#[ maybe not enough to panic or throw things around bUT HE WILL CLENCH HIS FISTS AND YELL LOUD ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU CRY ]

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT3 | pt2 | pt1 |

apparently simon wasn't the only one who loved your scent.

other males had been trespassing on his territory, coming dangerously close to his den. to you.

simon tried to make his scent more pronounced. to keep them away. to keep his bunny safe.

fortunately, so far, no one had been brave enough, to deliberately come after you. and simon thought that nobody would be.

until that day.

simon had left for water that evening. he wouldn't have been gone for long. it was always risky to leave you alone, without his protection. but simon promised to be quick.

unfortunately, that was enough time for him.

you shouldn't have been so naïve. so stupid. you should've stayed vigilant. but you were just cleaning the den. you didn't feel threatened. you felt safe.

heavy thumps on top of the den. that's what you heard first. you looked up, a little bit of dirt fell down from the den ceiling, and dropped on your head. it must be simon. it has to be. right?

but then. there was slow struggling at the den's entrance. you couldn't see it, it was behind a curve. but you could hear it. simon didn't have to struggle to get inside. it was his den after all, it was just big enough, to let him inside.

maybe he was just struggling with the water. yeah. it's simon, you tried to reassure yourself.

"s-simon...?" your voice was meek, scared, unsure. you've stopped messing with the nest, now only focused on the noises coming from the den's entrance.

the obvious struggles at the entrance stopped.

why? simon would give you an answer, wouldn't he?

the weather was beautiful. there was only few clouds covering the blue sky. the sun glared down, hot and bright. it made the snowbanks sparkle beautifully.

the hot light made the snow melt away, uncovering calm, small rapid. the clear water ran over the rocks underneath it's surface. only more and more snow kept melting into the water, small droplets falling down from the melting ice, and snow.

simon knelt by the river. filling a carved, wooden bucket, with the cold, refreshing water.

he had to keep himself, and the bunny hydrated, after all.

the bucket filled pretty quickly, and simon was ready to head back to the den.

the snow crunched under his steps. simons hot breath came out as steam, as it hit the cold air. frost was starting to form on the tips of his hair.

the wolf's movements stilled, as smell hit his nose. a musk. another male.

simon dropped the water filled bucket, and began to run. you were alone. hopefully you were alone.

but he wasn't there to protect you. oh, god.

panic flared inside simon, his heart beating out of his chest.

the den was just a rocks throw away from the river. simon was quickly there. that didn't calm him down. somebody was kneeling at the den's entrance, trying to dig in. trying to get to his bunny.

simon panted heavily as he approached. the trespasser heard him coming. with a smirk on his face, the intruder turned around, to look at simon. simon's hands clenched into fists, his skin turning white.

he gritted his teeth. "mace." the wolfs voice resembled a growl.

here this bear was, trying to steal his bun. simon knew him, a territorial rival. and now he was attempting to take his fucking mate. his mate. his.

the black bear chuckled darkly, as he stood up.

"can smell her... you're hiding a sweet thing in there..."

"time for you to go, mace." simon grumbled.

mace grinned. "i'll leave you be, for now."

he walked down from the den's entrance, towards simon.

"might wanna keep her in there. never know when she's going to get snatched up."

mace's shoulder knocked against simon's, when he walked past him.

simon was fuming. his whole body moved, as he took heavy breaths.

the wolf listened, until the sound of footsteps faded away, before rushing to the mouth of the den.

"bun? come here." he called out, into the tunnel.

he had to wait a moment, before he saw your head sticking out of the hole.

simon sighed. "come here..." he signaled for you to come closer with his hand. slowly, and hesitantly, you crawled to the entrance of the den, where he was waiting for you.

"you okay, bun?" simon mumbled, his hand gently holding your cheek. after a meek nod of your head, simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

simon leaned away, and gently guided you back down into the den, following suite after you. once you were down in the nest, simon made sure to hold you tight against his chest.

"you know that I would never let anything happen to you. you know that, don't you, bunny?" the wolf murmured into your ear, his free hand slowly making it's way down your stomach.

"what can i do to calm you down, huh? you're still shaking." his hot breath hitting your ear. simon was being sneaky. before you even knew it, his calloused fingers, pinched your nub.

he chuckled at the squeal you let out. his fingers began to gently massage your little clit.

"i'll never let that happen again. okay?" his voice got more serious, and his touch harder. your legs kicked out at the increasing pressure on your sensitive clit.

his touch didn't relent. it only got more determined.

determined to distract you from the scary situation, you had to go through.

determined to make you feel good.

the feeling was foreign. his touch was so tough, just like him. but his words were so sweet. the pressure in your belly grew. your breathing got heavier. simon noticed. with a wicked smirk on his face, his movements got faster.

"give it to me. c'mon bunny... i know you want to." he so meanly teased.

it just suddenly hit you. your legs tensed up, and your breath hitched. luckily, simon decided to show you mercy. he helped you get down from your bliss, before pulling his hand from in between your sweet thighs. your juices coated his fingers. simon grinned at the sight.

the bunny was now completely limp in his arms, panting and exhausted. simon wiped his dirty fingers against the fur on your stomach. simon's hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

"go to sleep, bunny..." he murmured quietly, laying you against his side. his arms rested around you, in a protective hold. he couldn't even imagine how scary it must've been for you, being trapped down here, with no way out, while somebody was trying to crawl inside.

but just as he promised, simon would never let it happen again.

authors note: that poor bucket, alone in the cold forest :(

heart divider by @roseschoices

taglist (honestly i'm pretty lost who's on it and who isn't😭):

@famouscattale @nappingmoon @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @distinguishedprincesstrash @yourfavreggie @rorowingaboat @limeleag @sushiumex @aldis-nuts (won't find it sorry) @the-palelady

COMMENT TO GET ON THIS TAGLIST 😠

[chaotic-iguana]

Sleep

Summary: Reader suffers from lack of sleep, caused by a recent event. As she continues to overwork herself, she reaches her breaking point with near disastrous results. Starring concerned!steve murphy, chaotic idiot!steve murphy and clueless!reader. javi has my fucking heart though.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no use of y/n though)

Rating: M

Wordcount: 2.2k 

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, sort of a panic attack, mild MILD allusions to someone being creepy (not javi though), mild flirting, humour, lots of swearing sorry

this is my first fic - let me know your thoughts! check me out on ao3

masterlist.

“I swear to fucking god Murphy, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg against the table, I’m slamming your head right into it” is the gospel that flows out of your mouth at 7 am on a Monday morning. Feels like it’s gonna be a great week.

“The hell did I do? You’d think Connie’s cookies would be enough to get you animals off my back, but no, first sign of any damn fire an’ the first person you’d throw in?” Steve huffs. “Murphy”, he repeats mockingly. You scoff and roll your eyes at him, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to talk yourself down from strangling the idiot situated two feet to your left before turning back to the paperwork in front of you. The one-foot-tall, monster stack of paperwork. Right. In. Front. Of. You. And would the golden boys ever do it themselves? If they ever got a moment’s relief from jacking each other off during missions (or however the hell they manage to fumble practically every single little op), maybe. But most of the time, you were stuck with it. Because god forbid the two princesses you were partnered with ever had to so much as lift a pen themselves. Hell would freeze over.

And it isn’t like you mind. At all, really. Half your job is the paperwork, and you’re happy to get it in order - if only to avoid Noonan’s wrath. Besides, what good is an agent if they can’t do their fucking job? In its entirety; not the half-assed shit most of the men did around the embassy. But a single glimpse of yourself in the mirror while rushing to leave the house revealed that these past few weeks of skipping lunch breaks, going home late, and taking files home to work on have been catching up with you - sunken, bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, and bruises smudged under your eyes now, perpetually, since the nightmares had started. Anything to keep you busy, right?

Another aggravating side effect of the amount of work you had taken on apart from the usual? The constant irritation. Marlene’s new nails, Katie’s suspicious last lay, the stupid fucking demon alarm clock that never quite managed to wake you up, the busted tire, the broken coffee machine, Dave from accounting’s downright idiotic whistling, your pen running out of ink, and finally - Murphy’s bouncing knee banging the table every fucking millisecond, practically in tune with the pounding ache beginning to form between your brows. If you were a better person, you’d let these things go. Such is life, right? But since the lack of sleep, the increased workload and general mishappenings had already created this beautiful trifecta of shit just to screw you over, better people could go fuck themselves. As could Murphy. “Don’t use your wife’s cooking as an excuse. I’m telling you, make another sound and die.” you spit out, whirling in your chair because the incessant fucking banging still hasn’t stopped - just in time to catch Peña sauntering in, already smirking.

“Already nailing Murphy’s balls, cariño? Careful, I’ll fall in love, baby.” You can hear the laughter in his crooning voice as he throws it over his shoulder - but you don’t care - can’t care, beyond the spots that seem to be forming at the edges of your vision. Were your fingers always a bit tingly? Or is that a new development, like your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, like you’re choking on it? But even though your thoughts feel slow and weighed down by molasses, rage sparks brighter in your mind as Peña’s flirty nicknames and bullshit teasing registers. You push away from your desk, and shoot up from the chair, striding towards the door to get some air - or you try to - because before you know it, your vision is blinded by white and you’re breathing quick, shallow breaths as you lay on the ground trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Distantly, you can hear someone calling your name but it sounds so far away you barely even register it. Hands wrap around your wrist, your head, attempting to stabilize you, to ground you, as you flail wildly in a panic. A low hum begins to fill your senses, forming words that sound to fuzzy to understand or care about right now, but you lean into it, something in your being telling you it’s safe.

When your sight clears, you’re curled up on the on the floor trembling. Shaking, like a scared fucking child, while Peña kneels to hold you to his chest, repeating the same few phrases over and over: “You’re okay, it’s okay hermosa. You’re safe. Safe. No ones gonna hurt you, it’s over now, okay?” as Murphy stands next to him, watching with panic and a hint of sympathy in his gaze. You scramble away from them both, panting, nearly slipping in your effort to get to your feet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, pretty. You’re okay” Peña repeats his assurances with his hands held out, palms facing you, as you stand on wobbling knees, wiping at your face.

“‘M fine” is all you whisper to them hoarsely before ducking your head and rushing out of the pathetically cramped room you three work in. You can hear footsteps behind you, but can’t find it in you to turn around - not even at the panicked sounds of your name being called by a familiar voice. You’re making a scene, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s all too much, and you’re too far gone. Reaching the parking lot, you struggle to unlock your car as your trembling fingers drop the keys twice. Swearing, you resolve and pick them up again, pressing them and reaching for the door. But just before your fingers find the handle another hand - much, much larger than yours - splays out on the window to stop you, just as Peña’s signature bedhead comes into view. He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth tucked low at the corners, like he’s disappointed. You want to melt, you do, because the melting pot of emotions you have for him make you preen at his worry - but your usual defense mechanisms humble you. And so you sharpen your claws, flash your fangs, and the hackles raise again, leaving a “What, Peña?” to come tumbling out in a tone so sharp it makes you flinch. HIs frown just deepens as his gaze rakes over your form frantically, as if checking for injury. He says nothing, pursing his lips further before snatching your wrist and tugging you behind him as he stalks to his car, opening the side door. You raise a brow at him, and he counters by jerking his head towards the car, scowling slightly. You get in, slightly confused, and wait for him to walk around and get into the drivers seat. “What the fuck, Peña? I just fainted, I’m not senile. And I don’t give a shit how mad you are, you can’t just-just drag me to your car and f-force me to get in. The fuck are you playing at?” you begin to ramble, fury somehow still rising at a dizzying speed. Peña doesn’t respond, just starts driving while looking straight ahead while you continue fumbling over a panicked rant so pathetic it sounds nonsensical to your own ears. “…And what? You just enjoy calling me s-stupid nicknames? You think it’s cute to flirt with me while I’m- while I pass out?” This one makes his nostrils flare, eyes darkening a bit while his jaw tightens just for a second before letting go. You pause for a second, getting your breath while your hands still shake in your lap. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Can I just go home please? I’ve already done the month’s paperwork for all the ops we have planned, and you can just give me the rest post-op. I’m just a bit under the weather, I just need to lie down for a bit.” you start trying to reason, but the stubborn ass just keeps driving, and alarm starts bubbling in your chest again. You look down to your lap while you fiddle with your thumbs, willing to control the irrational fear yelling at you that something’s wrong every second Peña chooses to stay silent.

“Think I was flirting with you while you passed out? Y’think I don’t see it, you working yourself to the fucking bone? Think I can’t see how you’ve stopped eating, honey? Stopped laughing like you used to? Think I don’t know how late you’ve starting going home? As ‘f I’ll ever stop waitin’ for ya to clock out first so I know you’re home okay, baby. You gotta tell me what’s wrong - this is eatin’ you up.“

Peña’s tone softens, but his harsh whisper makes you turn your head to look at him. He sounds so…tortured, as if he’s the one suffering. He glances your way, locking eyes with you for a second before turning his head back to the road. You sit there and practically gape at him, your jaw slack as your head whirls. Peña knows? No, wait, he waits? For you to go home so you’re safe? He cares? What the fuck? Confused, all that comes out of your mouth is a mighty elegant open-mouthed “huh?” before you blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You gotta know by now, sweetheart. Gotta see how I’ve been lookin’ at you. You’re the smartest fuckin’ agent I’ve seen, with the balls to take down men I’d sweat to be ‘n the same room with. You swear like a sailor, an’ make me laugh till I’m chokin’ on my own damn cigarette. Tell me what’s hurtin’ you, honey. I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can swear to you I’ll damn well try my best.” He responds, turning to hold your gaze as his own eyes widen, and his brows turn down. Puppy eyes, you think. 

Your brain has gone from hazy to too fucking clear in a matter of five minutes, and now it feels like your thoughts are gonna come ripping out of your head. So you just blink at him, again, before reaching an unsteady hand out to cup his cheek. “I’m okay, I swear. Just-you remember that deal I had to cut last month? With the sicario? For intel on that lab?” Peña nods, and you continue. “Fucker led me to a dead end. Ambushed me. O-only got out ‘cause his gun jammed, and his child-soldier ran away. I just-this is so fucking dumb I’ve been in worse but- I can’t get it out of my head. The shit he said to me, the way he looked at me, t-touched me. I should be dead or worse, Peña. And I nearly was.“ you look down again, ashamed of the truth that’s spilling out of your mouth. It’s so small, so weak, you just want to fold into yourself and never come out. Your voice wobbles towards the end, tears filling your eyes as you turn your head away from the man you’ve wanted for so long to save whatever dignity you still have left. “‘N I can’t sleep anymore. Just see- or feel him every time. So thought I’d work for a bit. Clearly didn’t fucking work out, though.” small hiccups have started to punctuate your words, testament to the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Peña pulls up to an unfamiliar building and turns to you.

“‘S Javi, honey. Look at me, pretty baby.” He cradles your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to turn your head towards him. “None of that was stupid, okay? Come lie down at my place. I’ll sit in a damn chair next to you and fight him away if he comes in your dreams, sweetheart, okay? Nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Never letting any fuckers near you again.” Javi leans in to brush a kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the car and hooking his index and middle finger to beckon you too. You step out of the truck and towards him, smiling while swiping at your face. “Didn’t know this was what the girls meant every time they bragged about sleeping with you” you snark softly, with a teasing grin on your face as you reach him. Javi rolls his eyes playfully before unlocking the door.

“Ain’t gotta do no sleepin’ you don’t want to, honey. You’re here to get some rest. Be a good girl and sleep f’me, and I’ll keep you up for as long as you like after,” he  throws over his shoulder with a matching grin and a wink.

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 10 - A Little Family (Final Chapter)

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 9 (Previous Chapter)

---

Chapter 10 - A Little Family (Final Chapter)

Chapter word count: 3.7k words

You woke up a while later, not being able to remember much but a hazy encounter with your ex and the voice of the doctor muffled by the loud ambulance’s siren that was still ringing in your ears the moment you opened your eyes again.

Your room was empty, and the only other sounds in it were your breathing and the beeping of an EKG monitor you were apparently connected to. There was a dull pain in your abdomen that turned sharp when you tried to move, making you slightly grimace, but other than that, nothing felt out of place.

The fog in your brain was quick to dissipate, though, and soon, panic began taking over you. Your eyes searched around the room briefly for any familiarity, which you were unable to find. It was just a hospital room.

You continued looking around until you saw your target: the remote control that would summon a nurse, you hoped.

It was just within your reach on a nightstand next to the hospital bed, and you had to stretch your arm to get to it, which amplified the pain in your abdomen. Still, you were successful, and found the button you needed to press, and soon enough, a nurse came with haste.

“Good afternoon!” She chirped. She had too much energy, and – wait, did she say afternoon?

That’s weird. You thought. The last thing you remembered was the clock indicating 8PM.

Has another day already passed?

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” You started but found it hard to keep going for some reason, and your hand instinctively reached towards your stomach, and once again, nothing felt out of place. It didn’t seem any deflated.

Maybe you’ve dreamed of your water breaking, and you just passed out due to the shock of having your ex abuse you once again.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. Your baby girl is healthy, even if she came a bit early!” The nurse approached you and patted your shoulder, and you looked at her with a stunned expression, your lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry, but… what?” Was all you could muster.

“She’s still in the NICU, but don’t you worry. She’s with her father. I’ll go and call him over, and the doctor.” The nurse smiled again, but her words didn’t relax you one bit.

They had the opposite effect, and as you watched her get out of your room, your heart rate spiked.

Is Dan here? You wondered, and you immediately clenched your fists, your breathing becoming ragged as your insides were filled with anxiety, and you felt yourself on the verge of throwing up. You closed your eyes shut and wished you could disappear temporarily, just until Dan would leave.

He found you, and now he’s out to get you and your baby girl, and you’ll never escape him, and in a few moments, he’s going to walk through that door and-

“Dal-Rae?” You heard a comforting voice instead, and opening your eyes, you were met with the softest brown eyes and with a pair of brows slightly furrowed in concern.

“Minho…”

The moment you said his name, he practically ran the short way from the door to your bed, immediately coming next to you and grabbing your hands.

“How are you? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

You shook your head, but your eyes wouldn’t listen to you, and tears started falling down your cheeks uncontrolled.

“I’m okay… but… how is my baby, Minho?”

“She’s… it’s a baby girl just as you thought. Dal-Rae, and she’s perfect.” Minho smiled kindly, grabbing her hand and squeezing tight.

“Really?” You smiled weakly.

“She’s the most beautiful girl. You won’t be able to take your eyes off her once you see her.”

“Is she healthy?”

“Mhm. She is. She’s good to go home next week. And I think that so are you.” He smiled again reassuringly. “The doctor should come any minute now and confirm.”

And it was as Minho has said. You had enough time to exchange two more words, and the doctor came into the room to check on your condition. Despite the difficult birth, as you needed to have an emergency C-section, and despite losing a lot of blood, you were recovering well.

When the doctor finally left you and Minho alone, you summoned up your courage to ask the question that’s been bothering you.

“What happened to Dan?”

“Well… the police came and took him to the station, Changbin gave a statement… Dan asked us to settle for a sum of money, but I… I’m sorry, Dal-Rae, he hit you. Again. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it go, so I decided to press charges and sue him.”

“Oh.” You let his words sink in for a few moments, while Minho observed you carefully. “Will he… go to prison?”

“I hope so. He’s been detained for now, and my lawyer said he’s optimistic about putting this guy away for a good few years since it’s not the first time he’s laid his hands on you. You might have to give out a statement in court, though…”

“I… I took pictures every time he would hit me…” You choked out, and Minho’s eyes grew large.

“That would be really helpful, Dal-Rae! But… let’s not think about that right now. You should just focus on your baby and on getting better.” He smiled reassuringly and squeezed your hand again.

“Okay…” You nodded.

“So, should we go see her?” Minho smiled kindly, his eyes only growing softer every time he would blink.

You nodded and stood up with Minho’s help. Even though walking felt weird and slightly painful, you pushed through after your doctor’s recommendations and walked with Minho to see your baby in the NICU.

She was indeed the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and you couldn’t believe you were the one who created it. The nurse also accompanied you and told you everything you needed to know about her and guided you in the room to let you hold her.

“Have you held her already?” You asked Minho as the nurse placed her steadily in your arms, and Minho nodded calmly, his expression turning slightly worried.

“Mhm. I did. I’m sorry, I-”

“Why are you apologising, Minho?” You cut him off with a slight chuckle. “I can only be grateful to you. Thank you so much for everything. I mean it wholeheartedly when I say that I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“What?” Minho chuckled back. “Dal-Rae, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You could’ve done it all without me. Look at you, you left that horrible situation you were in when you were the most vulnerable and you gave birth to her, all on your own. You did it.”

“I really, really love you.” You confessed once again in a whisper, your eyes swelling up with tears as you looked at the man who’s been supporting you through all your hardships for the past few months. Then, you averted your gaze and looked at your baby girl, holding onto her tight, and smiling as tears stained your now bright red cheeks.

Minho moved in front of you and his thumbs gently grazed your face, wiping the tears away.

“I love you too. Both of you.” He then hugged you, making sure to not accidentally squish Amelia in the process.

“We are so, so lucky to have you.” You smiled sincerely as Minho drew back and looked at Amelia as well, his eyes so full of love, you couldn’t believe it.

“We still need to register the birth, but I wanted to wait until you woke up…” Minho spoke, his voice drifting off towards the end of the sentence.

“Okay…”

“Do you… uhm…” Minho hesitated. “Do you still want me to be on the birth certificate?”

“Minho, what kind of question is that?” You frowned. “There’s no one else I’d ever want to be her father.”

“Dal-Rae…” He looked at you, his eyes now being completely engulfed by tears. “Thank you for giving me a chance to raise her next to you.”

“You’re crazy.” You mumbled to yourself and shook your head. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, Minho.”

“I-”

“Oh my God, she opened her eyes! Hi, baby.” You exclaimed softly, not wanting to startle her, smiling at your baby.

“Look, she’s smiling back.” Minho joined.

“That’s a reflex smile, actually.” You chuckled.

“What’s that?”

“Well, she’s too young to actually be smiling. We can expect a real smile from her in a couple months, but this feels good enough honestly.” You clarified and brought your face closer to Amelia, putting your cheek against her.

“You two are so damn cute. Almost as cute as my cats!”

“Minho…” You chuckled and shook your head again, this time in disbelief.

“What? Sorry, my three babies were here first.” He shrugged and then chuckled as well.

“Speaking of, do you think they’ll accept her? I’m a bit worried.”

“They surely will, don’t worry. Oh, let’s sit down, you must be tired from the surgery.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

You continued talking to Minho and admiring Amelia, and a while later, the nurse came back to the room to check on her and to introduce you to the wonders of breastfeeding.

~

It took you and Amelia about a week and a half to get used to one another, and by the time that happened, both of you were ready to go home.

During the days you were at the hospital, Minho would of course come and visit you and bring you some home cooked meals, but he’s also worked hard to surprise you by decorating and setting up the baby’s room.

“Oh, wow.” You exclaimed as soon as he brought you to the room. “This is so beautiful! Oh my God, those flowers painted on the walls are so cute!”

“I’m sorry, the room is still not ready for her to sleep in, but we have a co-sleeping bed in my bedroom anyway, so…” Minho pouted.

“Not ready? But this looks amazing already. What else could we possibly do in this room?” You asked confused.

“Well, I was meaning to surprise you by painting the nursery, but since Amelia came a bit earlier than expected… I had to do it all in a rush… there wasn’t enough time to air it properly and the instructions say that you should wait about 2-3 days before all the fumes have dissipated. I painted it four days ago, but I think it’d be safer to wait another 3 at least, just for good measure.” He explained.

“Oh, okay. You did a great job, by the way! I’m impressed!”

“What, did you think I’d do a bad job?” He chuckled. “Just kidding. I actually haven’t done it all by myself.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… Chris dropped by and helped with pretty much everything, Changbin as well. He painted most of the walls. Oh, and Hyunjin painted those flowers…”

“Really?” Your eyes swelled up with tears. “That’s so sweet of them…”

Minho smiled and hugged you tightly.

“Until I’m certain this room is safe enough for our baby to sleep in, let’s just use the co-sleeping bed, yeah?”

“Okay. Then, let’s go get Amelia from downstairs and see if the cats like her…”

This was the part you’ve been the most nervous about. The cats were sweethearts, but still, animals could be unpredictable. What if they’d hate Amelia and randomly attack her?

You didn’t voice any of these thoughts to Minho, but were on edge the whole time watching him bring the baby carrier upstairs.

As soon as he came through the door, the cats circled him as he put the carrier down and spoke softly to them, introducing them to your baby.

You watched in awe how the cats immediately seemed to accept Amelia, sniffing her and purring loudly, and all of your concerns melted away.

~

Life with a newborn was tough, especially with you still recovering from your C-section, but Minho made it all so much easier.

In the first weeks, he decided to open the restaurant for shorter periods of time, since obviously, you weren’t able to help him, and he also didn’t want to leave all the childcare to you. He wanted to be an involved parent and give you breaks as often as possible.

The first person you were comfortable with seeing the baby after you got used to being back home was Jisung.

He came to visit and was more than excited to meet Amelia, hold her, and take on the role of Godfather you’ve promised him before the birth. Since he was away to Uni during the week, he couldn’t come as often as he’d like, but still, he made the effort to come visit every Sunday and spend a few hours with you, Minho and Amelia, telling you all about his adventures as a new student, complaining about his professors and getting increasingly shy about one of his classmates he had a big crush on.

You were truly grateful for Jisung, for whenever he’d come, it was like a breath of fresh air. He would come with his guitar and sing for Amelia to quiet her down when she’d get fussy, and he’d make everyone laugh with his carefree attitude, which you knew by now that it was a simple façade, as he was funnily anxious about the smallest things.

~

Three months after the birth, Minho came to the nursery somewhat worried.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, immediately growing concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong, but… uhm… Olivia and Chris are here, and they’d like to see you. Should I tell them it’s a bad time?” Minho fidgeted.

You weren’t sure what this was about, but you still haven’t gotten the chance to talk to Chris and thank him for helping Minho with the nursery.

“It’s not a bad time, don’t worry. Should I come downstairs, or do they also want to see the baby?” You smiled sweetly, and Minho’s face grew relaxed.

“I’ll send them up.”

You nodded and waited, and although you were expecting to see both Chris and Olivia, you were surprised to only see her.

“Hello, Olivia. It’s good to see you.” You smiled and spoke quietly, as Amelia was sleeping in her crib right next to your chair and you didn’t want to risk waking her up. “Don't just stay there. Come in.”

“Hi, Dal-Rae…” She hesitated a bit, but ultimately came into the room and swooned over your baby. “She’s so cute, she looks just like you!”

“Thank you. She really is adorable.” You smiled, watching your daughter with content.

“Listen…” Olivia took in a big breath, but before she could continue, you invited her to sit down.

She accepted the invitation and sat down in a chair in front of you, next to the crib, and looked at Amelia some more. She didn’t seem too relaxed, in fact, her nerves were eating away at her, and you wondered what this could be about.

After a little while, she spoke.

“I just wanted to apologise for how I’ve treated you. It wasn’t fair of me to be so cold towards you when you’ve been nothing but friendly.” She looked at you, and the pain in her eyes told you she was sincere.

“It’s okay.” You smiled and nodded softly.

“No, it’s really not. I’m extremely sorry about everything. I don’t want to make up excuses for my behaviour, but… I just wanted to look out for Minho. I know how hurt he’s been before and how long it took him to get back on track, and… I ended up hurting you in the process. I’m really sorry.” She continued apologising, and her words were genuine, laced with pain.

You felt she still had something to say, so you let her keep going.

“But now, seeing how happy Minho is, and how excited he is to speak about you and Amelia, I just… I realised I’ve been wrong about you. You don’t have to forgive me, but… if you could, I’d really, really love it for us to become friends and hang out in the future, and get our kids to play together.”

As she’s said this, she instinctively placed her right hand on her stomach, rubbing it softly.

“Oh, my!” Your eyes widened. “Are you pregnant?”

“I am…” She smiled. “Chris doesn’t know about it yet. In fact, you’re the first person I’m telling…”

“That’s amazing, Olivia! Congratulations!” You leaned over and hugged her, and to your surprise, she started crying.

“I’m so, so sorry, Dal-Rae. Really!” She apologised again and hugged you back, and although you haven’t spoken much until now, you could tell she was a great person who just happened to have a leap of judgement about you.

“I would love it if our kids grew up together. I’m sure Minho would be so happy about that, too. I forgive you, so stop apologising already.” You chuckled and drew back, grabbing her hands.

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled sweetly. “Thank you so much.”

You two continued talking as she asked you about a million questions about Amelia. You figured out that this was just who she was, an extremely curious person who would stop at nothing when it came to personal information.

When an hour had passed and you were still talking, you realised that maybe you could really find a friend in Olivia, should you spend more time together from now on. You were willing to give this friendship a chance.

Sometime later, Chris also came into the room, moment when Olivia got up and left, claiming she still has to eat one of Minho’s recipes before they’re going home.

You and Chris were now alone in the room, which felt awkward and tense at first, but as he sat down and started speaking, you relaxed in your chair and decided to also give him a chance. He didn’t spend too much time apologising compared to his wife, but still did it as well.

“It’s fine, Chris,” you chuckled, “I’ve already spoken to Olivia about this.”

“I needed to apologise as well, to get a weight off my chest.” He explained with a soft smile.

“By the way, I really wanted to thank you for helping Minho out with this room. He couldn’t have done it without you. You’re a good friend.” You smiled back.

“I would do it anytime in a heartbeat. Minho is my best friend, but don’t tell the others I said that.” He placed his index finger against his lips, to indicate a secret, which made you laugh.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered and winked.

“So… speaking of Minho. A few months ago, I told him about a possible accountant job for you, I’m not sure if he’s told you anything about it.”

“Oh, yeah. He did, actually. However… I don’t think I’m ready to start working yet.” You confessed, all those feelings of burdening Minho long behind you, after he’s reassured you a million times that you’re not taking advantage of him.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be ready so soon. I assume the apartment is out of the question?”

“Yeah, it is.” You smiled.

“I think you are great for Minho, Dal-Rae. I’m sorry I insinuated you should move out. And about the job, it’s at one of my friend’s company, and he owes me a favour, so, whenever you’re ready, be it in a year or two when Amelia starts going to kindergarten, that’s a secure position waiting for you. It’s a remote job, so you can also help Minho out with the restaurant.”

“That sounds great. Thank you for looking out for me, Chris.” You smiled, understanding the meaning behind his words. He didn’t want to chase you away from Minho anymore. Instead, he was thinking of more ways to help you two, which you were truly grateful for.

“I’m sorry we took so long to come and visit…” Chris rubbed his nape. “But with everything going on, I figured you needed some more time to adjust. Besides, you’ve also been quite busy with going to court, haven’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Changbin and Minho told me all about it. How are you feeling, though? I’m sure it must’ve been hard to confront your ex.”

“It was, but… I’m glad he’s away and won’t be able to hurt me again.” You smiled, glad that everything was finally over between you and Dan. He would be away in prison for a few years, so you decided not to worry about him anymore. You were ready to leave that life behind.

“I’m also glad.” Chris patted your shoulders a few times, then stood up. “Thanks for seeing us, Dal-Rae, and I’ll see you and Minho at dinner next week? What do you think?”

“Sure, sounds great.” You stood up as well and to your surprise, he took you into a tight hug.

~

Chris and Olivia left sometime later, and when Minho closed up the restaurant, he came directly upstairs to talk to you.

“Hey, long day? Do you need any help with the dishes?” You asked, standing up and hugging him.

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll just do them tomorrow morning.” He smiled, pecking your lips.

“You know, I was thinking we should get a dishwasher. It’d save you so much time.”

“That would be a great idea, actually.” Minho agreed with you, pinching your cheeks. “So, how was your day? You had a lot of company today.”

“I did, yeah.” You chuckled. “It was… good, actually. I enjoyed spending time with Chris and Olivia. And – shocker – I think I made some friends today!”

“I’m really happy you decided to talk to them…” He spoke, and he had the softest expression you’ve ever seen, his eyes holding so much love to you, you nearly wanted to cry.

“Me too. They’re great people. I’m so glad they are your friends.”

“How was Amelia today? Fussy?”

“No, surprisingly.” You glanced over to her crib. You’ve just fed her an hour ago, so she was long gone in dreamland.

“That’s good. I can’t wait to spend some more time with her tomorrow.”

“Until then, should we maybe… have a shower and go to bed?” You asked, your voice indicating something not entirely innocent.

“Yeah, sure.” Minho didn’t seem to catch on.

“I mean… together.” You clarified again, and watched as his expression turned from relaxed to immediately shocked.

“Wait, what? Really? You want to-”

“Yep.” You smirked, cutting him off. “Doctor said I’m in the clear, and I’ve never been more excited to lay my hands on someone else.”

“Fuck, let’s do it.” He grabbed you and spun you around, kissing you repeatedly.

“Not in front of our child, please.” You managed to get out in-between the kisses with a chuckle that Minho reciprocated.

You weren’t sure what life had in store for you two, but you knew that more than anything, you were a great team, deeply in love with each other, and would do anything for your little family.

~

~THE END~

---

(A/N) Thank you so much for reading 'A Chance of Fate'!

With this chapter, we have concluded this story on a happy note.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and as always, I'm looking forward to your thoughts!

You can expect a new story announcement soon (probably tomorrow!) - this time, a Bang Chan Fanfic based in an alternate universe where Chan is Emperor. I am so excited to begin posting this story as well, as I've been working on it for ages and I'm proud to say it's the best story I've ever written so far.

See you in the next adventure, and until then, stay healthy!

Love,

Storm

---

Chapter 9 (Previous Chapter)

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 7: This Is What We Do For The People We Love

Season One | Season Two | Season Three

[Raining Hellfire: Season Three]

Word Count: 2706 words

Warnings: swearing, fear of being alone, visions, being attacked, horror at the end? idk its just creepy, reader making the worst decisions ever but its my fault cause I wrote it

[A/N: I hate myself for this chapter. Pure hatred. WHY DID I DO THIS]

This Is What We Do For The People We Love

You didn’t want to drag the kids into this. After last year’s battle, and the one before that, you were conditioned to feel protective of them. They were children. They shouldn’t be fighting monsters, dealing with things before they even graduated middle school.

So you did what you had to.

You drove Max and El straight to the Mayfield house, assuring them that everything was fine. Luckily, you were aware that Billy wouldn’t be going home. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. But they were your family. Family looks after eachother.

And you had a suspicion of what this ‘Billy’ was capable of.

You knew you couldn’t do it alone. All night, you tried calling Nancy. When she didn’t answer, you tried Jonathan. Both of them seemed to have disappeared. You even tried calling Steve but his father didn’t appreciate it the third time you tried.

You slam the phone back down, pacing the hallway. Your uncle was stuck at work because of the storm, meaning he wouldn’t be back until the morning when it clears up.

With a frustrated groan of stress, you walk back into the kitchen and place your palms on the counter, taking a breath. You knew you shouldn’t assume everyone was ignoring you. Your irrational fears needed to disappear from your mind if you really wanted to put an end to what was happening before anyone else got hurt.

You started fiddling with the rolling pin on the counter. Your aunt was an avid baker, someone who used their talent for creating cakes to calm their stress. You wish you had the same skill. You desperately needed to relieve some stress right now.

From the corner of your eye, a small red blinking light shone at you and your heart skips a beat. Maybe someone called back when you were using the line?

Walking to your voicemail machine, you eagerly press the button and play the message, the tone playing until suddenly it went quiet. You lean closer, frowning.

And then the highest pitch of static screamed at you, throwing you back.

Tripping over yourself, your back hits the ground hard enough to knock the oxygen from your body. You gasp for air, turning on your side. Slowly, you take in a breath, hand reaching out to push you back up.

The ground is cold, shooting pain through your arm in shivers.

Scrambling up from the kitchen floor, you panic. The kitchen you loved was crawling with vines, the air cold enough to show your breath.

“Y/n”

You spin around to see a silhouette in the hallway. One long arm.

“It’s time”

“No.” You gasp, back away. You run to the back door, pulling on the handle. But the door doesn’t open.

“You can’t escape this”

“No, no, no.” You choke back fear, back pressed against the door as the silhouette steps closer.

As soon as it stepped into the room, its body morphed into a new shape until Billy stood before you.

“You are ruining everything” His voice didn’t belong, sending waves of shock down your spine.

“What do you want from me?!” You scream, anger coursing through you. Why was this happening? Why you?

“Stop fighting”

You take a step forward, clenching your fist, “No.”

“Your fate will come for you sooner than you think” He continues, meeting your steps until he was only a breath away.

“Then kill me.” A tear falls down your cheek, “If that’s what you want, then just kill me!”

“It’s not that easy” Billy strokes your cheek, wiping the tear “But there are others ways of destroying you”

He suddenly clenches his hand around your throat and you try to scream, his grip too tight to allow any sound to leave your lips.

“Everyone you love, every person you drag down with you, will be taken from you” His eyes turn a milky white and you claw at his hand, “Stop fighting and obey”

Your hands fumble around for something when it finally grabs onto the rolling pin. Instantly, you grip it tight and smash it into the side of his head. He yells out, loosening his grip and you push away.

And suddenly you’re falling. The space around you turns black and you fall deeper and deeper until…

You gasp, hitting the ground.

“But there’s gotta be a way in.” Robin sighs just as you push through the employee door, Dustin and Steve whipping their heads around towards you.

“Woah, you look like hell.” Dustin comments before changing his mind, “Not in a bad way. It’s a cool.. cool thing.”

“Just shut up.” Steve says, standing from his seat. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve got a lead on this whole Russian thing and Robin cracked the code.”

You swallow whatever words you wanted to say, taking a breath. There was no point in starting a fight.

“Well, I’ve been trying to call you but I guess you’ve been busy.” You say through gritted teeth and his eyebrows raise.

After the worst vision you’ve ever experienced, you called Steve again. You knew he’d be home and awake, especially since the events of last year. You called and called and yet, he never answered the phone. And, from the look in his eyes, he had heard it ringing.

“Uh… okay. Guys, we’ll be right back.” He says, trying to lead you through the door but Dustin interrupts.

“Y/n!” Dustin runs to block the door, looking up at you with eyes you just couldn’t resist, “How do I get into a super top secret Russian facility when I need a keycard and it’s being protected by men with big guns?”

You blink at him. You hadn’t slept at all last night. From trying to contact someone to the fear of closing your eyes, you hadn’t had time.

“You don’t.” You say, trying to leave the room before you burst into tears, and he groans.

“Come on, this is important!”

“I have worse things to worry about-” You shake your head and try to be reasonable but he’s determined.

“No, I need you and you keep running away-”

“No, Dustin!” You snap. You didn’t mean to. But the fear you currently felt rid you of any kind of patience, “I’m sure you think this is important but that doesn’t mean I have to. And you know I’ll be there for you whenever you need me to but I’m sick of everyone taking me for granted! I’ve been doing the best I can and no one is listening to me! Where’s the help when I need it?!”

You push past him, practically sprinting out the door.

So much for that plan.

You gnaw on your lip, weaving between the crowd of people.

A voice called out behind you but you kept moving. Maybe it was better this way. The less people involved meant the less that got hurt.

“Y/n!” Steve practically jumped out in front of you just before you exited into the parking lot. “Woah, woah, let’s just talk.”

“It’s fine, Steve.” You push passed him and go through the doors. But he wasn’t letting you go that easily.

He followed you to your car, constantly trying to get your attention.

“Y/n! Just wait!”

As you fumble with your keys, he takes the opportunity to swipe them from your hands and holds them above his head. You’re too tired to reach out for them.

“Give them back.” You say, your heart not in it.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Give them back.”

“You just lost it at Dustin. Dustin. Like yeah, that kid’s annoying, but… it’s not like you.” Steve’s eyes bore worry and fear at the way you were acting. He just wanted to help.

“Why?” You challenge, finally facing him, “Because I’m not just blindly following orders? Because I had an opinion? Because for once in my life I’m actually figuring out how to say ‘no’?”

He searches your eyes, lowering his arm but his grip on the keys stays the same.

“What happened?” His face frowns in concern and you almost burst into tears.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You couldn’t do this.

After graduation, Steve felt like a failure. You had stood by him as he struggled with his home life, tried to find a job and keep himself from falling. In fact, when Dustin came in with his Russian theory, you hadn’t seen Steve look happier. It was giving him purpose, a reason to be needed. And to drag him away just because you had a ‘bad feeling’ about Billy just seemed cruel. You didn’t even have any real evidence.

And if you were right… there was no way in hell you would put someone you loved in danger.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, swallowing the guilt sure to come. “I need to go.”

“No, I’m not buying it.” He cupped your face in his hand gently, tilting it up, “Tell me.”

“Everyone you love, every person you drag down with you, will be taken from you”

Tears threatened to fall. Every vision, every living nightmare, was tearing you down by hurting the people you loved. You couldn’t do it. So you swallowed the guilt and did what you had to.

“I don’t want to be here with you.”

He stumbled at the words, hand dropping from your face. “What- what does that mean?”

“I’m done.” You shrug, bitterness in your mouth. “You have Robin now, so it’s not like you’re completely alone.”

You were grasping at straws now, trying to find something that would make him leave you. But the truth was, there wasn’t a single bad thing about Steve that you could use against him. He was the one part of your life that gave you hope. But your best friends all seem to have one thing in common, and you were going to fight to keep him alive. Even if it killed you.

“Wait, is this about Robin?” He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all before his eyes widened. “Do you think something is going on between us?”

And just like that, he gave you an excuse.

“Isn’t there?”

Steve’s head shook furiously, a few strands of hair falling out of place. But he didn’t bother fixing it. “No, no. I don’t like Robin like that. I-I never liked her the way…”

When his voice trailed, your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He just stared, eyes flicking between yours. He looked nervous. It made you nervous.

“Steve? What-”

“The way I like you.” He blurts. When you freeze, he takes a breath, stepping closer, “The way… the way I have always liked you.”

Steve closes the space, resting his head against your forehead and a tear manages to escape your eye.

“I love you, Y/n.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, reaching up and wiping away the tear.

“Everyone you love, every person you drag down with you, will be taken from you”

He stepped forward again, voice barely a whisper as he searched your face for something to give him hope. “Please, say something.”

You reached out, placing your hands over his. He relaxed for a second until you unclasped his hand and grabbed your keys, never meeting his eyes.

“I…” You manage to hold back the tears enough to meet his eyes, every part of your body begging you not to do this. But you had to. “I don’t feel the same way about you. Never have. Never… never will.”

Steve’s face drops and it shatters your heart into a thousand pieces.

“I’m sorry.” It was a weak attempt at forgiveness as you finally got into your car, slamming the door shut behind you and driving away before you changed your mind.

You glance in the rear-view to see him still stood there, watching you fade into the distance.

It was better this way. That’s what you needed to convince yourself, anyway.

No matter how excruciatingly painful it was to have lied.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles were white. Tears stained your cheeks as you stared daggers at the building in front of you.

“Stop fighting”

“Stop fighting and obey”

“Like hell.” You murmur, grabbing your keys and leaving the car. You ignored the mud coating your shoes, trudging towards the abandoned steelworks.

Night had begun to fall, the darkness swarming you as you found the entrance into the building. You gripped the flashlight in your hand tighter, as if the light would deter any monsters lurking in the shadow. You wanted answers and your gut was telling you that this is where you’d find them.

Slipping through the gap in the doors, you quietly crept into the space, trying to ignore the stench. It was so overpowering that your eyes began to water, begging for fresh air. But you couldn’t stop now.

Your flashlight swept over the place, trying to locate any signs of, well, monsters. You’d rather not fight another Demogorgon. You wandered further into the factory, the only sound heard being your breath.

The investigation seemed to hit a dead end until you heard a distant echo, your body spinning to the noise.

Getting closer to the noise, you found a staircase leading further down. Like a basement. The echo turned into a voice and you immediately switch off your flashlight, not wanting to alert anyone of your presence.

You crouch next to the metal railing, ears perked. You held your breath when they spoke again, instantly recognising her voice.

Heather.

“The girl, was it her?” She spoke quietly, making you shuffle as close as you could get without compromising yourself.

“Yeah.” Billy’s voice replied and your heart sunk. What the hell were they doing here?

“It was her.” He continued and you frowned, “She knows. She knows about me. She could have killed me.”

El, you realised, shaking your head. So much for keeping the kids out of harms way.

“Yes.” Heather said, her tone softer than you remember, “But not us.”

Us? You wonder, shaking your head, What does that-

Your thoughts ended as soon as a low growl emerged from the basement, tightening your throat. It surprised you to the extent that you lost your balance, arm reaching out to grab something.

You stabilised yourself with a sigh, relief flooding your body.

Then, the metal pole shifted under your fingertips, lurching you forward and the pole snapped from the railing, clanging down the staircase.

You didn’t waste any time. You sprung to your feet, sprinting through the factory while the echo of footsteps on the metal staircase quickened, your heart racing faster with each step. You squeezed your way through the opening once again, your flashlight catching on the steel and flying out of your hand. There wasn’t any time to go back for it.

Then, you felt a harsh tug on the back of your jumper and you practically flew backwards, crashing into the mud.

Scrambling backwards, you fumble around for a weapon. In the darkness, you couldn’t see what was attacking you. But you certainly felt it. Something sharp dug into your ankle as you tried to crawl away, tugging you back towards the entrance. It wasn’t human.

It dragged you just inside the building until your hands found your flashlight again. You flip onto your back, shining the light in front of you and you almost screamed. It looked like a vine made from flesh, a row of sharp teeth attempting to tear through your jeans. Behind, you saw a figure approaching, hands reached out ready to grab you.

You spin the flashlight in your hand and strike the vine hard, smashing its ‘head’ as hard as you could over and over until it screeched in pain. There was a sharp pain in the back of your mind as you did so, but you were only focused on escaping. The action loosened its grip and you kicked away from it, stumbling back onto your feet. The figure in front of you didn’t move any faster.

It wasn’t Billy. But it was someone you recognised from the town. And they were smiling at you.

“Join us.”

You ran as fast as your legs could take you until you reached your car, mentally thanking yourself for leaving the keys in the ignition. You pulled away with such speed, you almost gave yourself whiplash, tyres screeching against the damp ground.

With a glance in your rear-view, you saw a shadow standing in the middle of the road, staring back at you.

You were foolish to think you could do this on your own.

Chapter 8: Code Red ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs/ @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever

[juiceboxjiffy]

It had been a stupidly fucking long night, and it wasn't even that late yet.

Alli stood there, staring down at the body still sitting on his floor. His vision blurred around the edges with a vignette of gold, hands shaking so much that the only way to steady himself was clenching them into fists so tight, claws dug into his skin. Blood dripped down to join what was already there.

His drugs were burning such a hole in his pocket. This was anger. The anger he could never get away from no matter how hard he tried. Deep breaths didn't do shit. Throwing things couldn't help, and even if they did- Noodle was sleeping in his bed. To disturb them would be the lowest of the low. He still had a tiny bit of reasoning left to know how shit that'd be.

The drugs helped though. They always helped, despite the consequences. 'Snorting the blood of an angel will eventually come around to kill you.' Echoed in his head, as he made his way over to a table. Any flat surface, to get it done.

It could go two ways now. The official way was call in to Marlo, but dealing with that jackass and the questions as to why the fuck there was a dead body in his apartment would only make him angrier. That led to more of a chance at accidentally snapping at Noodle. That could not happen.

The other option was to call in the pixies to take the body away. He had food, and they usually took them away without favours anyway. 121 years and he still had no idea where they went, but it was always out of his hair.

Either way the body needed to be gone before his son-ish woke up. Calling Marlo meant no investigating of his own. The pixies were taking the matter into his own hands, and he liked that option so much better.

He finished taking his hit and stood up straight, stretching. Already feeling so much more relaxed and giddy. His hands now shook for a different reason, as he moved to examine the body better.

Blunt force trauma was a definite, but so were the heavy gashes made with something very sharp. The cuts in the thing's skin was clean, even with scales. Something.. Very sharp, but not sharp enough to slice completely through scales and flesh- and they weren't thick, which meant thinner weapon.

His brain immediately went to dagger, but no.. Unfortunately, the wounds were longer slices than a dagger. More together. Which meant something like a katana. Which.. He really hoped wouldn't have been the case. Of course, something else could have done it- but in his experience, katana meant something oriental, and that was usually some sort of yokai.

His mind raced, thoughts jumbled and hard to piece together. He did get that this.. Whatever it was, was the father of Noodle's kittens. They made that very clear in their panic, as Key had patched them up. The damage to Noodle was bad, but not life-threatening to them or the kittens.

They didn't talk about what happened, no matter how much Alli tried to ask. There'd be no pushing this. Not yet, at least.

Point being, most likely whatever this was, it was in that same gang. What in the bloody fuck were they doing to get someone who really knew how to wield a sword after them like this?

He flipped the thing over so it wasn't flipped over, and immediately stood to back up, almost running into a table. It was easy to see now, in a twisted way- but one that explained more of the situation. It was so obvious from the snout and magickal energy leaking into the floorboard. They were some sort of dragon, but a small one. Maybe even a mix of dragon with kobold and something fuzzy.

Alli hoped really really hard that this wasn't the kittens' father.

Either way, the situation got a little more serious. Before, he had thought the katana or whatever it was, wasn't as sharp as it could be. Now though.. Now he knew that it was crazy sharp. He found his panicking. The drugs didn't help.

If there was someone out there executing small dragons or half-dragons, it meant they had to have known exactly what to do. The wounds were methodical to help back this up.

If Noodle was caught by whoever did this, they'd be... Well. Maybe it was time to actually find a babysitter.

[causalitylinked]

Like I had mentioned before to Rae, not much really rattles Ryuto... but after watching many true crime videos, I realize that on the off chance someone he cares about happens to go missing, he will just be beside himself with worry (especially if they happen to be a woman, because they’re far more prone to violence than men).

Seriously, though, this boy would literally spend many sleepless nights, researching their whereabouts and expending all the available resource just to find them. At some point too, he will likely admonish the police for being ‘useless’ and will snap at another person for telling him to rest, because in his eyes, he doesn’t have the ‘luxury of sleeping’ when they could be in trouble

...On top of that, he doesn’t trust the police to do jack shit, so being around him would be mental anguish, because on one hand, you can tell he’s agonizing over their disappearance, but on the other hand, he’s hell bent on finding out just what happened to them, to the point where it would negatively affect his physical health.

Normally, though, Ryuto goes to bed at a reasonable hour and is the type to always be sufficiently rested and is nowhere near as stubborn as Sonia, so you know something is wrong if he deviates from his regular routine or refuses to take care of himself.

On the off chance they’re ever found, though, he might not hug them but will admit for once he’s ‘immensely relieved’ with brows remaining drooped... then afterwards, you can bet he’s installing a tracking device on their phone or their belongings just in case they were to ever get kidnapped or something, due to how the disappearance would have traumatized him so much, he can no longer rest easy if they insist on going home alone.

[amethystpath-writes]

In the Papers

(NOT A PR0MPT)

If you want, could you write a trope where someone (villain or hero) is visibly weak in a fight where they just couldn't move well, and boy, they collapse in the other's arms. This was based on the sentence, "The last thing i remember is the warmth of arms holding me." 😔✌I'm a sucker for the stoic one pretending like everything's fine when the other just,,, becomes soft for them. I don't know if that's clear, but I do want to give you this idea. Just take care of yourself!! You don't have to do this if you don't wanna :> Stay safe!!

Thank you for the kind words @whoopdyprompts ! I strayed a wee bit from the prompt, but I hope you can enjoy it all the same!

******

In Hero’s eyes, she was throwing swift fist, after swift fist. Of course, her fast fists were being caught and thrown right back at her, and she was aware of it, but it only meant she was evenly matched. That was okay. Hero needed to keep pushing. Keep throwing fists- despite the tightness in her chest.

Through the thick of ‘intense’ action, Villain said, “Hero, you need to slow down.” Slower than what she was already being, anyways. She needed to sit down.

“Why? So you can win? So you can cause yet another panic?”

Villain caught another fist, twisting it this time, and ultimately rearing Hero into an uncomfortable and disabling position. With her wrist tucked into her back, and her back pressed so tightly against Villain’s chest, there was nothing she could do to either fight him nor become free. “Why?” Incredulous. “Because your face is beet red and I’m afraid you’re going to pass out. You’re not getting enough oxygen.”

“What would you know about my oxygen?” she seethed, attempting to yank her arm free. Although now that she heard Villain’s words, there was an awful lot of mucus in the back of her throat, blocking her airways. And she felt hot- very hot.

“Your face,” he repeated, “is beet red. You have asthma, Hero. Stop before you end up killing yourself.”

Asthma? How did Villain know about her asthma?

As if reading her thoughts through her stillness, Villain explained, “There was an article in the papers. ‘Is Our Hero Really Our Hero?’ I wonder the same thing only because of how stupid you’re being right now.”

“You’re going to call the person who’s about to pass out stupid?” Shit. She didn’t mean to admit she was near fainting.

“Because you are about to pass out and you will not stop squirming around.” Villain spun Hero in a one-eighty, pinning her arms to her sides with two strong arms of his own. Maybe they wouldn’t be so strong if Hero had enough oxygen in her system for her blood to actually circulate as it was supposed to.

“Let go of me,” Hero spat, and Villain did. And she staggered one step, and then two steps. Her head swayed as a dark vignette grew in her vision, coming closer and closer to an all-black image. Before she knew it, Hero was falling.

Preventing Hero’s fall wasn’t easy with as quick as she fell, but Villain managed. He wouldn’t try talking her down just to let her hit her head. “You know it was out of a caring heart that I told you to stop, right?” She was blinking at him, still conscious, even if just barely. He paused, smoothed Hero’s hair behind her ear. “Why do this to yourself?”

“Why do you sound like you care?” She sucked in a quick breath and swallowed, coughed.

Villain shook his head, walking Hero over to a wall. “Hands behind your head.”

“You’re arresting me?” She wheeze-laughed.

“Do it. It’ll help open your airways.”

She knew that. “I don’t trust you won’t do something to me.”

A tautness took over Villain’s face. He clenched his slightly crooked jaw and looked to the ground. “I wouldn’t take advantage of anyone’s disability. I wish you knew that.”

But Villain didn’t get to say this last part in full because Hero snapped, “It’s not a disability.” She didn’t like that word- it made her feel helpless, useless, weak.

“So what if it is or isn’t, Hero! You’re not breathing normally dammit.”

The two both took a moment to breathe- Hero more so than Villain for obvious reasons. She laced her fingers together, palms on the back of her head, elbows stuck out like misplaced wings. Meanwhile, Villain paced.

“I wreck corporate parties because they all have underground operations that are destroying people’s lives. But you wouldn’t know that because you waste your lungs fighting me instead of using your brain to investigate them.” Was Villain angry? Yes, but that was quite the understatement. His anger wasn’t caused by Hero’s naivety. Rather, it was because she was pushing herself too hard. “It’s not your fault that you have asthma. But it is your fault that you don’t take care of it when it’s acting up. You’re not hurting anyone by saving yourself, Hero.”

“I could be stopping you,” she said. Her breaths were fuller now, more effective in taking care of her body. “It’s what they all want.”

“Because they don’t know the honest threat.” Villain sighed. “I value you, Hero, for being the icon everyone can look up to, but you’re not seeing what it’s doing to you. You read that article, didn’t you?”

The newspaper? Yes, she did.

“And you blocked it out of your memory- began wondering why you suddenly couldn’t exist with asthma. You can’t wish it away, however much you want to. And I know that sucks, I know, but listen to me. You are no lesser of a person for having a disorder- whether that’s asthma or anything else.” He neared the wall which Hero still stood at, and seeing that her breathing, her complexion, was back to normal, he took her hands in his own, gently rubbing his thumbs over her cracked knuckles. “If anything, I applaud you for your ability to exercise at all. You haven’t let it discourage you, no matter how much you tried to shelter it. I’m proud of you.”

A tear slipped down Hero’s cheek. She nodded. “I needed that,” she told Villain, watching his thumb glide across her skin. A loving touch, a caring thought. It was all she needed to realize she deserved more than pressure and doubt. Hero deserved the appreciation and concern. “Will you walk me home? It’s several blocks away and I don’t trust myself to not jog back.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said, “but you need to tell me where your inhaler is so I can shove it down your throat next time you do this.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I think that would make my breathing even worse.”

******

@whatwhumpcomments

[sweeterthanthis]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Summary: When Ransom takes you to the most expensive restaurant in Boston, he's not prepared to go without what he thinks he's owed. Even if you don't want to give it to him.

Warnings: NONCON, sexual violence, heavy knife play, mild blood play, humiliation, vaginal penetration, anal, anal creampie, forced orgasm, 18+.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is very dark. Please take the warnings seriously and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Thank you so much to @cockslut-padalecki for beta'ing this for me. I appreciate and love you! And big thanks to @msmarvelwrites and @river-soul for pre-reading and all your encouragement throughout. You're both incredible 🖤

‘How did I get myself into this mess?’

That thought had entered your mind a thousand times, from the second he insisted on ordering your drink for you. You don't even like red wine. But he  insisted. Just like he insisted on ordering you the salmon. Insisted on paying the bill. Insisted on sharing a cab home. Insisted on walking you to your doorstep. You didn't notice him wave the cab off into the night, and if you had, you’d have run inside as fast as your feet could carry you. 

You’ve been locked away in the bathroom for god knows how long, working your way through a panic, and desperately trying to figure out a way to get him out of here. Out of your house, and out of your life. 

Sure, Ransom is  gorgeous. When he’d first walked into the restaurant - twenty minutes late, of course - you were practically squirming in your seat. Bright, ocean blue eyes, chestnut hair perfectly coiffed and not a strand out of place, cheekbones that could cut glass. The man was a delight for the eyes, but it didn’t take you long to figure out that he was anything but sweet. 

He’s condescending, arrogant, spiteful, clearly spoiled rotten - and in a nutshell, the total opposite of anything you’re looking for in a potential romantic partner. You had considered, just for a moment, inviting him into your bed for the night. A one and done kind of thing. Just to test out that admittedly impressive physique. But the second he cupped the waitresses ass right in front of you, you knew that wasn’t going to happen either. 

“You’ve been in there an awfully long time, sweetheart.” His voice is muffled by the wood, the door handle jimmying as he tries to twist it free of the catch in the lock. Your hands are shaking, purse strewn across the couch, your cell phone completely out of reach. “C’mon, what are you doing in there? Didn’t even offer me a drink before you hid yourself away. Not a very good hostess, are you?” 

You clench your jaw, teeth gritted together as you ball your hands into fists; trying to rid yourself of the unbridled rage threatening to claw its way out. Nothing good will come of you losing it. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a shaky breath - trying to find some semblance of calm amongst the chaos. 

“I-” your voice shaky, you grip the edge of the sink to ground yourself. “I would like you to leave. I’m not feeling well. Must have been something I ate. Maybe the salmon?” 

Silence falls upon you, and you release a breath you don’t  realise  you’ve been holding when you hear your front door slam shut a few moments later. Guess you were right about one thing. He really was an asshole. Sure, you aren’t  sick - but he doesn’t know that. He hadn’t  even bothered to ask you if you were okay, just upped and left. 

You splash some cool water on your face, brush the taste of bitter red wine from your teeth and tongue, and remove your makeup. You can’t help but huff a laugh at the thought of telling the girls at work just how fucking atrocious your date was. At least you have a funny story to tell. You’d be laughing about it soon enough, right? 

Making your way out of the bathroom, you pull the cord and turn off the light; locking the front door and hanging your keys up on the hook. You stifle a yawn as you make your way upstairs to your bedroom, pulling a sleep shirt from your dresser and tossing it onto the bed. 

You spy your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brow and muttering to yourself, “Wasted yet another gorgeous dress on yet another asshole.” 

Reaching awkwardly to unzip yourself, you shrug out of the dress and throw it into the laundry hamper at the end of your bed. You’re about to shuffle out of your lacy panties when your eyes land on the contents of your makeup bag strewn across the floor, and your heart misses a beat because you could have sworn it was on your dressing table when you left. 

You look to the window to see if the heavy breeze knocked it over, but it’s closed; just like you know it would be. You shake your head from side to side, trying to rid yourself of all the silly thoughts flooding your brain. 

“Swear I’m going fucking crazy sometimes.” 

You sink to your knees with little to no grace, reaching for your mascara and your lipsticks, throwing them back into your cosmetic bag. You can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something’s not right. You still your movements, sucking in a breath through your nostrils as you look around the room. 

Your heart stops in your chest, breath hitching in your throat when you see it. 

A camel coloured, woollen coat that you’d recognise anywhere, draped across the arm of the chaise lounge in the corner of your bedroom; and you freeze. 

You can’t move a muscle, tears pricking at your eyes. The realisation dawns on you, as if someone dumps a bucket of ice water on your head. 

He’s still here. 

“Anybody ever tell you you’re way too trusting?” His voice startles you, your body turning to face the doorway; Ransom’s large shadow illuminated by the light from the hall. His lecherous eyes wander over your body as you try to cover your modesty, standing on wobbly knees and reaching for the sleep shirt on your bed. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you. You won’t be needing it tonight.” 

“Yo-you need to leave,” you stutter, holding the shirt tight against your chest, your knuckles white from gripping the thin cotton material. Your gut twists when he smirks at you, one hand behind his back and the other resting on his hip. You find your voice again, a little sterner this time. “I don’t want you here. Leave or I’ll call the cops.” 

Ransom takes a stride forward as you take furtive little steps backwards, back digging into the dresser behind you. He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from head to toe, and then back again. 

“Little lamb cornered by the wolf, huh? What did you expect, princess? I wined and dined your stubborn ass at the most expensive restaurant in Boston, and you think I’m gonna let you decide when the night’s over?” 

You’re shaking, teeth chattering together in fright as he looms closer to you; his body a few feet from yours, crystal blue eyes burning with an intensity that chills you to the bone. He reaches for the shirt in your grasp swiftly, ripping it from your fingers and throwing it back over his shoulder - your hands the only thing left to protect your modesty. 

“C’mon. Playing hard to get isn’t cute on you. Show me what I paid for.” 

Your eyes flit from left to right, brain whirring as you try to figure out a way to escape him. There’s no doubt in your mind what he intends to do to you, and the mere thought of it causes bile to rise and burn in your throat. 

“Go on. Try it,” he mocks, sensing your flight response rising to the surface. “Run. See how far you get. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of it. I knew you were into some kinky shit. Took it upon myself to have a little look-see through your bedside cabinet.” 

Heat rises in your cheeks as shame engulfs you, the thought of him prying into your collection of vibrators and toys making your nose scrunch up in disgust. The last thing you could ever want is for him to put his hands on you. 

You need to get the hell out. 

He’s too fast for you though, snatching you up in his arms the second you get close enough, your back pressed roughly against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist. You feel a cool chill at your jugular, your eyes flitting down to the shine of a blade and a sob emitting from your mouth, the tip of it digging into your throat just enough to break the first layer of skin. 

“You know, it’s a real shame it had to be this way,” he hums, breath hot against your ear as he walks you backwards a little. You want to struggle against his grasp, your mind screaming at you to act, to do something - anything. But the knife at your throat is enough to frighten you senseless. “I’m a real good fuck. Ask around, you’ll find that out. But you just had to go and make it difficult, didn’t you, princess?” 

“Please,” you whisper, fingernails digging into the cashmere sleeve of his sweater. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.” 

He pulls the knife away from your neck just enough so his tongue can lathe at the crimson droplet seeping from the tiny wound; humming in satisfaction at the taste of your blood on his tongue. 

“If your pussy tastes as good as that, I might have to come back for seconds.” 

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him to hold yourself up, his hips grinding against your ass - the prominent bulge beneath his trousers pressing into the crease of your behind. 

“Please, I don’t want this. P-please.” 

“Please, please,” he taunts, spinning you round in his hold to face him, the knife in his hand snaking beneath the lace front of your bra and slashing it open - your breasts falling free as he shoves you back against your bed. “You’ll be begging soon enough, but it won’t be for me to stop.” 

You lay there frozen, barely breathing as he pulls his sweater up over his head, his broad chest outlined in the shadow of the dim light. You must be staring, because he’s smirking again. Smirking at you as if you want this, as if you’re enjoying it. 

“You know how lucky you are that I even took you out for dinner tonight, princess? I can’t remember the last time I fucked a girl in a bed. We don’t usually make it out of the car before they’re dropping their panties for me.” 

Your eyes fix on the ceiling above you, arms resting against the mattress limply as you begin to accept it. It’s going to happen. He’s gone too far to stop now. His naked form is on top of you, forcing your thighs apart as he looms down over you. He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him as he runs the tip of the blade down over the valley of your breasts. 

“C’mon. Give me a smile,” he whispers, his mouth latching painfully onto your nipple as he sucks it between his teeth. You hiss, your legs flailing either side of his waist as you struggle. “I bet, if I slip my fingers inside that little lace number - you’ll be soaked.” 

You're crying, tears rolling down over your cheeks and onto the sheets below. You cringe when you feel the heavy thud of his cock against your lace covered core, closing your eyes and breathing in deep through your nostrils. 

"Shall we find out?" Ransom asks, but he doesn't want an answer. He's not going to give you a choice in the matter regardless of what you say. He sits back on his haunches, the flat of the blade making its way down over your stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of your panties. "I'll make you a deal, princess. If you're not wet when I cut these panties off, I'll let you go."

You can't help but sob harshly, because you can already feel it. Your body betrays your mind, and heat spreads between your thighs, the dampness coating the gusset of your underwear. And he knows it, too. Can tell by the expression of shame on your features. 

You jolt up the bed when the chill of the blade drags across your inner thigh, slipping beneath the lace and resting against your heated core. You hate the way your pussy clenches at the sensation, cursing yourself inwardly as he chuckles. 

You feel the strain of material against your hips as he twists the blade, the serrated edge tearing through your underwear in one swift movement - leaving your cunt bare for his possessive stare. 

Ransom lifts the knife up in front of him, smirking at the sight of it, the flat edge glistening and slick from your juices. You want to vomit. You think you might when he lowers it to your lips, pressing it against them and stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb. A misplaced tenderness that you don't appreciate. 

"Looks like I was right, doesn't it?" He huffs proudly, nudging your bottom lip down with the tip of the knife. "Open up, princess. You can say you don't want it, but that pussy - oh, that pussy - she wants it."

His eyes are ferocious as you shy away, nuzzling your face into the mattress and refusing to follow his instruction. The slap of the blade on your cheek makes you cry out, dampness coating your cheek as he brings it back to your mouth. 

"Don't make it worse for yourself. Do as you're told, and I might even let you come tonight. Bet I could get one outta you in less than five minutes. Wanna make that bet? Didn't work out so well for you the last time, did it?"

"Now, stick your tongue out." You do it, hesitating a little when the tip of your tongue hits the metal - the salty sweet tang of your essence soaking into your tastebuds. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You flinch as he wipes the remainder of your slick against your cheek, the blade nicking your jawline on the way down, warmth rising to the surface as a droplet of blood trickles down to the hollow of your throat. 

"Now, can I put the fucking knife down? Been waiting all night to get my hands on this tight body."

You hesitate a little, nodding slowly and letting your tears of anguish flow freely. He tosses the knife onto the floor next to his clothes, trapping your body against the mattress with his as he forces his mouth onto yours. He kisses you with a ferocity that knocks you off kilter, his tongue forcing its way between your teeth. You fight the urge to bite down, his strength easily overpowering yours. You just want it to be over. 

"Next time I'll take my time, get to know what makes this body tick. But I think I've waited long enough to get inside that little cunt, don't you?"

Next time.

You swallow down the bile that gathers in the back of your throat, holding your breath when he reaches between your bodies and runs his fingers through your traitorously sloppy folds - pinching at your clit and making you shriek. 

"Absolutely fucking drenched. You act all demure and frigid, but deep down you're just a whore looking to get fucked." You can't hold back the whimper that escapes you when he rubs on your sensitive nub, tiny - strangely tender - circles causing you to pant. "That's it. Just enjoy it, princess. Behave, and I'll make it good for you."

You can feel that all familiar tingle rising to the surface, one hand gripping the sheets beside you and the other covering your mouth, almost as if you're trying to hold in your mewls. It's disgusting, he is disgusting - but you find yourself only a handful of strokes away from your orgasm. Ransom rips your hand away from your mouth, positioning your hands above your head and securing them both with one of his own. 

"No. I wanna hear those pretty noises. I deserve them." Ransom's ministrations quicken, your cunt clenching and releasing as you hold your breath and try to stave it off; but it's no use. "Oh, here it comes."

Your whole body jerks as you try to wriggle free of his grasp, your climax crashing over you and sending you dizzy, blood pounding in your ears and your cries ringing out in the air. Fresh tears fall at the realisation that he was right. How easy it was to send you hurtling over the edge. You're disgusted with yourself. 

"I'd hate to say I told you so, princess - actually no, that's a lie - I fucking told you so," he sneers, shoving your thighs apart once more and settling between them, your wrist aching from the force of his grip. "Now, be a good girl and beg for it."

"Fuck you," you snap, your suppressed rage bursting out of you as you spit in his face - your saliva rolling down his cheek. 

The blood drains from your face as he smirks and wipes it away with the back of his hand, reaching for your throat and squeezing roughly. He brings himself level with you, his eyes staring a hole through your skull as he seethes. "That was a mistake. I was gonna make it good for you, but now I'm just gonna take exactly what I want."

You're on your front before you know it, your body free of his weight as he leans back and reaches down over the edge of the bed. You try to scramble away when you see the knife in his hand, desperate sobs wracking your body when he grips your ankle and tugs you back towards him; his knees either side of your thighs as he presses his chest against your back. 

"Please!" you cry, shuddering as he drags the tip of the knife up over the curve of your spine. "Please, I'm begging you, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. Feel how hard you got me?" he purrs, slapping the heavy weight of his dick against the cleft of your ass. You wince and clench your thighs, but it's no use, the bulbous head prodding at your hole. "When's the last time you got fucked? Not that it matters. You've never been fucked like this."

"No!" you scream, his hefty girth splitting you open in one brutal thrust, pussy fluttering to try and accommodate him. He's huge and you're sobbing. "No, please no."

"Jesus fucking Christ, that's some good pussy," he grunts in your ear, the pressure from the knife nudging against the column of your throat. "Does it hurt, princess? I don't care."

You sigh with relief when he withdraws, but he soon punches the breath from your lungs when he fills you up again - his hips pounding against your ass, flesh rippling from the sheer force of it.

"You're gonna come all over my dick, and you're gonna say thank you. Got it?" he spits, punching into you mercilessly, fucking your frozen body into the mattress. You cry out when he applies more pressure to the blade, your pulse thrumming against the metal. "I said, got it?"

"Yes!" you howl, clinging to the comforter and bracing yourself for each violation of your soaked channel. 

You hate the way your cunt sucks him in, despise the way your knees tremble as he sets your nerve endings on fire. He can feel the way your body reacts to him, teases you with it, whispers filth over your shoulder that makes your gut twist. 

"You look so pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that? I think you're gonna come again." 

Every muscle in your body tenses up, his animalistic grunts vibrating against the nape of your neck at the feel of your walls clinging onto him. 

"Oh, you are. And then I'm gonna fill you up. I hope you're on birth control."

You are. Thank fucking God, you are. But the fact that he truly doesn't care makes your blood run cold. He's a fucking psychopath, and you just need to make it out of this alive. 

Ransom sets the knife down behind him, bicep curling around your throat and tugging your head back against his collarbone - devious eyes searing into yours, bloodshot and damp with tears. 

"You're a mess, look at you," he smirks, throwing his head back in pleasure when he punches against the deepest parts of you, balls slapping against the crease between your thighs. You close your eyes, try to take yourself somewhere peaceful in your head. Just want this to be over. "You can close your eyes, but your body is on fire for me, princess. I can feel it, and I know you can, too."

He's right. Your limbs are trembling, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh like static in your ears. You climb higher with each stroke of his throbbing cock against your swollen walls. 

"Oh!" you  gasp, his lips latching onto your shoulder and sucking a purple bruise into your dewy skin. You can't take it, so close to shattering that your body just takes over. "I-, fuck!"

"Thank me. Say thank you when you come on my dick. Remember who makes you feel this good. Say it."

Your eyes roll back, a garbled mess of words spilling from your lips and your head pounding. You're wrecked, pliable and fucked out beneath him - your ruined, abused cunt gripping him so fucking tight, you barely register the loss as he withdraws. Your brain is hazy, the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your asshole making your eyes snap open in fright.

"N-ah!" you yelp, the crown of him punching through the tight ring of muscle, tip nestling inside as you tremble from the foreign intrusion. His hot, sticky spend splashes against your insides, sharp jerks of his hips sending shooting pains throughout your body.

"I said I was gonna fill you up. I didn't say where."

Ransom takes a minute, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the scent of your coconut conditioner. It sickens you, the way he praises you as your body lays lifeless beneath him while he recovers from his climax. 

You barely move when he lifts himself off you, you don't even blink as the sound of his belt buckle clinking alerts you to the fact that he's redressing. Your mind is shot, your body is wrecked, and you choke out a sob when you feel his come ooze out and nestle between your pussy lips. 

"Thanks for the date," he leans down and kisses you on the cheek, and you recoil in disgust. "Next time you seduce me like that, you could at least buy me flowers first. Oh, and don't forget to lock up. There are some real assholes out there."

[laurfilijames]

Jealous Heart

———

Requested by my naughty anon “E”, who wanted a needy/jealous smutty Kili. Thank you so much for coming to me for this! It’s been such a pleasure to write and I hope it meets your expectations. I’m honoured to have received this request- my first one ever! Enjoy your possessive and jealous Kili!

Pairing: Kili x female reader

Words: 3,222

Warnings: rated E. Vaginal fingering. M/F intercourse, unprotected. Kili is quite possessive in this.

Kili sat with his back rigid against the cold stone wall, arms folded across his chest, watching Y/N with fire in his eyes.

The tavern was bustling tonight. There was barely enough room to pass through the crowd to get to the bar for another ale, but still all Kili could focus on was you as if you were the only other person in the room.

He wanted you. Bad. But there you were for another night, laughing and being wooed by other patrons in the tavern. Other patrons who were far more suited to you than he could ever be.

The man who was currently stealing your attention, or caught completely under your spell was more like it, was a tall dark-haired man with a full, thick beard. His size towered over your frame, his rugged charm working to bring out your gorgeous smile, and the scene filled Kili with rage and jealousy.

He was a dwarf for pity’s sake, yet here this human sported facial hair that could challenge even Thorin’s kingly beard in all its glory! There was no way he could compete with that.

Kili felt like a disgrace, his mood continuing to fall as he began to pick at the bindings on his boot that was resting up on his knee.

How many times had he imagined you pressing your lips along his stubble-coated jawline, praising him for the intense pleasure he provided, begging him for more? Each time he touched himself it was to thoughts of you, pretending it was your gentle hands tugging on his hardened shaft. Since reclaiming Erebor he’d been with a few women, most of them eager to show their gratitude to one of their heroes, but the only one he really wanted, the only one he longed for, was you.

It seemed as though every other man in town- dwarf, elf or human- was captivated by you and tried for your affection. Who could blame them? You were perfect.

But watching them all set out after you night after night started to take its toll on Kili, the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head in the depths of his heart.

“You need to make a move, Kili, or Y/N will be long gone before you even have a chance to call for another ale,” his brother said pointedly with a nudge to his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He shook his head in defeat, glancing up to watch you throw your head back in laughter. Gods, you were a sight.

“There’s no use, Fili. I mean look at her!” he waved in your direction, your charisma infectious to everyone around you. But his doubt left him as soon as he looked your way again, feeling a rush of urgency to have you, to push away any man who threatened to seize you from his own reach, to claim you as his.

He sighed and looked at his brother beside him who took a long drag from his pipe, regarding you from across the room with an odd expression on his face. It almost looked as though Fili himself was considering making a move on you and the thought made even more anger rise up in Kili.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, having seen that same look on Fili’s face before when he was interested in a woman. He wouldn’t think twice about dumping his ale over his brother's head if it came down to it.

“No, no, I wouldn’t,” he assured him, “It just doesn’t seem like she’s actually enjoying herself,” he tipped his head in your direction, his moustache braids wagging with his movements. “You should go and rescue her.”

“You think?”

“Yes! Just go!” Fili gave him a hard push on his back, causing him to almost trip over his own feet as he stood from their table.

Kili took a deep breath before he made his way over, and when he was close enough he noticed a faint tinge of falseness in your eyes, an annoyed expression crossing your face. A feeling of possessiveness came over him now that he knew you weren’t interested in this man’s company, and he found it hard to control his anger.

“Kili! I was wondering when you were going to make your way over to see me!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm the second he joined your side, hoping he would catch the thanks that laced your tone for interrupting your conversation with the man who tried his best to persuade you into his bed each night.

“Y/N,” Kili greeted you shortly, staring up at the man across from you with a venomous look. “Is this man bothering you?”

You couldn’t help but notice how dark his eyes were and you wondered if the young Prince was jealous.

So you decided to have some fun, thinking maybe this was the way to get him to finally admit those feelings for you you always suspected he had.

“Not in the slightest,” you cooed, biting your lip to hold back your smile as his head whipped to look at you, his brows knitted tightly together.

When you saw his reaction, you couldn’t keep your face from splitting at his sheer disbelief that you could have been enjoying yourself. The other man sulked away and you sighed with relief, “I’m kidding! Thank you for coming over, I could only be nice for so long!”

Your hand automatically rested on his forearm, feeling the muscles shift underneath his skin when he clenched his fist, the movement sending a sensation through you that made your breath hitch.

Kili didn’t return your smile though. He looked at your hand that remained on his arm and shook his head slightly as he turned away from you.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a low voice, but you could see through his words. He leaned forward against the bar, forcing you to drop your hand from him, refusing to meet your gaze when you shifted your body to try and face him again.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.”

Another lie. You wanted to tell Kili just how badly you wanted him, that there was no way any other man could compare to him. You could sense his unease and longed to erase it with your lips, desperate to admit that anytime you were intimate with anyone it was him who you imagined being with.

Kili glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes when they met Fili’s who nodded at him to continue talking to you. He rubbed a hand over his face, strongly considering getting his next pint and heading back to the table without saying another word. There was no way he could muster the strength to push his jealous feelings aside and just tell you he fancied you.

But he was quickly persuaded, feeling the gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder.

“Kili, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me,” you said faintly. Even through the noise of the crowd your voice sang to him clear as day, and he longed to hear what other soft sounds he could coax from your lips.

“I can’t stand seeing you with other men,” he declared, the words leaving his mouth involuntarily as if staring at your lips had him in some sort of trance.

Your eyebrows flew up in shock as you processed his words, making him panic slightly. He reached for his full tankard and turned to leave, but stopped when you spoke.

“Why is that?”

He sighed again and brought himself to face you, looking at you with an unashamed need.

“I want you to be mine.”

You nodded slowly, hoping you heard him correctly over the commotion around you.

You’d had your eye on Kili ever since you were young, and seeing him now as a grown and proud warrior after reclaiming Erebor had you yearning for him even more. The truth was that you were often jealous of how much attention he received from other dams throughout the kingdom, constantly having to listen to them all gush over him. And now he was telling you he wanted you?

Not daring to miss your opportunity, you leaned your body close to his, pulling him toward you by tugging on his coat with one hand, the other moving to wrap around his muscular torso.

“I want you, too, Kili…”

His gaze made you squirm where you stood, his expression enough to break your boldness and make you want to submit to him right then and there.

Before you had any more time to think up the things you wanted him to do to you, Kili grabbed your hand and gave you the cheeky smile that made your heart do flips, spinning on his heel to drag you through the crowd behind him.

“Where are we going?!” you asked, surprised at his sudden ambition.

“Away from all of these people!” he explained over his shoulder, a mischievous look plastered on his face.

The pace of your steps matched his, equally zealous to get away from the crowd and find a quiet spot to be together, but before you even made it out the back door Kili turned toward you and pressed you against the wall, eagerly taking your lips in his.

His hands groped at you while your tongues collided, the warmth of his mouth and body radiating through whatever part of you he touched.

You moaned into him, his large hands pulling at your dress, trying to expose more of your chest to him. Kili’s lips left yours and flew to your neck, kissing a trail down your ticklish skin which made your moans turn to giggles. Just as he drove his thick thigh between your legs to part them someone walked past, interrupting your activities. You both broke out in laughter, unable to believe you were actually fondling each other in the hallway of the busiest tavern in all of Dale.

He attached his lips to yours again in a hurry, backing up to remove you from the wall and pulling you with him. You were stumbling over each other in your search for the exit, bumping into walls before finally crashing against the door that led outside.

You couldn’t get enough of each other and before you even made it around the corner you had successfully torn open his tunic, revealing dark hairs covering his strong chest. Your hands carded over his bare skin and you pushed your tongue deeper in his mouth, ecstatic to be in this moment with him.

You couldn’t help but squeal when he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his middle, carrying you the rest of the way over to a more secluded area behind the row of buildings.

“Kili, someone could see us!” you worried, but you didn’t truly care, knowing just how much you wanted the dark-haired archer. He placed you down, but you didn’t trust your shaking legs, your arms remaining around his neck for support.

“I know, but I need you, Y/N,” he looked at you with an ache in his eyes and you knew he meant it. “I need you now.”

You tugged at his hair as he consumed your mouth again, his hard cock pressing against the material of your dress which was straining to get through his trousers.

Your fingers fumbled with the laces on them, desperate to feel him in your hand. Teeth nipped at your neck in response to your endeavour, a deep groan leaving his mouth to air over your flushed skin as you reached in and freed his length. You knew he would be impressive in size, but this was more than you were expecting and your thighs squeezed together at the thought of him stretching you.

Your name came out of him with a hiss as you began stroking him, your thumb running small circles on his leaking tip, your touch turning him feral.

He bucked into your hand and attached his lips to yours once more, one hand clutching your waist to pull you closer while his other tore at your neckline to expose your breasts to him.

He parted from you to take the sight of you in, your bare chest heaving in anticipation, nipples taught in the cold, night air.

Kili’s face plunged to your cleavage, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your breast as he sucked on your peak while he gathered the material of your dress to ruck it up over your hips.

Although you were almost delirious from his actions, you continued to slowly pump his throbbing shaft, pausing only when he glanced up at you with a possessive look. His fingers grazed up your quivering thigh and now lingered against your wet folds, waiting for your consent. You pushed your hips forward, a signal of your need for him to touch you more. He happily complied, plunging a large finger inside your warmth, his thumb finding your swollen bud to circle and press on it. A moan left you and your body shuddered to his touch as he moved his finger in and out of you, then adding another to stretch you further.

“Kili…” you gasped, gripping onto his broad shoulder as you rode his hand while still jerking your own along his length in a steady rhythm.

He removed his fingers from your fluttering folds and gripped around the back of your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. You felt his spongy head press against your wetness and you gasped at the sensation, more than ready to take him in.

“I will make you forget any other man who has ever touched you,” he vowed in a rough tone, and you knew it would be true.

Kili grabbed onto your bum, pulling you closer to his body as he pushed through your entrance. Your head fell back against the wall as you stretched to fit him, thankful for how wet he had made you. But even with the amount of slick that coated your walls, his girth was enough to make you whimper and cry out.

“Am I too big for you, amrâlimê?” he asked in a low, husky voice, his breath tickling beside your ear, still continuing to push deeper into you regardless of your answer.

“No, Kili,” you managed to say through a moan, “Please don’t stop.”

He moved to rest his forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he bottomed out in you, his hips pressed firmly against yours.

“Good, because I want you to think of me with every step you take tomorrow.” His eyes were black in the moonlight, his words and his stare making you shiver. Kili moved so he was almost all the way out of you, making you miss the fullness he created, but thrusted back into you in one swift motion and you cried out again.

The sound of hips slapping against each other and your combined panting filled the quiet air as he worked to set a tempo, the tip of him contacting your deepest spot with every plunge that sent fire through your veins.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he declared, increasing his pace, determined to prove it.

You tugged at his hair and nodded in agreement, pulling him closer to you to capture his parted lips once more, eager to have him fulfill his promise.

As much as you didn’t want this to end, you knew neither of you would be able to last long. Feeling every inch of his thick cock slide in and out of you, hitting the perfect spot every time had your head spinning, each pump rubbing his coarse hairs against your swollen clit, getting you closer to your end.

His name fell freely from your raw lips, a mantra to the ecstasy he was giving you, which only brought more inspiration to the Prince.

“Kili…”

“That’s right, say my name,” he begged as he gripped harder on your hip to allow more traction to pound into you with even more force.

In addition to his ferociousness, the things he was saying to you wasn’t helping to prolong your session either. Kili continued spilling possessive proclamations from his mouth any time your lips weren’t locked together, making you feel powerful to have such an effect on him.

“I will be the only man who gets to make you feel this good,” he said hoarsely beside your ear, his intensity somehow increasing.

A cry escaped your lips as you began to climax, your walls clenching tightly around his member, your nails clawing at his back.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you, “let go. Let me have you, ghivashel.”

Allowing your body to give in to what it longed for so desperately, you did just as he told you and let yourself fall, shuddering around him as you came harshly, Kili not holding back as he pounded you over the edge. You felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely with his spend. He growled and with a twitch came down from his own high, your bodies in sync with each other, working as one. His lips met yours again in urgency while he still rocked slightly within you, the thickness and heat of his seed feeling exquisite against your fluttering core.

Kili remained encased by you, enjoying the feeling of you around him as he slowly softened. His forehead pressed against yours as you shared the same breath, and he couldn’t help but relish in the satisfaction of having you. You were his…

“I’ve needed you for so long, Y/N,” he admitted, “I needed to make you mine. I couldn’t bear to watch another man touch you, let alone look at you for another night.” He brushed his nose against yours, his lips moving against yours faintly while he spoke. “I should have done this long ago.”

You gave him an eager nod, “Yes, you should have, Kili. But we can make up for lost time.”

His mouth consumed yours again, a silent agreement that this wouldn’t be the last time he would prove to you that you belonged to him.

After a moment he pulled away from you, breaking the seal on your lips as well as the connection that remained of him inside you. As if feeling the loss immediately, he looked at you with a worried expression and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked you, searching your eyes with a gentleness that contrasted to his earlier passion.

“Of course I will,” you responded with a smile, seeing how your answer instantly brought one to his own face, his brown eyes glowing.

He kissed you sweetly and cupped your cheek with his warm palm, “Thank you. I want to be with you any moment I possibly can.”

Your smile grew at his confession, seeing the love he had for you, your heart swelling at what could come to fruition between you and the Prince.

Now that Kili had you, he knew he could never be without you. He took your hand in his and thanked Mahal as he led you through the night toward Erebor that he was now with his One, the only one he ever needed.

———

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian

Kili: @valquiria3000 @fandomfaery

[murphy-kitt]

red in tooth and claw (that’s your fatal flaw) - Phic Phight 2022

Everyone finds out Wes was right in the worst way possible.

WC: 2054 words

AO3 Link

—

Everyone’s heard of the rumours Wes Weston spouts out by now. And to no surprise— no one believes a single word of what he says.

Phantom being Fenton? It’s absurd. How could never-hurt-a-fly Fenton be the town hero who’s face of bravery never seems to crumble, and faces foes three times his size? None of it makes sense.

“I don’t see anyone else crafting up any reasons why he disappears.” mumbles Wes to himself as he traipses down the corridor. Students passing beside him jauntily change their tread, eager to avoid him, alongside a dirty look which they think he can’t spot. He's not oblivious.

Yet everyone else in this school seems to be. He thinks, narrowing his eyes as he spots Fenton across the corridor clearly sticking his arm through his locker door, pulling a stash of jumbled books with it. Work that’s probably unfinished and weeks overdue.

How does no one ever notice it? The pseudo-human freak isn’t exactly subtle with it.

It’s become a sort of a desperate competition at this point – Wes himself trailing behind, trying his damndest to get proof of Fenton being Phantom, but to no avail, it never succeeds.

“One day, I’ll get you.” He mouths to Fenton, eyes narrowed. In response, the raven haired teen only grins one of his infuriating trademark smirks – looking identical to Phantom. Frustration builds up in Wes as he averts his gaze, fists clenched, trying not to outburst.

Can’t have his reputation diminished more than it already is.

God, Weston. Frustrated by a smirk. He feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment and turns around, slamming his locker door shut.

Sometimes Wes considers giving it all up. Why should he bother? The hours of research, the painstakingly scribbled notes, the amount of broken cameras he’s had to replace with what little money he does have. All for what?

Stupid pride – that’s what.

He knows it’s stupid, petty, immature, eveything under the sun. But the effort is far too gone to give up now. Even when Fenton can manage to infuriate him by just smirking across the corridors – not even throwing a stupid sarcastic quip – he’ll still persevere.

A few minutes later, Wes turns around. Surely Fenton’s gone by now.

Nope.

Piercing eyes stare at him from the other end of the corridor, unblinking, glistening green in a certain light. Fenton simply stands. Frozen on the spot. Nothing.

A chill prickles down his spine as the fourteen year old gathers his books off the floor, trying to ignore the toxic eyes staring at him like a hawk. Yet even though as he scrambles down the hallway, Wes can still feel the ominous, vehement stare fixate onto him.

Seconds later, he’s barely down the other end of the corridor to head to class when a familiar chill fills the air. Everyone else knows it too, from the way they freeze like rabbits, eyes darting around in panic.

No words need to be spoken.

Ghost attack.

He looks back to where Fenton originally was standing like a statue — and sure enough. Gone as if he was never there. All the other students have fled, now he’s the only one standing in the empty corridor.

In the distance, a chorus of shouts and thumps echo down the school, but the teenager ignores it.

Maybe now is his chance — to finally win. To finally set things straight and prove to Fenton — and Caspar High — that he’s not one big joke.

Heart pounding, he fumbles with the zip of his backpack, trying to retrieve the camera inside, silently pleading that this camera won’t be the sixth victim at Phantom’s hands.

“Don't panic, everyone! The Fenton’s are here!”

Suddenly, Jack Fenton’s voice booms down the corridor, the two Fenton’s are there as if they materialised from nothing, brandished in more weapons than an army base and their jumpsuits the oh so eye-bleeding colours that they are.

At exactly the same time that Phantom swoops down through the ceiling and lands in the corridor.

Wes doesn’t utter a word.

“Where’s the ghost?” Phantom mutters, curling in on himself as he glances around the corridor, the weak wimpy posture that Wes sees consistently on Fenton but never Phantom.

The atmosphere of the room chills. If Fenton—Phantom can’t sense the ghost — then they’re all doomed. Even if the Fenton’s have some weird tracker, at least Wes can rely on Fenton to be reliable.

By now, he’d think people would’ve figured out that Fenton—Phantom has some sort of built-in tracker from how fast he’s able to appear at a ghost attack. But none of them have ever figured out the whole “secret identity” thing, so he doubts it.

Strangely, the Fenton’s don’t look the tiniest bit concerned. Maybe they already know where the ghost is.

“It worked!” Maddie Fenton’s mouth splits into a grin as she beams up at Jack, both looking as if they’ve hit the jackpot.

“W—what?” Phantom stutters, floating midair with uncertainty.

“Did you think we didn’t notice?” queries Maddie, raising an eyebrow, taking a step towards Phantom, who flinches back.

For a split second, he wonders if they’ve cracked Fenton’s identity — but that can’t be it. They wouldn’t shoot their own flesh and blood.

…Right?

“Uh..didn’t notice what?” Phantom licks his lips, a hand making its way to rest at the nape of his neck. Yet again, another trait of Fenton leaks through to the ghost side.

”Oh come on ghost. Did you really think that we’re that stupid?” scoffs Jack.

”Well no, actually.” objects the ghost, “You’re the leading scientists in ectobiology. Except from some of your practices being a bit…questionable…you did make a functioning portal into the Ghost Zone. And the weapons all work effectively.”

"Don't be such a soft soap." Maddie scoffs, folding her arms, “We all know that’s just an act.”

Must be hard, having to act like they’re not his parents, ponders Wes. He’s never really thought about it — how both the older Fenton’s actively hunt Phantom, threaten him on a daily basis, sometimes even shoot him. Fenton has to deal with the idea that in his parents eyes — he’s something they hate.

Mainly, Wes’ focus has only ever been on ending the prolonged game of cat and mouse that him and Fenton have going. Once and for all.

“It’s…it’s true though! I want to help people! I want to protect Amity!” insists Phantom, green eyes narrowed towards both ghost hunters.

Unflinching from the onslaught of protests, Maddie steps forward cleanly.

“Liar!” she spits, barely metres away from the ghost who’s secretly her son. “You may have this whole town wrapped around your finger, but you’ll never convince me and Jack. Ghosts are monsters .”

With the ghost and hunter occupied, Wes can’t help but notice Jack retrieving something out of his jumpsuit pocket.

The ghost barely contains a second flinch, curling in on himself.

Ouch.

”What—what do you know?” Dejectedly, Phantom asks, head hung low, deliberately averting his gaze to the floor.

Probably so they can’t see the tears, Wes thinks.

Suddenly, the whirr of an ectogun sounds.

One second, Phantom’s floating, and the next he’s a smoking, pathetic heap on the floor, clutching at his chest. Green spatters on the floor.

Above him, Jack stands, the ectogun still smoking from the shot. He retrieves a second item from his pocket.

A tiny blob ghost, in an equally as tiny containment capsule. The tiny green blob squeaks lightly as Phantom’s eyes broaden in suprise.

”You…” stumbles the ghost, his breathing quickening as he clutches his chest, “I-I don’t get it.”

Worry begins to seep into Wes as he notices the worrying amount of unnatural green begin to pool onto the floor.

”We know you can sense ghosts.” shrugs Maddie, as if the ghost in front of her isn’t writhing in agony from the shot, “And what better way to lure you in with another ghost?”

”Why here?! Your kids go to this school! So many people!” spits the teenager ghost, eyes narrowed with malice.

”Don’t mention my children!” Maddie states coldly, “This is the area you frequent the most. There’s no one here, either.”

”But he’s your kid.” Wes can’t help but hiss under his breath, slamming his hand over his mouth in an instant. If they’d heard his remark…then Danny’s done for.

Three pairs of eyes stare at him like a hawk.

”Scram kid.” announces Jack, “This is ghost hunter business.”

Breath hitching — from the shock of the Fenton’s shooting their own son — Wes presses against his locker, attempting to slow his breathing. They’re gonna confront him, aren’t they?

If — if they’re capable of doing that to Danny…then…then what’ll they do to him?

You’re human, though. Fenton is a ghost — but also partially (?) human.

To his relief and suprise, they don’t do anything — simply turn around and face the wounded ghost — their son — on the floor.

“How do you think we should transport it, Mads?” asks Jack in hushed tones, leaning in closer to his wife.

”Carry it?” she inquests, then shakes her head, “No. We’d be seen.”

”I’d ‘preciate if I wasn't called ‘n it...” Phantom trails off, stealing a frantic glance towards Wes as he begins chattering, “I don’ think capturing me would be a very good idea. Uh…I…I think you’d regret it quite a bit — so if you could just…let me go? That’d be excellent also…”

“No.” Is the instant response.

”Ohhkay…” Phantom slurs off, trepidation clear in his sprawling figure, “..but don’ get scalpels…not much left to look anyway...” His hands gesture out sloppily into the bloodbath.

Wes wants to run up, wants to do something — intercept the Fenton’s, get Danny out of there. In the past, he’s never left an opportunity unturned, any type of rabbit hole he’ll dive right into. Any opportunity to reveal Fenton’s identity as Phantom — he’d take it in a heartbeat.

But now? His feet are glued to the floor. Unmoving.

Bile rises in his throat as the ginger haired teen notices the green liquid still pooling out onto the tiles like a waterfall, now a murky green and reddish mess. Had Fenton’s skin always been that pale — even as a ghost?

All of a sudden, Phantom’s body slumps to the floor limply, and Wes feels his heart drop to his chest.

Oh God no.

Edged with nervousness, he watches Maddie hesitantly bend down and poke the ghosts shoulder, before retracting her hand and wiping it on her HAZMAT with disgust.

”Out cold turkey.” whistles Jack, an impressed edge to his voice as he glances to the ectogun he’d shot the alleged town protector with, “Who new these new prototypes would be so effective? One shot and it’s down.”

Danny doesn’t move a muscle.

Horror flips in Wes’ stomach as an oh-so familiar halo of light appears around Danny’s stomach. The one thing to ignite Wes’ obsession — to reveal Danny’s identity.

Simultaneously, flounders of footsteps sound down the corridors. Students returning back to class.

The halo begins to split.

Maddie and Jack watch with morbid curiosity.

Students, hapless within the whole situation, also watch with a keen interest and concern for their hero.

What’s happening?

The halo spread and dissipates, leaving behind a chorus of horrified gasps, and the limp human body of someone who’s familiar to them all.

Jack and Maddie’s stricken glances can’t be missed. The clatter of the ectogun to the group. Maddie’s bleary face. The naive squeals of the blob ghost in its container.

Clamouring students mulling with confusion. Some pointing with horror. The jumble of horrified remarks and gossip becomes one tangled mess.

He remains silent. All this time — all this time he’d wanted this. To win against Danny and his stupid taunting and finally prove that he was right. To end the torment of not being believed, the strange glances, everything.

Once he won the game, everything would be better.

Better for him.

And what — what about Danny? He’d never thought.

And here it is — Wes has what he’s always wanted. To win. To be proven right.

But — but not like this.

As he remains fixated on the bloody and battered body of Danny Fenton splayed on the floor, Wes begins to think that maybe this was never meant to be a competition.

[titsuya]

# HQ BOYS BASED OFF SAD SONGS IN MY PLAYLIST

angst to fluff scenarios i wrote while listening to my depressing playlist.

STARRING: SAKUSA KIYOOMI, USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, SUNA RINTARŌ w/ gn!reader

warning: hurt/comfort, swearing

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: i linked the songs they were based off ! this was SO fun to write & hope u guys enjoy it ! i might make a pt. 2, idk yet :D

send me asks! — m.list — me ! — likes & reblogs appreciated !

SAKUSA KIYOOMI — enough for you 0.7k

you didn’t even know how much fight you had left in you. you and sakusa have been fighting for over an hour about the smallest thing.

you just wanted to share your opinion on how he was always yelling at you and making arguments out of nothing. how much you miss him and the love he once gave you, but as always, sakusa wanted to argue about it.

“kiyoomi, you’re not even listening to me!” you yell, exasperated.

“well, maybe it’s because everything that comes out of your mouth is just fucking stupid, (y/n), have you ever thought about that? hmm?” he yells back, “god, maybe if you weren’t so simple minded—“

you feel like you’re about to throw up when he cuts himself off, “then what, sakusa?” you choke out, your voice watery, but he doesn’t reply. “then fucking what?”

you two stand there staring at each other and you feel tears falling down your face.

“all i wanted was to be enough for you,” you whisper before grabbing your jacket and walking out to spend the night at your friends place.

sakusa feels like he’s frozen to the ground. he never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough for him. you were perfect. more than enough.

“wait… don’t…” he grabs your arm, but you snatch it back.

“don’t touch me,” you snap, voice cracking and he nearly jumps back, “don’t make me feel like an idiot and then try and make it better. you always do this!” you sob out.

to be honest, you love him. so much. so much that it hurts to be without him. you just missed the way he loved you like you love him.

sakusa starts to panic at the thought of you being done for good. words getting caught in his throat, eyes widening at the broken look in your eyes.

you’re about to walk out the door but then he finally blurts out, “i didn’t mean it!”

you just scoff, “why’d you say it then?”

“i-i don’t know, but please.”

you turn to look at him, unsure of what you should do. how do you know he won’t do it again?

he takes a deep breath, “you… are the only person i have ever loved. i don’t know how to begin to tell you… how much you mean to me. i’m sorry i neglected you… i’m sorry i made you feel like you weren’t enough for me… you are. you are the most perfect person i’ve ever met. i envy the way you are with me. i wish i could be there for you to hold you when you have a bad day. the same way you are for me… i wish you knew how much i love you.”

the tears streaming down his face shock you. you’ve never seen your boyfriend cry before because he’s always been so good at bottling up his emotions, and you start to think.

maybe that’s why everything always turns into an argument.

“most of all, i’m sorry that i’m always yelling at you… you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’s gonna show you they love you. you deserve to have someone who will hold you when you have a bad day. you don’t deserve to feel the pain i brought you, i’m so sorry,” he’s looking at his feet, hands clenched in tight fists.

you wrap your arms around him, “omi, i love you so so much,” you sob into his chest. “i just wanted you to love me like how you used to. i hate fighting with you,”

he sniffles, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. “i’m sorry, baby.” he whispers. “i’m gonna be better, just for you. i’m gonna listen to you every time you want to tell me something. i hate fighting with you, too. i’m sorry i pick fights with you for no reason.”

you sob even harder, squeezing him tighter because this is everything you wanted. you wanted to feel this love.

“i might not get all the hugs i want, but that just makes every time you hug me more special,” you mumble after a few minutes.

“i’ll make sure to hug you more so you feel special all the time,”

it finally feels like enough.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — come into the water 0.8k

you look at the time.

9:07 p.m.

another night you spend alone, picking at your dinner plate. you stare at the empty plate meant for ushijima in front of you.

you wonder if he’d even remembered. if he’d remembered that it was your anniversary.

you sit there like an idiot. dressed nicely and dolled up just for him to miss dinner.

you’re over it. all the nights you spend alone. you understood how important volleyball was to him, but for him to completely neglect you. it hurt you.

you were cleaning up when you hear the door open and close. not even bothering to turn around, you let out a sigh.

“good evening, (y/n),” his deep voice rumbled once he saw you. “i’m assuming you’ve already eaten?”

“what’s it look like?” you mutter, unamused.

he raised an eyebrow, confused at the foreign tone of your voice. “did i do something to upset you?”

you let out a scoff, faux smile put on to your face because— of course he didn’t even bother to remember.

“it’s whatever. not like it mattered much anyways. food’s in the fridge if you’re hungry.” you shrug, leaving him alone, dumbfounded.

he stands the and furrows his brows for a few seconds before deciding to follow you. when he walks into your shared bedroom, he finds that you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom.

i’m such an idiot, you thought to yourself.

you didn’t think it was possible to fall in love till you met ushijima all those years ago. it was love at first sight for you. although he was intimidating and gave off the vibe that he didn’t have any feelings to others, you saw past it. you saw that he actually knows how to smile and that he knows how to make someone feel special.

but as time went on, you saw less of his smile and you felt less special. he hasn’t touched you in weeks. not a hug, not a kiss, not a single touch.

you felt inferior, in all honesty. you never thought you’d be jealous of a ball, but here you were. crying in the bathroom over the fact that you try so hard to get his attention, but it never works.

ushijima feels weird on the other side of the door. there’s this foreign pang in his chest and he feels like there’s something wrong, so he knocks on the bathroom floor.

“(y/n),” he says. “are you alright?”

you’re eyes widen, wiping your tears and adjusting the hoodie you had slipped into before opening the door.

“i’m fine,” you say, curtly.

he studies your face and notices your watery lash line and semi blood shot eyes.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his said to the side. at this, tears brim in your eyes.

every insecurity you had about your relationship festering in your brain was becoming evident in the way you were with him.

your voice cracked in asking, “a-am i… am i still what you want?”

“huh?”

the tears begin to stream down your face before you can stop them.

“i just want to know if you still want me, wakatoshi… it’s okay if you don’t, i understand, but…”

you can’t even bear to finish say they last part of your sentence, knowing your voice was going to give out on you.

so you whisper, “please… tell me if i need to move on.”

he furrows his brows, looking at you intently, “why wouldn’t i want you?” his question is sincere.

“we don’t even act like a couple anymore, toshi… we don’t talk or touch… we just exist,” you cry, softly, unable to hold back anymore. “today was our anniversary, and— and i made dinner and i got pretty for you… and i just…”

he watches you put your face in your hands as you sob, quietly. he frowns at the sight. it was never his intention to hurt you or make you feel like you weren’t wanted because he does love you. endlessly.

he sighs, guiltily, “i’m very sorry, (y/n). i love you very much and i apologize for missing our anniversary. i do want you. very much, actually.”

he pulls you in for a tight hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“i hope you find it to forgive me. i will spend however long proving how sorry i am,” he continues. “if that means i have to be the… so-called little spoon, then so be it.”

you giggle, softly into his chest, “i love you, toshi, and i’m gonna take you up on that offer.”

SUNA RINTARŌ — bags 1.1k+ (sorry i went overboard for my bf)

how do you tell your best friend you love them?

was it as simple as it was in the movies? did the main protagonists have the sheer fear of losing the person they loved once admitting their feelings?

maybe that was just movies and you were confusing that for reality. who knows?

“(y/n), are you listening to me?” suna chuckles, snapping his fingers a few times in front of your face.

you snap out of your thoughts, quickly.

“rin, don’t snap at me, im not a dog,” you roll your eyes, leaning back into the couch. “what were you saying?”

he smiles and you feel your heart about to beat out of your chest.

you met suna in college through your major and you’ve been in love with him since. his nonchalant attitude and the way he carried himself had you weak.

but you never knew if the feelings you had were reciprocated. every time the two of you hung out, you couldn’t tell if you two were flirting or if it was just super friendly.

the nicknames, the deep talks (where it’s just mainly him listening to you), the late night car rides— it meant so much to you.

every friday night, the two of you sit on his couch and talk about the most random things to waste time when all you wanted was to kiss him and cuddle him.

“wanna watch the new episode?” he asks.

you sigh. you don’t want to watch the new episode, you want to kiss his face stupid. you didn’t want to keep watching this stupid tv every friday.

“no thanks, rinnie,” you sigh. “i was actually hoping we could talk?” you ask before thinking.

were you really about to confess to your best friend of 3 years? even though this could potentially ruin your relationship?

and you may never see him again?

he groans, loudly, “stop calling me that you bitch!” he jokes.

“you know it’s rude to call the only person who can put up with you a bitch!” you exclaim, slapping his shoulder playfully.

you’ll miss that.

he laughs loudly.

you’ll miss that, too.

“what’d you wanna talk about?” he asks, turning his body and crossing his legs on the couch to face you.

the smile on your face fades as you feel your stomach churns. you swear even he could hear the way your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

“i… um…”

“wow, (y/n) at loss for words? should i be worried?” he jokes and you feel a little more insecure than before about telling him.

“i wanted to say that,” you trail off, voice getting softer and softer. “iwantedtosaythatilikeyou.”

he stares at you for a second but then his eyes widen after realizing what you.

he lets out a laugh, at least that what sounds like one.

“very funny, (y/n),” he laughs, loudly, figuring you were just joking around.

your heart feels like its been cracked into a million pieces.

at least we can recover from this, you think to yourself. at least he won’t have to hide from me.

at least i still have him.

“yeah, sorry!” you give him a faux laugh. “thought i’d just trick you.”

rin watched as you smiled at him, but he’s observant. he always has been. especially when it came to you.

it’s silent in the room, but not the type of silence that either of you are comfortable with. it’s unsettling and it makes you both uneasy. it’s just awkward.

“it’s getting late, though, so i should probably get going, rintarō,” you finally speak up, checking the time on your phone.

ouch… he thinks to himself. what happened to rinnie?

“you’re, uh, not gonna spend the night?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he sees you stand and grab your bag.

“nah,” you wave him off. “i forgot i have someone to see tomorrow. i’d probably end up sleeping the entire day if i stayed.”

he frowns to himself, “oh… okay, ill see you later then, right?”

you nod, “yeah. i’ll see you.”

you walk out leaving suna alone with himself and his thoughts. he hopes he can see you again soon.

weeks pass, though. he hasn’t seen you in literal weeks. he’s texted you multiple times just for you to respond dryly or with one-worded responses.

rinnie <3: hey wanna go skate with me ?

you: can’t, i’m busy

rinnie <3: ok ?? i didn’t ask if u were busy 🙄 i just wanna see u soon, so lmk when u aren’t maybe ?

more days pass by and you’ve stopped responding to him completely. every time he comes over, you coincidentally find yourself somewhere else.

not really, you just have his location on and want to avoid him at all costs so you can get over this silly little crush.

but suna rintarō is a lot smarter than you think he is, so he turns off his location on every app and drives over to your apartment.

he knocks on the door and you, expecting your roommate, open it to reveal his face.

your heart drops to your stomach and your facial expression immediately drops, fear and anxiety evident on your face.

“(y/n),” he says sternly. “literally what the fuck? where have you been?”

he seems angry, you think to yourself. maybe this made it worse.

you shrug, “i don’t know what you’re talking about rintarō, but i’m busy—“

“stop fucking calling me that! i’m your rinnie, what happened to that?” he exclaims, exasperated. “why… why are you ignoring me?”

your eyes fill with tears and your lip wobbles. at this, suna’s eyes widen. he steps inside closing the door behind him.

“(y/n), what’s wrong?”

“i-i told you how i felt, rin,” your watery voice cracks. “y-you… you just ignored it and… and made fun of me! why would i want to face you? i feel humiliated!”

“(y/n)…”

“i know you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay,” you say lowly.

“(y/n).”

“i just need some time—“

“(y/n)! for the love of god, maybe if you got your head out of your ass and actually listened to me, you’d know that i’m literally in love with you!” he snaps at you and you freeze in place.

you don’t know if you heard him correctly. “in love…?”

“yes, dumbass,” his cheeks burn red. “i love you, i have for a long time, but i was scared,”

suna doesn’t get this vulnerable often. maybe once every blue moon, so for him to say all of that. it feels genuine.

“you… you… love me?” you whisper, tears falling down your face faster. “you’re not playing with me?”

“c’mere,” he wraps his arms around your body, tightly. “shh, angel. ‘m sorry for making you doubt me. i do love you a lot.”

“i love you, too, rinnie.”

© all works belong to @titsuya 2021, please do not repost, modify, or translate any of my works on any platform

[boowanie]

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst and fluff

Warnings: Minor character death and slight mention of a panic attack. 

WC: 6.7K+

Summary: You never thought that the stranger you met one night would become someone special to you.

“What’s happening?” Wonwoo called out as soon as he set foot into the house he shared with his close friends. He could hear the distant shouting happening somewhere in the house, a possible indication of a fight occurring between his housemates again. And he was right, there stood Seokmin and Mingyu, throwing harsh words at each other; something to do with dirty laundry sprawled across the kitchen floor.

“Didn’t I tell you to do your laundry THREE days ago Seokmin?” Mingyu bellowed at the top of his lungs. Seokmin’s glare only intensified as he clenched his right hand into a fist. Wonwoo stood at the bottom of the stairs, worried eyes observing the two.

“You yell at me for nagging you but here you are doing the same thing!” Seokmin snapped back. Before Mingyu could reply back, Joshua came in between the two, stretching his arms out to separate the fuming boys.

“Alright boys, it’s just laundry. Seokmin do your laundry now and Mingyu, take a nap to cool off or something.”

Seokmin turned on his heels, rushing down the stairs to do as he was told, greeting Wonwoo with an apologetic smile. Wonwoo sighed, walking up to his room to get the rest he was yearning for for the past week. He closed his door, padding towards his window to move the curtains shut. Without any source of light coming into his room, he laid down on his unmade bed, sighing as his head softly hit the pillows.

Wonwoo didn’t realise he fell asleep until a gentle nudge awoke him from his nap. “Wonu, it’s dinner time,” Soonyoung whispered, afraid to frighten Wonwoo with his normal tone of voice.

Wonwoo hummed in response, nuzzling his head against the pillow, “I’ll be down in a sec, Hoshi.” Soonyoung patted his cheek gently before making his way out of the room while Wonwoo tried his best to sleep again. However, Wonwoo’s ear perked up to the sound of his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans.

He released an irritated sigh as he unhurriedly answered the phone. “Hello?” Wonwoo greeted with sleep dripping from his voice. “Wonwoo?” the person on the other line asked. Wonwoo’s sleepy eyes widened at the sound of Jiyeon’s, his ex-girlfriend’s, voice. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as Wonwoo sat up on his bed.

“What do you want?” he asked without any hint of friendliness in his voice. He heard something shuffle on Jiyeon’s end before she began to sob uncontrollably. Wonwoo could only roll his eyes at how pathetic she could be.

“P-please take me back, I promise I’ll be faithful to you and only you. He was a mistake, you have to believe me,” Jiyeon cried but Wonwoo remained stoic despite her pleas. He muttered a quick “no” before ending the call with her. He sighed for the last time before laying back down on his bed again.

—

Wonwoo devoured the pork belly Jeonghan left on the kitchen table for him since he took another nap after the unexpected call from Jiyeon. He began to ponder on the idea of getting back with his ex while he placed his plate on the rack. However, he quickly dismissed the idea after he remembered the pain he went through when he caught Jiyeon and her classmate in the middle of a makeout session on her bed. Wonwoo couldn’t believe his eyes and his first instinct was to punch the guy before fleeing the scene in tears.

But he couldn’t deny the hurt coursing through him after the phonecall he had with her but he also knew it was wrong to keep hurting himself like that. His eyes lingered on the washed plate, blinking once in awhile to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. Mingyu, who entered the kitchen not too long ago, watched him as he leaned silently on the fridge, careful not to scare him although it failed as soon as Wonwoo faced the door. The older male jumped, clutching his chest in the process. “Kim Mingyu, what the hell?” Mingyu waved at him from where he was standing, a sad smile on his lips.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo shook his head, knowing that he had already drunkenly poured out his feelings to Mingyu and the rest of his housemates for weeks after the breakup. He didn’t want to burden them more with his personal problems.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I just need to get some fresh air.”

—

He wandered around his university campus, finding the empty rooftop Mingyu mentioned the night before. Mingyu discovered it after a stressful exam where he walked around campus, trying to find somewhere to spill his tears. And that’s when he found the rooftop of the science building, empty and abandoned through the blurriness of his tears.

Wonwoo spotted the science building and made his way up through a secret passage that Mingyu instructed him to take. He climbed the rusty stairs that creaked with every step he took which alarmed him but he continued his way up anyway. When he got to the top, he found the door shut tightly which he nudged open with all the force he could muster.

When the door finally budged, Wonwoo heard a loud curse which made him panic at the sound coming from the other side.

“Who the fuck?”

“Shit I’m so so so sorry-”

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, help me up.”

Wonwoo blinked at you for a couple of seconds before your words registered in his mind. He let out a faint “oh right” before offering you his hand. You gladly took it, wincing at the shooting pain in your elbow which you were convinced was bleeding.

“Fuck, my elbow’s bleeding. Thanks a lot you idiot.”

Wonwoo reached out to grab your elbow in his hand. His eyes lingered on your bleeding elbow before taking some unused tissues that were shoved in his coat pocket. He dabbed the tissue on the bleeding wound, wincing now and again.

“You do know I’m the one bleeding and not you?” you scoffed, your eyes focused on his face rather than the blood trickling down your elbow.

“You shouldn’t have been standing there anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.

“So you think it’s my fault?” you questioned.

“No, why are you even up here at this ungodly hour,” he whispered, not wanting you to hear.

“I could ask you the same,” you replied. Wonwoo took out another tissue and asked you to hold it in place since he didn’t have any band aids with him, but you shrugged off his order and thanked him instead before taking a seat on the ground. You chugged the remaining beer in your can and crushed it with your hands.

Wonwoo watched you with curious eyes as you cracked open another can and handed it over to him. You stood up and gathered the cans of beer lying on the ground before making your way towards the door.

“Rooftop’s all yours.”

You were gone before Wonwoo could answer. He began to wonder who you were and what you were doing on the rooftop at this hour of the night but he realised that maybe you were here for the same reason he was; to get away from reality. He took a long sip of the beer you handed him, his eyes spotting a notebook where the crush cans were once scattered.

He reached out, reading the black ink across the cover of the notebook, y/n. he didn’t mean to flip through it but curiosity got the better of him and he opened the notebook to find art pieces scattered on the pages.

“Huh, aren’t you a mystery.”

—

You awoke the following morning to the sound of your roommate yelling at you. As soon as you opened your eyes, you instantly massaged your temples to soothe your throbbing headache but it wasn’t enough to calm the soreness you were feeling. Your roommate’s voice did nothing to help ease the pain and Seungkwan only worsened it by pushing your bedroom door against the wall with a loud thud.

“Drunk again?” he huffed, pinching his nostrils close to stop the smell of alcohol from making him gag. Seungkwan never liked it when you drank, he didn’t like the smell and he certainly hated the fact that you were slowly drowning yourself with alcohol to make the pain of losing someone go away. Seungkwan tried to convince you that he could help but you always turned down his offer with a lousy excuse that you “can handle it”. As a year passed by, your drinking habit only worsened but you still managed to ace your classes and somehow function with all the alcohol that was in your system.

“That’s the last time I’ll ever drink Seungkwan, I promise,” you stuck your pinky finger towards him, wiggling it as you waited for him to wrap his own around your finger. You really wanted to stop and this time, you wanted to keep your promise to your bestfriend to ease the worries he had for you and your health. Seungkwan could only sigh at his bestfriend as he took your pinky finger around his.

“I made you hangover soup y/n” is all he said after he turned on his heel and left your room with a quiet sigh. You looked around your room, the curtains still shut to prevent any source of light from shining through the window but the god awful smell of alcohol that reeked in your room was enough for you to stand up and pull the curtains open. You nudged the window with your hand and the sudden gust of wind had you almost stepping back by its force. You still welcomed it and as you cleaned around your room, the smell of alcohol slowly dissipated (with the help of some yankee candles).

When you entered the kitchen, the smell of bacon made your stomach churn and your nose wrinkle at the slight scent of burning food. “Seungkwan! your bacon is burning,” you yelled, walking over to remove the bacon from the frying pan. You heard Seungkwan yell something you couldn’t quite hear so you shrugged and turned off the hob. Your eyes landed on the hangover soup he made you and your stomach growled at the sight. 

“Thanks for the soup, Kwannie,” you yelled out to him.

You were thankful for the fact that your photography lecture didn’t start until one in the afternoon so you had plenty of time to soothe your headache and plan out your night carefully without having to involve bottles and bottles of soju this time. You wanted to go up to the rooftop to retrieve your notebook that you forgot to take before leaving the handsome stranger all alone. 

Your mind wandered back to him. You remembered the panic in his eyes when he saw the blood gushing down your elbow and it made you chuckle slightly. You lifted up your elbow to glance down if a scab was starting to form on the wound. Your grimaced at the sight and continued to eat your soup again.

“Hey, I found this in your jacket,” Seungkwan held up some bloody tissues with a worried look on his face. You shook your head at him, raising your pointer finger asking him to wait.

“I fell yesterday,” you finally spoke once your mouth was clear of any traces of food. Seungkwan quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands settling on his hips to wait for an explanation. 

“I was up at the rooftop last night and some guy pushed the door open and I happened to be sitting right in front of it which was totally my fault,” you explained. You watched as your bestfriend sighed, walking over to the bin to throw at the tissues.

“You should be more careful next time y/n.”

“Sorry Seungkwan,” you picked at your food guiltily. You didn’t want to worry him all the time but you always manage to anyway. He watched you pick at your food for a while before making his way over towards you.

“Look at me,” he muttered softly, bringing his hand under your chin. You raised your head to look up at him. He gave you a small smile before pressing his lips on your forehead.

“You know I’ll always be here for you y/n, right?”

—

Wonwoo awoke not too long ago because of Seokmin and Mingyu yet again. He rolled his eyes when he heard Mingyu yelling as Seokmin chased him around the house. He stretched his arms above his head, his top slowly riding up to reveal a small section of his lower stomach. He grabbed his glasses that were sitting on his bedside table along with the notebook that belonged to you.

He mentally noted to ask Minghao if he knew anyone called “y/n”. It seemed like you were an art student so Minghao was the first person he thought of. He stood up from his made and made his way over to his bathroom to start getting ready for his morning lectures.

He brushed his teeth slowly, his mind wandering back to how you cursed at him last night which made him chuckle at the memory. He didn’t mean to continue flipping through your artwork last night but he was mesmirised by your pieces. He even found a picture of you tucked between the last few pages of your notebook and he admired the small smile that you gave the camera. 

“WONU!” Mingyu yelled from outside, making him slightly choke on water as he gargled.

“Food’s ready downstairs!” 

“I’ll be out in a sec Mingyu.”

—

You fished out your phone from your pocket, turning the flashlight on to help you see the rusty stairs better. The sound of the stairs leading to the rooftop creaked slightly with every step you took. 

“These steps are going to break one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, keeping the cup of coffee near your chest to warm you up. The weather didn’t co-operate with you tonight. You were forced to wear something warm by your bestfriend and he even made you wear a beanie to protect your head from the cold.

As soon as you got to the top, you pushed the door open with your frame. When the steel door finally opened, you quickly heard a loud thud when it hit something or someone as soon as it opened. 

“Shit,” you heard a deep voice say from the other side.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you began to apologise as you pulled the door shut to reveal the person that was standing behind it and to your surprise, you found the stranger from last night, clutching his arm tightly. You both gave each other a look of shock before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“You again?” you both said at the same time.

“I guess I deserved that,” Wonwoo said, sitting back down on the ground. You gave him a guilty look before sitting beside him. 

“I’m really sorry about your arm,” you said, poking it before sipping on your hot coffee. He quirked an eyebrow at you, “I’m surprised you’re not cursing me out right now.” You gave him another guilty look, blowing on your coffee and taking another sip to before answering him.

“That wasn’t me yesterday,” you said, giggling as Wonwoo rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t even know your name,” you laughed.

“I remember you giving me a name last night though.”

“What?”

“Yeah, something along the lines of idiot,” he teased, watching as your eyes widened in surprise again.

“I’m so embarrassing,” you groaned, placing your coffee on the ground to cover your heating face with your hands. You heard Wonwoo laugh at your embarrassment, patting your back as you continued to mutter words to yourself.

“Don’t sweat about it y/n,” he giggled. Your ears perked up to the sound of your name leaving his lips, not remembering if you told him your name or not.

“How’d you know my name,” you asked, removing your hands away from your face. He gave you a shy smile before pulling your missing notebook out of his jacket. He waved it around before handing it back to you.

“You forgot this last night and I may have snooped around.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..I was just really intrigued by your art. They’re all amazing by the way,” he complimented, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at you.

“Oh no, it’s absolutely okay. Thanks for bringing it back to me and thanks for the compliments,” you shyly replied, picking up your cup of coffee again. Comfortable silence enveloped you while you both looked at the bright moon. You suddenly remembered why you were up here.

“Shoot,” you whispered, fishing out your camera that was tucked carefully in your jacket. 

“Do you mind if I do something for my photography class?” you glaced at Wonwoo.

“No go ahead,” he smiled.

Wonwoo watched as you brought the camera up to face, adjusting the lens before taking multiple shots of the night sky. Wonwoo would be lying if he didn’t think the view before him was mesmerising. He didn’t know why the beating of his heart fastened when you looked satisfied at the shots you took.

“Can I ask for your opinion...” you started.

“Wonwoo.”

“Right, so can I ask for your opinion on these pictures Wonwoo?” you shyly asked him, tucking piece of hair behind your ear.

“Let me see them,” he scooted closer to you, leaning down to look at the pictures.

And that’s how you and Wonwoo spent the rest of the night, chatting about your art, his course and anything that you and him could think of. You and Wonwoo didn’t realise it was past one in the morning until Seungkwan texted you to come home.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, quickly standing up and gathering your notebook and the empty cup of coffee in your hands. Wonwoo also stood up, taking his phone out before thrusting it in your direction.

“C-can I maybe have your number y/n? I’d really like to talk to you more,” he asked, his ears turning red at his own question. You nodded, taking his phone to put your number in his contacts. 

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment if you want?” he offered.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you replied, chucking the empty cup into the bed as soon as you got down from the rooftop.

“Let’s get you home then.”

—

You tapped your fingers on your thighs, waiting patiently for Wonwoo to come pick you up from your apartment. It had been four months since you and Wonwoo met on the rooftop. You both realised how much you complimented each other. It was nice that he got you to experience some of his hobbies while you taught him the things you were learning in your photography lectures. He was also patient with you whenever you were in one of your moods while you gave him the space he needed whenever he was having a hard time with things he would rather not tell you, yet.

Seungkwan and Mingyu even thought that you and him were good for each other. You were barely drinking now and even if you did, it was always with Wonwoo at the convenience store, talking about everything and anything your minds could think of.

You’ve grown to love Wonwoo’s company.

Woo 🐱: I’m outside your apartment bld ☺️

You: Be down in a sec 💕

You yelled out to Seungkwan that you were going, slipping your shoes on by the door before leaving your apartment with a big smile on your face. You and Wonwoo decided to visit the museum outside your university campus. You were excited to to find some inspiration for your upcoming art project and Wonwoo just wanted to spend time with you.

“Hey,” you walked over to Wonwoo, giving him a side hug.

“Do you think you’d be able to come with me to the recording studio after going to the museum?” he grabbed your elbow before crossing the street to get to the bus stop.

“Yeah, are you and Jihoon recording a new song?” you hummed, taking out your bus card when you saw the bus approaching.

“Yeah, it’s for our music theory class. Jihoon wanted to put some vocals on his new track so he asked me to be his partner.”

You’ve never heard Wonwoo sing but according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, he sounded angelic whenever he sung.

“Can’t wait,” you tapped your bus card, taking a seat at the back by the window. Wonwoo followed you, sitting beside and leaning his head on your shoulder. He yawned, closing his eyes and nuzzling his head against your shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Just a little bit,” he yawned again.

“I’ll wake you up when we’re near.”

—

You walked around the museum in silence with your notebook in hand, doodling some pieces that sparked your interest. Wonwoo, on the other hand, read each and every information that came along with the art pieces. You found it adorable when he would tilt his head as he focused on reading the information. He would look at you whenever you giggled at him, smiling and nudging you with his hip.

Your eyes landed on the final artwork in the museum, a grin making its way to your face. It was a simple artwork of the moon but the different shades of dark colours to mimic the sky made you more and more interested in the artwork. Wonwoo finally caught up to you and stood by your side.

“I..i think this is my favourite out of them all y/n,” he whispered beside you.

“Mine too.” You took out your notebook again, doodling on your notebook while Wonwoo watched you. You didn’t notice that Wonwoo took out his phone and backed away from you slightly. He tapped his phone to get his camera to focus on you, taking a picture of you as you doodled on your notebook.

“Beautiful,” he whispered quietly.

You looked up at Wonwoo, smiling brightly at him.

“I think I’m done ‘Woo,” you finally showed him your drawing, his eyes looking at the artwork.

“You’re so talented y/n!” He ruffled your hair before placing his arm around your shoulder. Wonwoo and you looked at the artwork for the last time.

“To the studio we go?”

“To the studio we go.”

—

“If you keep staring at Wonwoo like that, he might melt,” Mingyu sneaked up from behind you. You jolted in your seat, clutching your chest as you tried to calm your beating heart.

“Are you serious Kim Mingyu?”

“I didn’t realise you were this jumpy y/n.”

You threw a piece of crumpled paper at his face which he dodged, knocking the spare seat along the way. This caught the attention of a couple of people that were quietly sipping on their beverages in the coffee shop. Wonwoo watched you and Mingyu bicker while he took another coffee order. He chuckled softly when he saw you throw another piece of crumpled paper at Mingyu’s face.

While you and Mingyu were bickering about your apparent feelings for Wonwoo, both of you didn’t notice Wonwoo’s face drop when his ex-girlfriend entered the coffee shop. Mingyu finally looked up to find Wonwoo arguing with Jiyeon at the side of the coffee shop. Seungcheol who now took over Wonwoo’s shift, glanced at the younger male with worry evident on his face.

You didn’t notice what was happening until Mingyu tapped your shoulder.

“C-can you do me a favour y/n?”

You hummed in response, looking up to see Mingyu’s face. You dropped your pencil immediately and gave all your attention to Mingyu.

“I need you to pretend to be Wonwoo’s girlfriend like right now,” he blurted out.

“What the fuck?”

He nibbled on his lower lip before pointing his finger at Wonwoo who looked distressed as he talked to a girl you didn’t recognise.

“Who-”

“Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend who cheated on him.”

With that piece of information, you stood up quickly and made your way towards Wonwoo. You looped your arms through his and placed your head on his arm.

“Baby,” you whined, catching both of their attention.

“I-”

“You have a girlfriend now Wonwon?” she sounded hurt as she looked you up and down.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Yeah, now please leave before my girlfriend makes a scene. And you wouldn’t like that. Trust me.”

You waved at her mockingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and dragging him where you and Mingyu were sat at.

“I want the ground to swallow me whole,” you groaned when you and the boys watched Jiyeon disappear from the coffee shop.

“You owe ME Jeon!”

“How about a free kiss?” Mingyu suggested making you and Wonwoo glare at him.

“How about an explanation? Meet me at the rooftop at 8 tonight?” he glanced at the clock, realising that his break was nearly over.

“I’ll see you later,” he placed a quick peck on your forehead, leaving you and Mingyu by yourselves again.

“Forehead kisses, multiple dates and rooftop sessions? And you two still AREN’T dating?!”

“Oh fuck off Kim Mingyu.”

—

“So she fucking cheated on you and now she’s asking for you to take her back?”

Wonwoo nodded, eating another cheeseball that you bought for him before coming up to the rooftop.

“And are you going to?” you asked nervously, not knowing why your heart hurt at the thought of Wonwoo taking back Jiyeon. It’s not like there was anything going on between you two, you thought.

You saw him hesitate, swallowing another cheeseball.

“I kinda thought about it but no, I’m never going to take her back. I don’t want to go through the pain all over again.”

You sighed in relief, “Good.”

“Why? You scared I won’t spend as much time with you anymore?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

Wonwoo watched you shyly eat a piece of chicken, avoiding his eyes. He scooted closer to you until your arms were touching. He placed an arm around your waist and placed his head on top of yours.

“Never, sweetheart. You’re very special to me, you know,” he whispered softly.

“O-okay.”

—

You were gasping for air once you woke up from your dream. You saw the look of disappointment on his face again, making your heart clench with sadness all over again.

“Not again,” you cried, placing your covers over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your hands were shaking at this point and you knew you were having an episode again. You tried to breathe calmly but memories of your time with him kept appearing in your mind.

“F-fuck,” you reached out to grab your phone from the bedside table. You dialled Wonwoo’s number, placing the phone on your ear. After the fifth ring, Wonwoo picked up humming as you called out his name.

“H-help me,” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to tell him the passcode to your apartment door.

“I’m on my way sweetheart. Please breathe for me okay? I’ll be there in no time.”

Wonwoo arrived ten minutes later, panting when he finally entered your room. He rushed over to your bed and removed your covers so that he could take you in his arms.

“I’m here baby, i’m here,” he took you in his lap, and began to rock you body gently to soothe your cries.

“I’m right here,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, on your forehead and finally, on your cheek.

You gripped his shirt while you attempted to calm yourself down. You focused on his lips and then on his hushed voice.

“Woo,” you finally called out.

“I’m here y/n.”

“I’m s-sorry I called you here.”

“Don’t, you know I’ll always be here.”

—

After that night, you made it your job to avoid Wonwoo at all cost. You were embarrassed. You also realised how attached you’ve become to him. Seungkwan tried to get you to meet up with him and even Mingyu begged for you to stop avoiding Wonwoo.

“You’re leaving him in the dark y/n,” Seungkwan argued for the nth time. You sighed, leaning your canvas on the wall.

“I’m really busy Kwannie, can we not talk about this today?”

“Just admit that you’ve grown feelings for Wonwoo and you’re afraid that he might leave you!” Seungkwan blurted out. You dropped your paintbrush on the ground when Seungkwan snapped at you.

“I KNOW!” Seungkwan flinched as you yelled back at him.

“I’m scared I might lose him too but you can’t blame me for my own trauma Seungkwan! Now get out,” you picked up your brush again, turning your back away from him.

—

You knew you were dreaming. It had to be a dream because he was here. He was in your arms while you talked about your on going piece of artwork. Vernon leaned his head on your chest while he played with your fingers that were placed on his chest.

“I love you, you know that right?”

You gripped his fingers tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go incase he disappeared like he always did whenever you had a dream about him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to save you, Vernon-”

“Shh, what happened to me was not your fault y/n,” he got up from where he was laying on your chest and took you in his lap.

“Nothing was your fault, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“I shouldn’t have fought with you that day,” you mumbled, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. You gripped his shirt as he continued to whisper calming words into your ear.

“I want you to be happy. I’m at peace now, y/n.” Vernon kissed your cheek before he disappeared again.

You jolted awake, gasping for air again. Clutching your chest, you called out for Seungkwan who heard you since he was sweeping outside your door. He barged in with the sweeping brush in his hand.

“Vernon again?” You nodded, sniffling while you opened your arms for him.

“I know he’s watching over you y/n.”

You sobbed in his shirt, seeping the piece of clothing with your tears. Seungkwan’s heart broke when he continued to rub your back. He shook his head at how unfair the world could be. You didn’t deserve the heart ache of losing Vernon to a crash. You didn’t deserve to lose the man that was once the love of your life.

“What happened to Vernon wasn’t your fault, y/n.”

“I-i know,” you breathed out, “V-vernon told me it wasn’t. Seungkwan, he finally talked to me in my dreams.”

Seungkwan gave you a soft smile, soothing you with comforting words again.

“I know he’d love for you to be happy with Wonwoo.”

—

A month passed by when you saw Wonwoo again. It was only for a couple of minutes until him and Jihoon entered the studio. Despite only seeing him for a few minutes, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he looked at you.

You clutched the canvas tighter against your chest as you made your way to the arts building to go into the studio to finally finish your painting that was going to be included in the exhibition a few days. When you entered the studio, you flicked the lights on and settled your canvas against the wall. You rolled your sleeves up and began to prepare your paints and paintbrushes that were going to finalise your artwork.

It took you 5 hours to complete your painting, your cheek and denim overalls sporting splotches of paint on them. You stood back and admired your work of art. You fished out your phone and captured a picture of your painting to send to Seungkwan.

While you were cleaning your brushes, your mind wandered back to a memory that inspired your artwork.

You and Wonwoo were walking home after spending hours on the rooftop. He urged you to go to the rooftop after he had a rough day. When you arrived at the rooftop, Wonwoo was already sitting on the ground with a can of beer clutched in his hand. He heard you but he didn’t bother turning around with how tired he was. You leaned down behind Wonwoo and wrapped your arms around him, placing your chin on his shoulder. You remembered Wonwoo spilling everything that went wrong that day while you hugged him tighter to calm him down.

After spending hours on the rooftop, he decided to walk you home. He was back to his normal self, nudging you with his hip as he teased you about hugging him on the rooftop for hours. You giggled when he tipsily laughed at a joke you told him. You reached for your phone that was in the back pocket of your jeans.

You quickly took a picture of Wonwoo while he laughed at another joke you told him.

“Hey! No fair,” he whined, chasing you down the empty streets of Seoul.

—

“Hey y/n, are you inviting Wonwoo to the exhibition?” Seungkwan chewed on a piece of gum while typing something on his phone.

“I already did.”

“What did he say?”

“Left me on read.”

“I’m sure he’ll come y/n,” Seungkwan reassured, squeezing your hand.

—

It was the day of the exhibition and you were walking around the hall to look at your other classmates’ paintings. You chatted to some of them and complimented them on their work while they gushed about yours. They loved the idea of your painting of the moon and a boy who was admiring the night sky. You thanked her, smiling at her art work again.

The event was coming to an end but you saw no sight of Wonwoo. Mingyu, Jihoon and even Soonyoung dropped by to see your work of art. The three of them admired your painting for awhile until it finally clicked in their minds who the boy was. They whipped their heads towards you at the same time, wearing matching smirks to tease you.

“Wonwoo huh?” Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows making you chuckle at him.

“Do you know if he’s coming?” you bit your lower lip, fiddling with your hands as you awaited for their answer.

The three boys looked at you with sympathetic smiles, “We’re not sure y/n.” They bid you goodbye after you chatted with them for a while, leaving you on your own again. Some people came up to you to ask you about your painting, asking what prompted you to paint the moon and a boy.

“Just someone special,” you smiled at the old lady.

The event came to an end at 8pm and your professor thanked all of you for presenting your paintings to the public. You were beyond tired when you grabbed your back from the staff room, wanting nothing more than to pick up some food from your favourite takeaway shop and watch reruns of your favourite show with Seungkwan.

You were the last person to leave the hall as your other classmates have already left while you were grabbing your belongings. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t disappointed that Wonwoo didn’t come to the event. However, you knew it was your fault for pushing him away when all he wanted was to be there for you.

You started walking away from the hall, halting once you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. You froze when you heard footsteps nearing you. He was here, you thought.

You turned around to see Wonwoo with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled softly at you once he was in front of you. Wonwoo handed you the flowers and you gladly took them from his hand.

“I didn’t want to disturb you when you were talking to people so I decided not to come up to you and just admire your work from afar.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it y/n,” he stared at you, silence enveloping you both.

“Good, you were the inspiration for that painting,” you sheepishly revealed. He blushed at your words, tucking his hands behind the pockets of his jeans.

“How about I walk you back to your apartment?”

“I’d love that.”

You walked side by side in comfortable silence with only the noises of passing cars filling in the silence that enveloped you both. It was nice seeing Wonwoo again and you loved the new hair colour he was sporting now.

When you neared your apartment building, Wonwoo spotted the playground that he frequently passed by whenever he collected you from your apartment. He nudged your hip with his own, pointing at the swings nearby.

“Wanna chat for a bit?” You could only nod, following him as he led the way to the swings. You sat down on of the swings while he sat on the other, immediately pushing himself off. You watched in amusement as he got higher and higher, wanting to do the same. But you were too tired to even move your legs so you decided just to watch him goof off.

“Woo,” you called out.

He suddenly stopped, using his feet to stop himself from swinging any further. He turned towards you, raising his eyebrows to urge you to speak.

“I-i’m really sorry for avoiding you,” you started, fiddling with the flowers that laid on your lap.

“Wanna tell me why you did?”

You looked up at him, his eyes staring intently at you. You gulped, feeling nervous the more he looked at you with curious eyes.

“I didn’t want you to get to close..because I was afraid I’d lose you like I lost my ex-boyfriend,” you confessed, running your hand through your hair. You saw him furrow his eyebrows, probably confused as to why you were afraid of losing him when you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“H-he died after a drunk driver knocked him over,” you whispered, “He was going home after we argued at my apartment and that was the last conversation we had before he died the same night.”

Wonwoo gasped softly, standing up and kneeling in front of you. He tilted your head up with his pointer finger to get you to look at him. You didn’t resist, wanting nothing more but to look at Wonwoo. Tears started to form in your eyes once they met his.

“I’m really sorry Woo,” you sobbed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, both of you nuzzling your heads into each other’s necks. You and him stayed in that position until he his knee started aching.

“You gotta let go of me for a bit, baby, my knees are starting to ache.” With the mention of the term of endearment, your heartbeat quickened.

“Baby huh?” You asked, your eyebrow raised at him.

“Yeah, because you’re my baby now,” he teased, offering you his hand to take. You gladly accepted it, swinging it softly as you and him continued to walk to your apartment building.

“I’ve something for you to listen to before you go to sleep, baby,” he smiled. You turned your head towards him, seeing the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “What is it?” you asked. “I already sent it to you, you just have to play it when you get home okay?” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso. You rested your chin against his chest while you both stood outside your apartment building. You didn’t want to let him go nor did he want to leave you just yet.

“Wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” he asked, leaning down to peck your forehead with his lips. You nodded again, placing the side of your head against his chest. “I’d love to.”

“No more running away okay?” You pinched his back lightly before nodding again to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere again. Despite the fear of losing him in the future lingering in the back of your mind, you were only certain of one thing. You were completely and utterly in love with the man who pushed a steel door against your body that one strange night. He was someone that your heart was longing for and he was the one who helped you heal your heart piece by piece like you did with his.

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

[bloody-bee-tea]

12 Days of Mingcheng 2021 Day 9 - Pure

When Jiang Cheng comes to it’s to a splitting headache and the frantic yelling of his people.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, trying to sit up, but he feels so goddamn weak and panic immediately grips him.

The last time he felt this weak was when he lost his core and his hands fly to his stomach, as if he could physically feel the hole there again.

“It’s just sealed,” his second in command tells him almost immediately and Jiang Cheng fists his hands in his lapels.

“Undo it,” he hisses out but instead of getting on with that his second throws a look over his head.

“We can’t do that,” a new voice from behind Jiang Cheng says and Jiang Cheng turns around.

“Why not?” he presses out, but Jiang Sushan is not deterred by his glare.

“Because you were hit with a curse. It’s going to poison you whenever you use your qi.”

“Undo it. I will not use my qi,” he says, the panic still there and he really needs Jiang Sushan to undo this as soon as possible.

He will be fine not using his qi. What he is not fine with is this hollow feeling inside of him right now.

“If you use it you will die,” Jiang Sushan tells him seriously and Jiang Cheng nods. “Fine, let it be your death,” she mutters and quickly unseals his core.

Jiang Cheng fights the urge to circle his qi immediately, but just the feeling of his core is good enough for him.

“What happened?” he then asks and Jiang Sushan levels him with a look.

“You were stupid,” Jiang Sushan says and Jiang Cheng guesses that in her eyes everything he does is stupid.

“Would you like to clear it up?” he asks his disciple as he looks around.

The more he sees the clearer his memory gets and in the end he doesn’t need anyone else to tell him what’s going on. They found a hidden treasure room under the ruins of Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng must have touched something that shouldn’t have been touched.

“Do we know how to undo it?” he asks with a sigh instead of insisting on an answer and he rubs his temple.

Headaches really are a bitch and he promises to be more grateful in the future when he uses his qi to handle them.

“The inscription is withered,” Jiang Sushan gives back and helps Jiang Cheng up. “We’re not sure yet.”

“It says something—about a kiss of pureness?” his disciple asks, poking an old tablet. “Or just something something pure? I’m not quite certain.”

“What kind of pureness?” Jiang Cheng asks and resolutely pushes the kissing part away. “Pure of heart? Of intention? Of body?” he demands to know but the disciple only helplessly shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“I think with things like this it’s always good to go with pure of body,” Jiang Sushan says and it’s not actually like Jiang Cheng can argue with her.

She’s by far the oldest of all of his new disciples and as a healer she must have seen a great deal of things already.

So her guess is as good as any.

“A kiss with someone untouched then?” Jiang Cheng grits out between clenched teeth and Jiang Sushan pats his arm.

“Why don’t you go back to your room and make a list of people that could fit and I’ll come find you later.”

“What people? Let’s just ask a kid for a kiss on the cheek and let’s go on with our day.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” the disciple says. “There’s a mention of how something has to be equal to the cursed. So either equal in pureness or maybe equal in cultivational level?”

“Fuck my life,” Jiang Cheng mutters and Jiang Sushan pushes him out of the room.

“So maybe start looking for people with a high cultivational base that match your—experience in this,” she suggest and pushes Jiang Cheng towards his quarters.

Yeah, well, they are probably fresh out of luck there, Jiang Cheng guesses, seeing as he never even so much as kissed someone and everyone else probably has way more experience than him. Especially those with a decently high cultivational level.

“What’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asks from his side and Jiang Cheng turns towards him.

“Is that blood?” Nie Mingjue asks and reaches up to clear a minor cut on Jiang Cheng’s temple.

That must have happened when he fell down, he guesses.

“It’s nothing.”

“Why are you not healing it?”

Jiang Cheng looks around before he tugs on Nie Mingjue’s robe to drag him towards his quarters.

“Is everything alright?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng briefly shakes his head, unwilling to say more about it before they are behind closed doors.

He trusts most of the people that decided to stand with him, but he’s still a young and unexperienced Sect Leader and if word of his curse would get out, he can imagine that the repercussions would be less than ideal.

Jiang Cheng would bet the entire treasure room on the fact that Jin Guangshan sends an assassin out before the day is over.

“There’s been a bit of an incident,” Jiang Cheng says once he closed the door behind himself and Nie Mingjue.

He trusts the other man—especially since he has been nothing but helpful since the war ended and he seems earnest in his help, too. If Jiang Cheng can’t trust him, then he can probably trust no one.

So he lays it all out and explains to Nie Mingjue what exactly has happened and what he needs to do.

“You want to make a list of people with decently high cultivational levels and who are maybe still untouched?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says, thankfully only slightly blushing but he guesses with how his life has been going it’s no wonder he still didn’t so much as kiss anyone.

“I think my best bet would be someone from the Lan Sect?” Jiang Cheng unsurely says and is caught off guard by the frown on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“What about me?” he demands to know and now it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to frown.

“But aren’t you and—I was under the impression that you and Lan Xichen had a thing during your Cloud Recesses days,” he admits but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“Does that rumor still persist? Well, I guess it’s better that than the truth,” he mutters and Jiang Cheng curiously leans forward.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Xichen’s attention is easily caught but hard to keep,” Nie Mingjue says with a meaningful look and Jiang Cheng can’t help it, his mouth drops open.

“You’re kidding,” Jiang Cheng breathes out but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“He enjoys everything and everyone that makes him feel good and he’s not shy to take it.”

“Huh,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Good for him, I guess,” he then decides because he knows the kind of pressure that rests on the heir of a Sect, so he really cannot begrudge Lan Xichen his choices.

Though it does make this a little bit more difficult now.

“Wait, you said you—”

“I never slept with Xichen,” Nie Mingjue confirms. “I’m not quite as free with my affections and I’m not one for a short enjoyment. We just never clicked in that way.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng mutters because he still doesn’t see how Nie Mingjue never did anything with anyone.

“You don’t believe me,” Nie Mingjue accurately guesses and Jiang Cheng awkwardly shrugs.

“I just—have you seen yourself? Surely there must have been someone else.”

“My looks have nothing to do with any of this,” Nie Mingjue denies. “And between the violent murder of my father, the subsequent early ascension as Sect Leader and the following war, there really wasn’t that much time for anything,” he then drily adds and Jiang Cheng turns red in embarrassment.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Nie Mingjue is not that much older than him and that he’s not the only one with a bad adolescence.

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“It’s just not something I ever got around to and so far Huaisang doesn’t know it’s something he can meddle in, so it’s not a burning topic for me.”

Now that brings Jiang Cheng up short, because as far as he remembers Nie Huaisang did already meddle.

“Wait a moment,” he says. “But Huaisang already did meddle,” he tells Nie Mingjue, whose eyes go big.

But before he can ask what Jiang Cheng means, the door to his rooms fly open.

“Zongzhu!” his disciple yells and comes to a stop when he sees Nie Mingjue with him. “I apologize. But we have the correct cure for the curse now.”

“Then do tell it!” Jiang Cheng snaps and the disciple bows.

“Of course. It needs to be someone with pure intentions towards you. Intentions that match yours. It has nothing to do with the body.”

Well, the body certainly would be easier, Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks.

The only intentions people have towards him these days are ill ones and not even Nie Mingjue will be able to help with this now, not when Jiang Cheng’s stupid heart is set on him since the war and Nie Mingjue only sees him as a charity case.

“Great, thank you,” Jiang Cheng tells the disciple, who immediately excuses himself again.

“What does that mean now?” Nie Mingjue asks.

“It means I’m fucked,” Jiang Cheng mutters, already mentally preparing himself for the fact that he’ll never get to use his qi again.

It should probably shock him more, but right now he’s simply too numb.

“You could always ask Sect Leader Yao,” Nie Mingjue weakly jokes. “Your derision for each other matches.”

“Funny,” Jiang Cheng gives back but he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nie Mingjue asks and it seems like he wants to reach out for Jiang Cheng but he keeps his hands out of reach.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng starts and then decides to fuck it. If he can’t use his qi, he’s not fit to be a Sect Leader and if he cannot be a Sect Leader then Nie Mingjue’s opinion of him doesn’t matter. “As long as you don’t want to marry me, I guess there’s nothing anyone can do,” he admits and forces a smile on his face. “I guess I should go prepare my disciples for a new Sect Leader now.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and he doesn’t normally use Jiang Cheng’s courtesy name, so it makes Jiang Cheng stop.

“I sent you a courtship offer that you rejected. If anyone doesn’t want to marry, it’s you.”

“That’s not—wait, what?” Jiang Cheng asks because surely there must be a misunderstanding here.

“I sent you a courtship offer.”

“No, you didn’t. Huaisang did, in your name. That’s what I meant when I said he already meddled. He tried to set us up.”

“That’s not true! It was me!”

“Mingjue, I know Huaisang’s penmanship. I went to lectures with him for an entire year. He was the one to write it.”

“Because my penmanship is horrendous,” Nie Mingjue says and shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “I asked him to write what I dictate. He of course took some liberties with it, since clearly I am too crass and brash for him, but I thought they were all in good taste.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at the revelation that maybe Nie Mingjue wants him just as much as Jiang Cheng wants him.

“What are you saying?” Jiang Cheng asks, but Nie Mingjue only shakes his head and gets up.

“Come here,” he says leaning down and taking Jiang Cheng’s face between his hands.

Jiang Cheng swallows, because Nie Mingjue’s intent is unmistakable and he can’t help but to lean up, lean into Nie Mingjue.

When Nie Mingjue’s lips brush his, it’s not really a surprise but Jiang Cheng’s heart still misses a beat or two before it goes into overdrive.

“There,” Nie Mingjue says when he pulls back. “That should show you.”

Jiang Cheng is a bit slow on the uptake right now, but eventually Nie Mingjue’s words make it through the fog in his head and Jiang Cheng accesses his qi, trusting that Nie Mingjue does not actually want him dead.

But he can use it without any problems at all and once the implication of that hits Jiang Cheng his head flies up again.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Wanyin, will you finally allow me to court you?” Nie Mingjue asks with a smirk and Jiang Cheng laughs.

Who could have known that a curse would bring this wonderful thing into Jiang Cheng’s life.

(And the most wonderful thing it is. They only court for the minimum amount of time that is required to make it a real courtship, because they already know that they both want this. And they never regret it either.)

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[btswrckd]

War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

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“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them. 

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face. 

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin. 

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider. 

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence. 

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him. 

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’. 

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission. 

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got. 

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are. 

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open. 

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well. 

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow. 

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure. 

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does. 

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you. 

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran. 

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away. 

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house. 

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst. 

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.” 

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb. 

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn��t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction. 

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

 “What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened. 

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction. 

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat. 

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path. 

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho. 

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?” 

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old. 

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?” 

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets. 

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job. 

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again. 

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling. 

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out. 

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family. 

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time. 

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds. 

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door. 

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles. 

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”