potential for you to be harmed if the two of them try to break it and it’s too strong. It’s a risk that you have to assess in the moment, which is terrifying. You want to do it anyway, and you’re happy to find that they support you. That they’re there for you.

Coven members already, really.

All seven of them are dressed to perform a ritual. Dark robes, anointed element symbols in dark ash on their brows. Yoongi has a small circlet around his head, making you pause and tilt your head as you glance at Seokjin. He sees your confusion and smiles. “Yoongi is our high priest tonight,” he murmurs. “He will start and end the circle so I can be here with you.”

Yoongi is blushing and looking up at the ceiling when you turn back to him. For him to step up and hold the circle as the beginning and end is a huge risk on him. He’ll be providing the most magic and taking on the most risk second only to you, all so that Seokjin can move freer and have more control.

“Yoongi is a very powerful witch, as you know,” Seokjin murmurs, steering you to the center of the room. “He holds circles for a lot of our rituals when we feel he’s better suited.”

“Which is often,” Yoongi mutters at the ceiling where he keeps his gaze.

“Yah, shut up, hag. Everyone get in their places.”

Seokjin puts you in the very center of the room. There is a pentagram chalked in powder, but there is no glow to it, no light to signal that it’s being used. He squeezes your shoulders and you look at him, wide eyed and afraid. His smile is warm and a little nervous, but he leans in and kisses you once.

“Trust us,” he says. “This will be hard on you. But we’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t break the circle,” he reminds you. “If you have to break, do it when Namjoon is at the middle part and before we start the second ritual. He will open the circle a little, but it’ll be just for a moment before the second is started and locked.”

“Right. Ten second escape if I need to.”

“You only have that window if we need to stop. Once we start the second, there is no stopping until the full ritual is complete.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck,” Seokjin whispers and kisses you on the brow. “I’ll be right here.”

With a deep breath, he steps to the side and grasps your hand. The two of you stand alone in the middle, you and your anchor. Silence settles over the room. You haven’t been in the middle of a circle since you were a little girl receiving her first welcome into the coven. You had done that with your sister by your side and your mother at the head of the circle.

Now, you’re with Seokjin, with Yoongi at the head of the circle. Yoongi doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but you sense his calming aura even from where he stands at the first point of the circle. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes, lifting his palms upward. “I stand at north, the beginning and end, start this circle, spirit ascend.”

You feel the ripple of magic in the room. Fire crackles at Yoongi’s feet, making you flinch. You watch as the red flames lick toward Hoseok, who is quick and light as he murmurs, “I stand northeast, to cleanse and protect, continue the circle, spirit to the next.”

You watch the flame as it sparks to life, moving clockwise around the room. Every time a member joins the circle, you feel the power thrum through the room, the pentagram beneath your feet beginning to glow. The flame comes all the way back around to Yoongi and he closes it, eyes opening and looking right at you.

Yoongi looks different than before, eyes shadowed and full of stars. “Begin,” he commands, voice like a thousand whispers.

A little spike of fear goes through you as Hoseok begins to chant. You recognize the Latin immediately but your unpracticed ears lose trace of the meaning. It’s picked up slowly in the room and you feel your palms slick with sweat as the light of the pentagram pulses beneath your feet, the flames flickering around the feet of the coven members.

Yoongi’s voice picks up the chant like you’ve never heard him before. It’s uncanny and you lean into Seokjin, who squeezes your hand and looks down at you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “This happens when he leads a circle. Veil is thin.”

Nodding your head, you turn to the front again, feeling the itch to pull power from the circle, to draw their magic into you. There’s so much of it filling the room, an open tap of water spilling into the sink. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, worried that you won’t be able to resist, worried that you’re going to pull from the magic and-

A wave of dizziness hits you. You gasp and bend over, hand circling your middle as though you’ve just been punched. Seokjin’s hands are on your back but you can’t hear him, a high-pitched ringing drowning out the sound of his voice. For a second, you’re lost in the sensation of having the air sucked from your lungs and the whine in your ears getting higher and higher.

Just when you think that your ear drums will burst, the ringing stops. There is a hushed whisper filling your ears and you still can’t catch your breath. The room spins a little and when you look up expecting to see Yoongi, all you see is dark trees and a blurry shadowy… building. Something.

The whispers creep up on you. There are so many of them, hundreds - no, thousands - of voices brushing against you, dragging their fingers along your skin, touching you, hissing, singing, screaming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced and their words are jumbled, sliding over one another.

Terror begins to claw at you. You try to remain calm, remembering that these are not the voices of spirits or something evil. Hoseok is commanding this ritual, an element of purity and guidance. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.

With faith in your future coven member, you try to focus on the voices. Try to decode them. Namjoon warned you that the messaging might be confusing. That you might not follow or understand what it’s saying. Symbols, images, key words. You need to reach for anything that seems like something, that can point to the origin of your block and follow it.

Yoongi’s presence presses at the back of your mind. It startles you at first, to feel who you know is innately Yoongi. You follow the press of whatever he’s doing and you catch a few words that fly by you: little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. Little hut little hut.

Unsure what it means, you cling to that. Little hut. It means something… you remember something about it. Yoongi’s presence fades away, satisfied that you’ve picked up on whatever it is he sees or senses.

Flipping through memories, you try to remember why a hut might mean anything to you. There were no huts by your town… nothing that you can remember no one you know of.

Little hut, little hut.

One memory sticks with you. Your sister playing in the background, hopscotching to a little tune that Mila down the street whispered to her about a witch in the woods.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Yes, you think. A rhyme about a witch who lived in the woods. More thing than witch, really. A shadowy being that took the shape of a hut, a creature of magic and curses that could be found in the darkest part of the woods when the veil is thin.

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

You see it now. The blurry shape of a house that’s not really a house. The witch in the wood was a blood witch once, it was said. A witch who had long since dissented and practiced arcane magic, following a path that led her here. That led her to this. A thing of the woods.

It occurs to you the weight of the appearance of her. This hut in the woods. Yoongi’s flippant remark about you being cursed is suddenly real.

Dread drops down in your stomach like a weight. You can’t hear anything beyond the rhyme, the chant to find the witch of the woods. You’re cursed, you realize. All the fear that your condition was self-inflicted, that it was your fault, that this was something you did.

This is something that happened to you, Seokjin had said.

And he was right. Someone cursed you - did this to you. A child.

Out there in the world, there is someone responsible for the death of your sister. Someone who took your magic, who turned you into a leech. The reason for your family's pain, the reason for them throwing you away. For your father and mother being driven mad, for the town turning against you.

You think about the rock that hit you just days ago. Thrown by a child taught to hate you. Taught that it was okay to hurt you because it was you. The town siphoner. A witch who couldn’t make her own magic, a parasite.

Anger wells up inside of you and you latch onto the rhyme swirling around your head, clawing through it. This is the thread you must follow to find your curse giver. This is the clue.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Dully, you are aware that Seokjin is next to you. You see him from the corner of your eye but it’s not Seokjin at all. Well - not as you now know him. This Seokjin is younger - a teenager by the looks of it. He’s not doing anything except staring out into the darkness. He fades in and out like a bad TV picture, glitching and blurring. But you know it’s him.

His face is different though. Twisted in grief and pain, a frozen picture of angst. You imagine this is what you looked like when your sister died, a tableau of hurt and hate.

Little hut, little hut

I call to thee

Little hut, little hut

Come to me

The Seokjin in front of you fades away. You reach out for him but your hands cut through empty air and darkness. He’s not really there and you have a hard time grasping the meaning of this. The voice sounds almost like Seokjin but not quite. Not as mature.

Young Seokjin doesn’t show up again. You can feel the real Seokjin somewhere in the mess of the vision and the darkness, but you can’t hear him. Can’t see him. There is only the omnipresent darkness of the hut and the whispers of voices.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

There’s a flash of lightning. A storm in the darkness, splashes of purple and blue electricity. You cover your eyes as you hear thunder, low and soft somewhere. Across from you, your sister appears. She’s a fraternal twin who looks nothing like you except in the eyes. Your eyes look right back at you.

She’s the same age she was when she died. When you took her magic away. When you were cursed. She looks the same age as the apparition of Seokjin, and you try to understand. To make the connection from what you're seeing as the lightning lances again like it did that fateful night.

The rhyme keeps circling in a hurricane of whispers.

As the ritual comes to a close, the vision begins to fade. You’re no better off than where you started and in a panic, you reach for the vision of your sister. You just want to hold her one last time, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But she isn’t real and she fades as Hoseok’s chanting falls to a murmur and then to a whisper, the air returning to normal. You can breathe again, and as you look up from where you’re bent over, you see Seokjin kneeling on the ground in front of you, holding you by the shoulders. His face is swimming with fear and concern, gaze searching.

Seokjin looks so much like his younger self. He’s matured into his face and is a handsome man, but he was a cute teenager. His face now is full of love and concern, but you think about his face in your vision. Twisted in pain and years.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

You straighten up suddenly, knocking him over on his ass as you do so. It feels like you’ve been slapped as you stare at him, a sudden buzz in your ears as you stare and stare and stare. The ritual comes to an end and Namjoon opens the circle - a foot in the door, more like - and begins to start his spell for Taehyung and Jungkook to weave the new ritual into the circle.

Without thinking about it, you dash for the edge of the circle. Seokjin yells but you’re fast, surging between Namjoon and Jimin where the door exists. Namjoon’s head snaps to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Close it and close the circle,” you pant.

“I-”

“Close the fucking circle!”

Seven pairs of eyes look at you then. They hesitate for a moment, the flames around them wavering. You can feel the power licking at their heels and something like rage shudders through you. You don’t know where to channel it yet and you begin to pace as Namjoon recloses the circle and turns to Yoongi.

Slowly, Yoongi begins to finish the ritual. They work backward from Yoongi to Jungkook to Taehyung to Jimin. You don’t look at them, wringing your hands as you pace back and forth, heart reaching a wild beat.

Images fly by. The hut, the whispers, Seokjin’s face, the thunderstorm, your sister.

The narrative isn’t straightforward. You don’t quite understand the rhyme, or its function, but the second half sounds bad, sounds perhaps like a plea. A bargain. A need for a curse. You recall the thunderstorm on the night of Beltane, the way your sister watched with wide eyes while you sought her out. You think of Seokjin’s affinity for fire and storms, the way he can command thunder just by being upset. You think of his face, so full of pain and hate.

Finally, they finish the circle. Seokjin rushes to you, hands outstretched and a question on his mouth but you jerk away from him.

“Did you curse someone?” you demand, making him pull up short. He opens and closes his mouth. The silence in the room is deafening. You can hear your own heartbeat, pulse throbbing in your ears. “Seokjin, did you curse someone?”

“I… what does that have to do with-”

“Little hut, little hut. Hear my strife. Little hut, little hut. Ruin this life.”

Three things happen then. The first is Seokjin’s confusion as he shakes his head, lost as to why you’re repeating a rhyme back to him. Then a flicker of memory followed by the drain of color on his face. He straightens up, blanched and shaking his head back and forth as he takes a step away from you.

“No,” he says and takes another step back. “That’s not right, I didn’t curse you.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t curse you,” he says again. He seems lost in it though, like he’s saying it to himself. Yoongi takes a step toward Seokjin and he holds out a hand, warding Yoongi off. “I cursed the witches responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t curse you.”

“You cursed someone?” Taehyung hisses from across the circle. “And you never thought to mention it in preparation for this?”

“Shut up, Taehyung,” Seokjin snaps. “I didn’t curse her. I did go into the woods that night to find the hut witch and I cursed the people responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t even know you then.”

“Did you give a name? What did you say?”

“I didn’t know their names!” He answers, frantic and looking at you pleadingly. “I didn’t - no. I remember it, I shared my blood with her, to show the memory. I saw their faces, but I didn’t know their names. We were -” his voice cracks and he clutches his hands against his chest, tears in his eyes. “I was so afraid when they came. We’d been going from town to town, trying to get away. My parents wanted to go back home, overseas. We just had to get there and then these witches, they came and blew down the door and they killed them.”

“So you cursed them based on a memory?”

“Yes,” he insists. “Baby, I didn’t curse you. How could I? How would I?”

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

“Seokjin.” You say his full name, voice ringing and calmer than you feel. Your stomach is in knots and you feel your mouth water, hinting at the nausea working its way up your throat. “Did you ask the blood witch in the hut to ruin the lives of the witches who killed your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Were your parents Dissenters killed on the night of Beltane?”

A long stretch of silence takes up the space between you. You stare at Seokjin and he becomes a stranger. Become another person on the street that looks at you with hate. Another face in the dozens of the town who don’t care if you exist.

When Seokjin says nothing, it says everything. The final piece of information slots its way in and you feel like you’re going to crack open like an egg and spill out. Gooey and yolk-yellow.

“That was why there was a storm,” you whisper. “Because you were angry and upset, wherever it was that you were. And you cursed my family. Not my parents. Our entire family. That’s why I lost my magic and siphoned my sister to death. That’s why my parents were driven to madness and their eventual end. It’s why everyone hates me. You cursed me with ruin.”

“I…” Seokjin shakes his head but can’t make the words come out.

There is no way out now. You get everything picture perfect for the first time. It’s the perfect curse, really. Driving your family to ruin in different ways. Pushing you, the final member of the family, to the person you would eventually fall in love with, to the person that cursed you.

You can’t break it. Not knowing that it’s most likely at the cost of Seokjin’s life. Giving his blood to the witch was a terrible thing. She used it to cast the curse and likely to bind it to him. Which means if you want your magic, you must kill Seokjin.

Instead of standing there to consider the possibility, you turn and run. He tries to run after you but someone stops him. He has his coven to comfort him for what he’s done and you have nothing and no one. Just how you started.

Your runaway is messy. Tripping over thresholds, slipping down stairs. Night stretches over the world and the air is thrumming with energy. You think it would be so easy to tap into, to take and take and take the magic around you that echoes from the Beltane festivals. Would anyone even notice if you took a little?

Still, you don’t. Hot tears blind you as you stumble into the woods behind Seokjin’s house. It’s not the best shortcut when you’re distraught and overcome with tears, but you think you can get to your apartment building by memory alone.

Around you, the world grows darker and quieter. Eventually, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and sniffling as the tears freefall. Something prickles on your skin and you slow your tangled escape to look around you.

The woods are unfamiliar. At least, they seem darker and hazier, like you’re somewhere that looks like the woods behind Seokjin’s house but isn't quite right. You’re more careful as you move forward, one foot in front of the other.

A breeze cools the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, feeling more like a finger running down your spine than the actual wind. A whisper of noise wisps by you and you stop, frowning. Trying to grasp the words as they float by, indiscernible.

You start walking again, following the sound of a voice that is always just a little too far ahead. A little too soft spoken for you to make out the words. When you do manage to catch up, you hear a soft little rhyme.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Something like a high-pitched wail rings out behind you. Your limbs lock and goosebumps explode over your arms and legs as you slowly crane your neck to look in the direction that you came. There’s no clear path, just tangled trees and darkness.

A soft buzz tingles along your skin. You sense the magic, static that you can’t hear but you can feel and taste on your tongue. Slowly, you turn back to face the direction you’re walking. There is a tiny little stream in front of you, trickling and black.

Carefully, you step over it. Your hands quake. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck and your upper lip, your mouth trembling as you see the vague shape of a hut. Or perhaps it's just the idea of a hut, with a hole for a door that looks endless. Void. Dark.

You think about your sister. See her face swimming in front of you, so full of life. Then it drains of color as you bleed her dry and steal everything from her. Every drop, turning her from a beautiful girl full of the sun and the sky into a husk.

You clench your fists.

Vengeance can’t bring her back. Vengeance can’t make them love you. But it can take away this fucking hurt inside of you, the pain that you have carried for so long that it feels like a wound that will never close. So you decide to take a page out of Seokjin’s book.

“Little hut, little hut,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Feel my ache. Little hut, little hut, make him break.”

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