#{ when will cloud not look dead inside

[everysongineverykey]

shoutout to brian may for constantly coming through with all the Inexpressibly Fucking Melancholy songs we could ever need. long away '39 all dead all dead some day one day leaving home ain't easy... hell even his demos. listen to you know you belong to me and water and tell me you don't feel like ben affleck on bench with cigarette dot png. every band needs one member who is just so sad All the time and Will make it the entire discography's problem and i am so serious

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

[sangunary]

YANDERE BATFAM × NEGLECTED READER!

- Hush now crybaby.

\\Part 1// \\ Part 2// \\ Part 3 //

SYPNOSIS: After your death nothing felt the same.

Warning: Gore, death, violence, blood.

Everything happened in a flash, you couldn't even remembered what had hit you so hard to make your entire body run this high on adrenaline. You could feel your every pulse and the pounding on your head makes it hard to think properly.

When the clouds in your head finally clears you finally opened your eye's and looked down at your feet, your lifeless body laying on the ground.

Blood was profusely seeping out from the bash you received after the impact of the car... The car had hit you so hard that you flew and unfortunately your head landed on a fire hydrant.

The impact was so powerful that it left an open wound on your head... Everybody stopped to tape the situation not a single soul decided to even checked if you were still breathing.

You watched as the ambulance took your cold body. You watched as the medical staff's tried their best to wake you up. You watched as your own blood father hang up the call from just hearing your name, not even inquiring them further- He acted like your name was some curse.

You sit there by your body side, holding your own hands. Taking the little nursery book by the side table you began to read, you felt a little comfort but you can't complaint even a little was better than nothing.

The heart monitor began to beep indicating that you were no longer breathing. Staffs runs in trying to bring back your heart beat yet nothing worked you died that day.

You died because none of your guardians wanted to be involved with you... The hospital needed them to agree to a surgery yet since nobody or even if they picked up they just hang up without listening further.

You stood outside the morgue waiting patiently for your family to retrieve your body. You've been standing there for hour's, for someone who doesn't have a heart anymore it ache alot.

When your family finally arrived they were shocked, Damian was abit caught off guard, Bruce with the same face just more disappointed, Dick in tears, Tim was too sleepy to even react much... Jason was not present.

Barbara and Stephanie were crying holding your tiny cold hand's in theirs apologising, Duke was distraught and Cass you could tell she was uncomfortable.

Even during your funeral you stood beside your physical body, stroking your cheek and wishing yourself well. The funeral was small just the batfamily, your body was buried near the manor with high security.

Even your own mother didn't attend your funeral which made you frown which wasn't even your intention, your intention was to cry but not a single drop of tears could even fall.

Fortunately your mother did came but weeks after your funeral burst inside the manor and attack yout father. She was a mess, her mascara was ruined from the tears that won't stop flowing, her hair was extremely mess which was new. Your mother was a fashionable woman and seeing her this wild made you sad.

"You Piece Of Shit! OUR daughter died! How could you not inform me my babygirl is dead! I wanted to see her- To say goodbye!" Your mother yelled as she slap Bruce across his face. Bruce stays silent enduring the pain she was conflicting upon him.

"I left her with you so she could have something! How could You! She was so happy to have a father yet you let her chase your love and affection?! Even if you couldn't see her as your daughter why not call me??! I would have taken her with me!"

"...She was my world Bruce! My daughter... My baby... Now I can't even say goodbye. Im terrible, I should have been there..."

Your mother's grip on Bruce loosen as she fell onto the floor, sobbing into her hand's.

You slowly walk towards your mother, you wished you could have hug her in that moment for her to feel the warmth but you were cold.. Freezing, you don't think she would be comfortable.

Instead of hugging her you sit beside her holding her right hand, as you lean onto her...

"Im sorry mom, forgive me it's not father's fault... I was being emotional and being emotional makes me stupid...Maybe this is why nobody love's me"

Ever since that day Bruce became worst. You were haunting the manor watching as everybody tried to cope with your death.

You felt abit happy to be death, afterall you felt as your family finally noticed you. And all it took for them to love you was for you to die!

But it was tragic to watch your allready insane family become... This.

Dick was now sleeping on your bed every night, even when others tried to interfere he didn't budge. Holding onto the dress you wore that day and mumbling on and on about how he would take you to the park if you just come back.

Jason was also affected as much as it shocked, he was smoking more and barely even coming to the manor inorder to avoid anything that reminded of you.

Tim health was getting worst, he didn't even have the heart to look into any case at times and would just stare at blankly talking to himself and imagining that you were there.

Damian didn't show any weakness to anyone else he didn't show that he was greatly grieving. Nobody had a clue that he was trying to bring your soul inside your favourite doll. He would talk to himself which was alot tame than Tim but he was indeed speaking about how he will force your soul inside the doll just so everything could went back to normal.

Barbara was neglecting her job as Oracle. She doesn't have the energy to do anything, without your presence everything felt dead to her and if everything is dead what's the point of trying to salvage it.

Duke was taking it very well, talking about his feelings and making sure to clean your grave everyone Saturday, replacing the flower as much as he could... He was obsessed with your grave. At times he would sit there for hours just staring at it...

Stephanie wasn't as cheery as she was and even when she genuinely smiled it faid quickly... She kept getting nightmares of your body inside that morgue as a result she can't deal with crime including death in it. She gets reminded of you and when that happened she went into panick mode.

Cass on the other hand tried her best to move on unlike the others. But sometimes you would watch her as she entered your room and leaving quickly, it was as if she was trying to imagine you inside your room solely.

Bruce took it the worst, he would take his pent up guilt and anger out on any criminal, he even broke a couple bone of a guy who just rob a store with a knife. It was as if he was ignoring his own and the most important rule.

Silently blaming himself. He thought that Jason death would be the end of death in the family but that wasn't the case.

Alfred was heavily affected as well. He knew he was also in the wrong for favouring your other siblings while trying his best to avoid you during your time on Earth as a human. He would bake your favourite food and left it at your grave.

Alfred also had to stop the family from bringing your rotting corpse and dipping it into thr Lazarus pit. He knew you wouldn't like the idea of being brought back plus your body was too old to be able to be put together again.

Crime rate was raising because none of the family members were willing to talk about your death and keeping to themselves only. You could only watch as sigh as they tried to bring you back to life over and over.

The body inside the casket which was buried sixth feet underground was a simple decoy.

Your corpse have been rotting slowly inside a special room, where Bruce tried to bring you back somehow. You couldn't help but get teary just by looking at your corpse.

It was skinny and extremely pale... The stretch was horrible... Your body was clearly rotting away. It was not fun witnessing your organ being taken from your body just so your suddenly crazy/obessed father could bring you back.

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P12)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: well bazinga. here we are- I'm loving you guys all fangirling over rafe and bunny cause they're such cutie patooties. But happiness is not for free, so I'm really really sorry about this one- I hope ya'll can forgive me. (and rafe) (idk if I can)

warnings: angst :(, alcohol, smoking, weed, violence, fights, drunkenness, rafe being a little bitch

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13)

The air is heavy with the lingering warmth of the day, the sky streaked with dying gold and violet as Y/N steps out the back exit of the country club. The low hum of insects fills the silence, broken only by the soft scrape of her boots against the pavement. Her shoulders are tired, the strap of her bag crumpled in one hand, and she taps her phone screen with the other, the glow casting light across her features, a new message flashing on the screen.

JJ : Lost my charger again

JJ. : Its okay tho cuz I took yours

JJ : I'll give it back

JJ : (I won't)

A laugh spills quietly from her lips, soft and genuine. That familiar feeling of warmth spreads through her chest at his messages. It'd been a few weeks since she'd come back from Charleston- since JJ had finally got a job. And she had to admit he was trying, really trying, so now their long awkward conversation which ended with deafening silence had eased in to sweet and stupid messages and playful banter which filled the walls of their bedrooms once more. Her fingers typed out a reply—

Y/N : u better u loser

She places the phone into her pocket and glances up- and then stops dead in her tracks. Her car’s parked at the far end of the staff lot, right where she left it but what she didn’t leave, was the sleek black Range Rover sitting beside it, the glossy paint catching the orange hues of the setting sun. She stiffens immediately, scanning the lot, no one around and her steps towards her car quicken. The driver’s side door opens, and Rafe steps out, tall and unbothered, his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, and there’s that stupid smirk playing on his lips. Her heart jumps straight into her throat. “Rafe—” she hisses under her breath, marching toward him with panic in her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, voice low and smooth, “What? I can’t come see you?”

“Not in the staff parking lot,” she snaps in a hushed whisper, “Do you want someone to see you? What if someone from inside walks out—”

“Relax”

He says gently, stepping forward and before she can argue more, his hands are at her hips, warm and familiar, tugging her closer until her body is brushing against his in the narrow space between the cars. The proximity knocks the air from her lungs. Her hands instinctively rest against his chest, palms flat over the material of his t-shirt where she can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm beneath her fingers.

Hers? Not so much.

“There’s no one around...”

He murmurs, head tilted down as he looks at her, his voice softer now, velvety and coaxing and her breath catches. She should push him away. She should tell him this is reckless, stupid, dangerous. But his scent- musky and alluring- clouds her thoughts. And his touch, just the lightest press of fingertips against the small of her back— is so familiar now, so comforting in its own twisted way. And she hates that it’s comforting. Her fingers twitch against his chest. She finally manages a whisper her words stubborn,

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile in his voice as he leans in just a fraction closer, breath ghosting against her temple.

“But I wanted to be.”

She rolls her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh, but her lips betray her- tugging upward at the corners, betraying the way he’s already wormed his way into her mood.

“We’re gonna get caught”

She mutters under her breath, glancing toward the dark stretch of the staff lot like someone might materialise from the shadows. The words barely leave her lips, soft and hurried, like they know better than to draw attention. Rafe just smirks, tilting his head down slightly, his chin angling toward her as he closes the few inches left between them.

“Not if you kiss me quick”

He says, voice low and roughened with amusement. Her eyes squint in a playful glare, head pulling back a fraction.

“You’re so annoying.”

But her body leans in all the same.

Her fingers find the soft t-shirt, curling into the fabric without even thinking. She rises onto the balls of her feet, just barely, and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s quick and light—barely a brush. Just a flicker of warmth, like a secret passed between two people in the dark. As she pulls away, his face follows hers- like his lips are trying to chase the kiss she’s already taken back. He doesn’t even think about it, just dips forward slightly, a greedy edge in his movement. She breathes out a small laugh, pushing against his chest with a single finger. “Nope,” she says, her smile widening.

“I'm hungry.”

"Yeah well so am I"

He lets his hands slip from her hips with a groan that’s more for show than anything, head rolling back as he leans against the hood of his car. She just shrugs, the inuendo lost on her ears as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

“You’re such a tease Bunny”

He drawls and she snorts, already turning on her heel to head toward the trunk of her car.

“I don’t know what you mean Cameron.”

Her fingers make quick work of the car key, popping the trunk. She grabs the rolled-up apron resting on top her bag and tosses it in alongside her worn-out tote bag, the whole thing collapsing into a pile on top of an old hoodie and a dented water bottle. The sound of the trunk slamming shut echoes across the empty lot. Spinning back around to face him, she crosses her arms and leans her weight into one hip, chin tilted up with that same little smile that drives him crazy.

“You really wanna get caught by one of your little Kook friends out here with me?” she teases, cocking a brow. “Have to explain why you’ve been slumming it with a Pogue?”

His smirk twitches- just a smidge. For the briefest moment, his expression shifts and something softer creeps into it. Something a little more sincere. His gaze lingers on her face longer than it should and then flickers back down to her lips before returning back up again.

“Wouldn’t care if they did”

He says simply, a quiet shrug rolling off his shoulders as if he means it, as if it's the simplest answer in the world. It catches her off guard- freezes her for a beat. Her mouth opens, then closes again but she recovers quick, brushing it off with a scoff and a roll of her eyes.

“You’re so full of shit.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s a faint flicker of something else behind her voice- something almost moved. Something she doesn’t want to name because it’s been a few weeks since that night.

A few weeks since she tilted her milkshake to her lips and he wiped the sweet drip from her skin with his thumb like it meant nothing. Since he kissed her like he’d been holding back for months and she melted into it like her body had been waiting on that exact moment to exhale. And since then? It’s been a series of late-night meet ups that feel like a secret thread connecting them. Not the kind that spun in lies—but the kind too delicate to speak aloud. The kind you carry with careful hands and quiet hearts in fear of it snapping. Every night, after her shift ends and the world turns quiet, she finds him waiting. Always parked in the back corner of some parking lot—headlights off, music low and she slips into the passenger seat without a word, throws her bag in the back, kicks off her shoes, and leans over to kiss him like she’s been holding her breath all day.

The kisses are slow at first. Always. A shared pause. But then they tip into something deeper, heavier—like they’re trying to memorise each other without crossing any lines they haven’t drawn out loud- but it never goes further than that. His hands stay respectful, if not reverent- one cupping her jaw, the other braced on the back of her seat or tangled gently on her waist, on her hip, in her hair. Her fingers clutch the hem of his shirt like a tether, holding on but not pulling him in any closer than he already is.

There’s a quiet fire, always simmering, but neither of them dare feed it too much. Neither of them dare ask what they are. It’s easier this way. Safer. They stay pressed into the quiet hum of those car rides, the warmth of shared fries, the heat of stolen kisses in the dark, and the steady, unspoken beat of something they’ve both grown addicted to but don’t yet understand.

Rafe leaned against the top of her car, forearms braced over the roof like he had all the time in the world. The late golden hour sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the near-empty staff lot behind the country club. His eyes squinted slightly from the light, jaw sharp as ever, that casual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth “What’s your hurry today, huh?” he drawled lazily, peering down at her with a teasing glint.

“You extra hungry or what?”

Y/N huffed, already halfway into the driver’s seat of her little beat-up car, one leg in, one out, “No asshole- I just don’t want anyone to spot us, okay?”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, the sound low and unbothered. He shrugged one shoulder and pushed off the car just enough to stretch lazily.

“It’s not a big deal.”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her tone sharper now, “Yeah, actually Rafe—it is a big deal. Because if JJ finds out—”

“I know”

He cut in, dragging a hand over his jaw, irritation flashing in his eyes. “If JJ finds out, he’ll be mad. Whatever. I get it, okay? No need to tell me again.”

The words hung between them for a second, heavier than either wanted them to be. The silence wasn’t angry- but it was tense. The same argument they hadn’t quite had, bubbling beneath their stolen moments. He stood there now by her open car door, his figure blocking some of the sunlight, casting a soft shadow over her where she sat inside the car. From where she was, her eye level landed right at his belt. Her gaze softened a bit, guilt tugging at her gut. Then her hand came up, absent-minded and almost sheepish, her fingers catching on the loop of his jeans. She played with it lightly, tugging once. A peace offering. His eyes flicked down to her hand, then to her face, jaw still tight. She asked quietly, tilting her head up at him with a playful sort of pout, brows lifted just a touch.

“You mad..?”

“No,” he replied, voice low. “Why would I be mad?”

She shrugged, still toying with the denim loop, “I dunno. I thought—” she cut herself off, shaking her head a little, “Doesn’t matter.”

Rafe didn’t press. He let it hang, then gave a soft hum, looking around the lot- empty still, save for their two cars and the rustle of wind through the nearby trees. “So,” he drawled, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“We going to get something to eat or what?”

Y/N brightened a little, grateful for the pivot. “I’m feelingggg…” she stretched the word dramatically, “Chinese?”

He smiled at that slightly, nodding, “Chinese sounds good.”

“Cool,” she said, pulling her legs fully into the car now, “I’ll meet you there then?”

He gave a small nod, “Yeah… yeah.”

But she could tell- by the way he paused before turning away, by the way his fingers twitched at his side- that he was still holding onto a bit of a grudge. He hadn’t gotten his kiss, not a real one. And that wounded pride was showing, even if he tried to hide it behind his nonchalant façade. She rolled her eyes with a soft exhale- who would have thought Rafe Cameron was so needy?

Reaching up, she curled her fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him gently back down toward her, guiding him until he bent slightly, face now level with hers. His breath hitched, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned into her touch. She kissed him then- firm, but warm. Just enough to melt that sulking tension in his brow. His lips moved against hers with a soft hum, his hand bracing on the edge of her door as he leaned in a fraction more, savouring it. When she pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, lips parted like he wanted to chase her mouth again.

“You done now, you baby?”

She murmured with a crooked smile, eyes teasing but fond. Rafe’s smirk returned, slow and smug. “Yeah,” he murmured, straightening up,

“I’m done now.”

And with that, he backed away from the car, hands in his jacket pockets like he hadn’t just been melting under her touch. She watched him retreat toward his car, her heart doing that dumb little flutter it always did lately, it lingered in her chest. Just as his door swung open, he looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t forget the egg rolls.”

She rolled her eyes and started her car.

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

The quiet hum of the radio filled the space between them, the soft crackle of music soothing after a long day. They sat there in the dim light of the car, the smell of Chinese food mingling with the fresh evening air that drafted in through the slightly cracked window. Y/N leaned back against the seat, her legs tucked up beneath her as she dug into her takeout container. Rafe sat beside her, elbow propped up on the door, his free hand reaching for his food, the sound of plastic utensils scraping against the containers faint in the otherwise still air. Rafe asked, his voice low as he finally broke the silence, his eyes flicking over to her as he stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“How was work?”

“It was… okay”

Y/N muttered, chewing before she continued, eyes shifting away from him for a moment, “Had this asshole customer... one of your friends actually.”

“One of my friends? Who?”

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing slightly in curiosity as he put his food down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression calm despite the frustration in her voice.

“That guy Brett? The one you hang out with sometimes. Total jerk.”

“Why, what did he do?”

Her expression tightened as she recounted the experience, “he kept clicking his fingers in my face like I was some kind of dog, and whenever I went over to his table, he called me ‘waitress’ like I’m not even good to have a name? God he was so patronising.”

“He really did that?”

He asked, disbelief creeping into his tone, jaw clenched. Y/N tilted her head toward him, not missing the change in his expression. 

“Yeah, why? You don’t believe me?”

“No” He muttered, his voice hardening a little as he picked up his food again, his hand gripping the chopsticks tighter than necessary.

“I believe you.”

He took a bite, chewing slowly as he fought the frustration that was rising inside him. A small silence settled between them, the only sound the soft clinking of their chopsticks against the takeout containers. Rafe didn’t like that she had to deal with people like that, didn’t like it one bit.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

He asked, his voice casual, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Y/N turned her head slowly toward him, her expression soft but guarded as she mumbled,

“Working.”

Rafe blinked raising an eyebrow, “It’s Saturday…?”

“Yeah, and?” She shrugged, taking another bite of her food, her voice low and almost dismissive. “I’m broke, Rafe. I’m always working.”

His eyes darkened again as he placed his food down with a soft clink, his fingers tapping against the lid of the container. He wasn’t about to let this go- he hated it, and they both knew it. He took a sip of his drink, the cold liquid hitting his throat like a jolt, but it did nothing to cool the fire that was building in him. He put the cup back in the cup holder with a sigh, his voice quieter but still firm.

“I don’t see why you can’t just take a break. You don’t always have to work.”

“We’re not having this conversation again Rafe.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to him, her face hardening slightly as she gave him a pointed look. He frowned, the words heavy in the air.

“Look, I get that maybe you think it’s embarrassing to accept my—”

“If you keep talking about this,” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, “I’m getting out of your car.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, taking in the shift in her expression- the quiet defensiveness there, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. He paused, the weight of her words sinking in, then gave a short, almost defeated nod, like he was choosing to back off of the subject for now. Y/N didn’t say anything in response, her eyes softening as she turned back to her food, the brief tension hanging in the air like smoke. She had already given him her answer. She had already drawn the line before, and Rafe knew he’d have to respect it—for now. The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Just... quiet. Their takeout containers were nearly empty now, the scent of soy and spice lingering faintly in the car, blending with the low hum of music still playing in the background. Y/N had reclined her seat a bit, one leg tucked up under the other, the other stretched out, socked foot resting against the dashboard. Her shoes sat forgotten on the floor, and a soft breeze drifted in through the cracked window, brushing gently against her skin.

Rafe glanced over at her, his arm draped over the back of her seat, thumb idly brushing the seam of the leather. She looked content, even if a little tired- hair slightly messy from the day, lashes casting soft shadows across her cheekbones as she stared out at nothing in particular. He liked seeing her like this, unfiltered.

“There’s a party tomorrow night”

He said suddenly, voice quiet but breaking the lull between them. He reached forward, placing his empty cup in the holder before leaning back again, tapping a slow rhythm on his thigh. She turned her head lazily, brows knitting together slightly.

“A party?”

He nodded, “One of the beach houses on Figure Eight. Bunch of people’ll be there.” He paused, then looked over at her, expression unreadable.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Her head lifted a little more now, blinking at him like she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Yeah.” He gave a slow shrug, feigning casual, but his eyes were locked on hers, watching closely.

“I’m gonna be there...”

“Since when do you want me showing up to a Kook party?”

Y/N sat up slightly in her seat, feet slipping from the dashboard and landing softly on the floor. He smirked lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Since now.”

There was a beat of silence, then another. Her gaze searched his face, trying to find the catch—but there wasn’t one. Just Rafe, looking at her like he didn’t care if the whole island had something to say about her. She asked, voice lower now, almost testing him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah- I am.”

He leaned a little closer, one arm still draped along the back of her seat. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him, chewing over the offer in her mind. The idea of being in that world with no responsibilities- even just for a night- felt risky. Foreign. But something in the way he was looking at her made it hard to say no.

“I don't know Rafe... I’d stick out like a sore thumb besides people will talk-”

"-people always talk”

He shot back cutting her off slightly, amused as she frowned slightly, arms crossing tighter as she shook her head a little.

“This is different. You know it is.”

Rafe tilted his head thinking deeply, but didn’t press her just yet, “Your friend’s gonna be there,” he said instead, voice smooth as ever.

“My—what? Who?”

“Sofia, right?”

He squinted slightly and Y/N straightened a little, her mouth dropping open at the mention of the girls name.

“Sofia’s going?”

“Yeah.” He was smirking now. “That guy she’s been seeing? The new Kook on the island? He’s the one throwing it.”

“She hasn’t told me that,” Y/N muttered, staring at him.

“Well.” He turned more toward her, resting his elbow against the console and tapping the edge of her thigh with his fingers playfully.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with a dirty little secret.”

She let out a shocked laugh, eyes widening at the words passing his lips before narrowing her gaze at him as she shoved his shoulder back, playful but not gentle,

“You’re such a dick, Cameron.”

He only grinned, letting her shove him- indulging in the feeling of her touch even if momentary. Y/N gave a little scoff and turned away, but her smile lingered. A beat of silence passed over them before she spoke out, “Fine,” she said, like it pained her to admit it.

“I guess I can… think about it.”

“Think about it?” Rafe echoed with mock offense, sitting up straighter, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

She didn’t look at him this time, just smirked and reached down to close her container, the sound of clicking plastic filling the car. She then bent over placing it down on the floor, and as she sat back up Rafe leaned in closer again, slower this time, the tip of his nose brushing her jaw before his lips followed. He kissed the curve beneath her ear, then slowly worked his lips down the side of her neck.

"Maybe I can persuade you to come hmm...?"

“You’re such a perv”

She mumbled through a grin, her hand finding his chest and giving him a half-hearted push. He pulled back slightly, lips acting from her skin as he muttered,

“So… still a no?”

“Fine... I’ll come.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile that betrayed her. Rafe sat back accomplished as he spoke out, “Knew you'd give in.”

“But,” she added, wagging a finger at him. “You’re not glued to me all night, okay? Or people will notice.”

“Relax. We’ll keep it lowkey.”

He gave her that cocky, lopsided grin again and before she could snark back another smart-assed comment, he hit the button on the side of his seat. With a low mechanical whir, his chair reclined all the way back, and he stretched out like a king- arms behind his head, t-shirt rising just enough to show a sliver of his toned stomach. Then he patted his thigh, smirking.

“So… where were we?”

Y/N shook her head, heat prickling her cheeks as she shifted toward him again, “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her knees were already crawling across the seat.

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

The sun had long dipped below the tree line now, and the soft golden wash of string lights gave the Chateau its usual hazy, warm glow. A lazy summer night settled in with the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance and the low bass of music crackling from the old speaker propped up on a makeshift crate. Everyone was sprawled out in their usual places- Cleo had her legs kicked up on the railing, passing a blunt between her fingers, while Pope leaned back in one of the rickety lawn chairs, letting the smoke curl from his mouth toward the night sky. JJ was stretched across the hammock, shirtless of course, balancing a beer on his chest while making some offhand joke that had Kiara snorting into her drink. John B sat on the edge of the porch, Sarah curled comfortably in his lap, her fingers absentmindedly threading through his messy hair as she hummed along to the music. Then, like she suddenly remembered something juicy, Sarah’s voice piped up.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked toward her lazily, half-baked or halfway drunk. JJ raised an eyebrow, already skeptical. “There’s this party tomorrow night. One of the beach houses on Figure Eight — some rich kid’s throwing it. But I got the invite,” she emphasized with a little smirk, twirling a lock of her blonde hair,

“which means you guys can come too!”

There was a collective beat of silence, then came the chaos.

“A kook party?” Pope made a face. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Hard pass”

Kiara chimed in, swirling what was left in her cup. JJ sat up a bit in the hammock, giving Sarah a look of exaggerated offence, “Sarah — my best friend’s dearest girlfriend — why the hell would I willingly put myself in a room full of kooks with their Vineyard Vines shirts and trust funds?”

“Kook fest? I don't think so- rude boy's got a point."

Cleo added, completely unfazed. Sarah groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against John B’s shoulder, “Guys, everyone on the island’s been invited. Literally everyone. You want to miss the one time we can sneak in and drink their expensive-ass booze and pretend to be civilised?”

John B scratched the back of his neck, “I mean… Sare, are you sure this is a good idea? These things usually end in someone getting arrested or beat up.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” she shot back smiling up at him, “Come on, baby...”

JJ shook his head with a mock sigh, “I do love chaos, but I also love not getting decked by some pastel-wearing rich boy with a superiority complex.”

“C’monnn,” Sarah pleaded, eyes bouncing between them all. “Free booze. Loud music. Rich kids being embarrassing. You telling me you wanna miss that?” JJ glanced around, took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like he was warming up to the idea.

“Free booze, huh?”

“Like actually free”

Sarah said, perking up as she nodded her head. Kiara sighed before adding to the ongoing debate. “Okay I guess if we go in a group, it’s not like they can kick us all out.”

Pope laughed, “That’s comforting.”

“So it’s decided then?”

Sarah asked, clapping her hands and JJ leaned back with a smirk.

“Eh why the hell not. 

The chatter faded back into that familiar haze- the music a little louder now, the clinking of glass bottles, occasional bursts of laughter echoing under the soft glow of the porch lights. JJ had flopped dramatically back into the hammock, tossing a peanut at Pope, who swatted it away with a sharp “cut that out”, but he was grinning as he said it. Kiara and Cleo were side by side, passing the blunt like it was a baton in the slowest relay race known to man, and Sarah was still curled into John B, nose buried in his neck as she murmured something that made him laugh under his breath. Then the crunch of gravel under tires caught their ears- a car rolling up toward the end of the drive, headlights slicing through the trees. Everyone instinctively turned to look, and when the engine cut and the door swung open, a familiar silhouette stepped out.

“Y/N!”

Sarah called out instantly, lifting her hand in a wave. JJ was already in motion. He practically leapt out of the hammock with a lopsided grin on his face, his movements loose and full of that buzzed joy that lived in him when he was around his people. He jogged toward her, arms wide like he was about to tackle her. Y/N had barely rounded her door when JJ crashed into her, arms circling tight around her waist and lifting her a few inches off the ground in a twirling hug. She let out a breathless laugh, one arm instinctively hooking around his shoulder.

“Jay, are you drunk?”

“Yes ma’am”

He said proudly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek like a sleepy golden retriever. John B called out from the porch, raising his beer in salute.

“And high!”

“Wow what a responsible crowd I’ve joined.”

She looked past JJ and shook her head smiling, JJ grinned and still half-latched to her side laced his fingers between hers and started tugging her toward the group.

“Welcome, my dear sister, to the finest motive on the island.”

“Yeah, it looks so lit”

Y/N snorted as she said dryly, eyeing the half-deflated pool float on the lawn and Kiara using a stick to fish a beer bottle cap out of the fire pit. Pope looked up and offered her a beer, cracking open another one.

“You want?”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

She shook her head, raising a hand politely. JJ was still practically glued to her back, and now his chin came to rest on her shoulder, his head leaning sleepily against hers like gravity had chosen her specifically. She glanced sideways, her voice softening.

“You okay, mister?”

“Right as rain”

He murmured, words muffled against the collar of her white work polo. Y/N smiled to herself and brought one hand up to gently pat his cheek, a small fondness in her eyes. She dropped down onto the worn-out quilt Pope had stretched across the grass, tucking her legs beneath her and setting her keys in a little pile beside the cooler. The smell of bonfire smoke and salty air clung to everything, and the mellow strum of a guitar looped in the background from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. The Chateau felt hazy with summer warmth and low buzzed laughter, like time didn’t really exist here.

“Y'missed blondie trying to backflip off the porch railing”

Cleo said, raising her eyebrows at the girl, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she handed her a cold bottle of water. Pope snorted from where he sat beside her,

“More like he tripped, flailed, and then landed face-first into the lawn chair. Truly a work of art.”

“Sounds about right.”

Y/N laughed, tilting her head back slightly as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Y/N!” Sarah suddenly perked up from where she was comfortably curled up on John B’s lap, her legs stretched out across the blanket and her fingers idly threading through his curls.

“I almost forgot to tell you- we’re all going to a party tomorrow night. You have to come”

“Oh—uh…”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Shit. Rafe had already invited her out tomorrow- there was no way she could show up two places at the same time. She furrowed her brows thinking of a quick excuse, “I don’t think I can,” she said slowly.

“Sofia asked me to cover her shift tomorrow night. Late shift.”

The groans came instantly.

“Noooo” Kiara moaned out in disappointment. “Again?” Cleo frowned as she spoke, “Girl, you’re always working.” JJ leaned up, pulling a dramatic face as he sat up behind her, one hand propped on the ground and the other pointing accusingly.

“Y/N- my sweet, overachieving sister. You never go out.”

“I do go out!”

“When?!” JJ countered, hand waving wildly, “Name one time that we went out that didn’t involve grocery shopping or pretending not to cry while pumping gas for my bike cause you can't afford it.”

“JJ, please,” she groaned, rubbing at her forehead the others watching the small sibling quarrel, “Sofia never gets nights off. I have to fill in for her.”

But even as she said it, her mind was moving. What if I go to Rafe’s first? Just for a bit. Then come late, no one would know, they're on different sides of the island. She knew it was risky but- it was worth the risk if it meant getting her brother off her back. She sighed, trying to keep it casual.

“Where is it anyway... maybe I can stop by before it ends.”

Sarah perked up instantly at the question, “New guy just moved into this insane house on Figure 8- I’m technically on the guest list, so by extension, that means all of you get to come.”

Y/N froze.

Her stomach sank, it’s the same party. Her chest tightened like a fist was forming right behind her ribs. The same one Rafe is going to and now… JJ would be there. All of them would be there. She forced a tight smile, heart beating a little faster and her throat closed up slightly. She can’t go. She can’t risk it—JJ seeing her with Rafe? No. Absolutely not. That would ruin everything. He’d lose it. He’d probably have a fit and if he didn’t, the look in his eyes would be worse. She felt herself retreat inward for a split second- like her body was still sitting there on the blanket, but her mind was miles away, spiralling in panic. Then- she forced it back. Forced her lips into a smile, stretched just wide enough to pass as real. She said, voice smooth,

“I’ll see if I can make it”

“Yeah?”

JJ looked over at her, suspiciously squinting, she nodded without hesitation.

“Maybe just for a bit.”

Even as the lie came out of her mouth, her brain was already racing. Y/N cleared her throat softly, still gripping the now half-empty water bottle in her hand. Her eyes swept across the group lounging lazily on the worn blankets and cushions sprawled out on the overgrown lawn.

“I actually think I’m gonna head back now”

She said, standing up slowly and brushing the bits of grass and twigs from her shorts, “Just came to check up on you guys.”

JJ looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged now on a faded beach towel, lips wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, and gave her a lazy, crooked smile. He winked, blonde hair a windswept mess.

“Mission accomplished sis.”

She rolled her eyes at him, amusement flickering behind her lashes, and bent to grab her keys from the little crate they’d been using as a table.

“You coming back or staying the night?”

She asked, giving him a look as she nodded toward the house, her tone light but a little pointed the role of big sister coming naturally. Before JJ could even open his mouth to respond, John B was already groaning dramatically from the other side of the blanket. “Take him,” he said, flopping his head back against the tree behind him.

“Please. I don’t want him here. He eats everything and he talks in his sleep.”

Sarah burst into laughter in his lap, her whole body shaking with it as she nearly spilled the beer in her hand. “He really does! The other night he mumbled something about raccoons with spatulas.”

“That was one time!”

JJ threw his hands up like he was being framed for a crime. Y/N just bit back a laugh, fighting back a grin watching the chaos unfold with fondness. JJ tilted his head, smirking toward her. “And just because of that,” he said smug as hell,

“I shall be staying the night here. With Mr. John Booker Routledge.”

A round of exaggerated groans erupted from the rest of the group. Y/N laughed under her breath, her fingers still gripping her keys as she shook her head fondly at them. “Alright, alright,” she said,

“Have fun then... don’t get too smashed.”

“No promises!” Kiara called out with a wide smile, raising her can in salute.

“Speak for yourself,” Pope muttered. “I have dignity unlike some.”

That earned another laugh from the group.

Y/N smiled again, softer this time, eyes briefly flicking back to her brother. He caught her gaze and shot her a lopsided grin, one that still looked more boyish than he probably intended. It made something ache a little in her chest- an affection threaded with worry she’d never admit out loud.

“Night Jay”

She murmured before reaching over to ruffle his hair messily. He smiled her lazily before flopping back onto the blanket like a man who had no thoughts, no responsibilities, and no idea that his sister was walking a tightrope he couldn’t see. Y/N turned, the noise behind her fading into the hum of summer insects and music humming from the portable speaker, and walked back to her car,

The car door creaked softly as Y/N pulled it open, the familiar weight of it grounding her just a little. She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her with a muted thunk, the quiet inside the car swallowing up the laughter still drifting from the Chateau. The engine wasn’t running yet, and the warm evening air clung to her skin like a second layer. It smelled like sun-warmed leather and pine needles.

For a moment, she just sat there. Her fingers hovered over her bag before she reached in and pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up as soon as her thumb brushed the side. No new messages. Just the same old wallpaper of a blurry sunset and the faint glint of her own reflection staring back. She hesitated and her thumb hovered over the screen for another beat- then tapped into her messages.

Rafe

The name alone made her chest tighten a little. She bit down on her lower lip, chewing at the soft skin absently. Her other hand reached up to pull her hair away from her face, then fell limply against her lap. The inside of the car felt like it was shrinking. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, a sharp whisper into the quiet. She tapped the messages open. Leaning her head back, she let it fall gently against the headrest, eyes blinking up at the roof of the car as she let out a long, tired sigh. Her fingers rested against the phone in her lap, before tapping her fingers against the screen.

She started typing. Hey, change of plans. I might not— Backspace. No. Too vague so she tried again. Something came up— Backspace. Her heart thudded in her chest, slow and heavy. Then she typed with more finality this time:

Bunny : I'm sorry but I can't do tmr

She stared at it. Read it once. Then twice. Then, with a small exhale that she couldn’t quite tell was relief or regret, she hit send. The text shot off into the thread, disappearing into that blue bubble like a stone dropped into deep water. She locked her phone again, let her head fall back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Her lips pressed into a line. Maybe that’s for the best, she told herself. Maybe-

Buzz.

Her eyes snapped open. The screen lit up and she unlocked it quickly, thumb tapping into the thread without thinking.

Rafe : what why not

Short and blunt. Her stomach twisted, that anxious little knot curling a bit tighter as her thumbs moved again.

Bunny : Your sister’s going to be there which means JJ’s gonna be there

She sat there, holding her breath like it’d keep her heart from thudding so hard. The typing bubble appeared instantly, three dots bouncing like they knew what they were about to say was going to matter more than it should.

Rafe : so what?

Of course, she thought bitterly, jaw tightening. But before she could respond, another message popped up. She blinked, stunned by how he could sound so calm about something that made her whole chest tighten.

Rafe : Why is that a problem

Bunny : It’s a problem cause he’ll see us

Her fingers tapped harder this time and her hand trembled slightly as she held the phone. She hated this—how tense it made her. How she had to think of all the possible consequences when Rafe didn’t even seem to care.

Rafe : are you serious

Bunny : Yes I’m serious wtf do u mean???

Her reply came before she could even second-guess herself but then… nothing. No bubble, no typing dots and her eyes flicked to the corner of the screen at the bottom. Read. That was it? He read it and then disappeared. A dry laugh escaped her lips, more disbelieving than amused. She pushed her palm against her forehead, trying to will away the creeping frustration crawling beneath her skin.

Rafe : You’re really gonna let your brother control us

Bunny : He’s not controlling us

Rafe : Well he’s controlling this.

Her teeth sunk into her lip again, harder this time as the message made her fingers still. She stared at the words, something bitter blooming behind her ribs. Then she typed, slowly, like the question had been sitting on her tongue for a while- because it had.

Bunny : What is this

Bunny : What even is 'this' Rafe?

Read

The air in the car felt heavy now. Thick with silence and words that would never be spoken aloud. She watched the screen for a beat. Then two. Then five. The beats turned into a minute but still there was no response from him so her fingers moved again of their own accord.

Bunny : seriously

Bunny : Leaving me on read are you being for real

Bunny : Hello?

Still.

No answer.

Her mouth twisted into a scoff, this one sharper. Less disbelief and more hurt. She leaned her head back against the seat, her knuckles white where she clutched the phone. She could feel it bubbling now- not anger, not really. Just… disappointment. That familiar ache that curled into her chest when something started to crack and she knew she couldn’t fix it. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she typed one last time.

Bunny : Grow up Rafe

Then she dropped the phone into the empty cup holder with a soft clack and her hands came up, pressing into her face, covering her eyes. She let out a breath- long and slow and quiet. She didn’t even know what this was anymore, or what she wanted it to be.

All she knew was that it hurt.

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

The bass was thumping hard enough to make the floorboards vibrate. Music roared from massive speakers set up on the back patio of the mansion, spilling into every corner of the sprawling beach house like a pulse. The crowd was thick—Kooks and Pogues alike stood packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, grinding, shouting over the noise. Red solo cups littered the deck, the grass, the kitchen counters. Half-empty bottles of liquor sat abandoned on tables, the scent of alcohol and sweat clinging to the humid air. Inside, the lighting was low and tinted gold, shadows dancing as bodies moved through the house, more people flooded through the front door- new arrivals, drawn in by the promise of booze and the thrill of recklessness that always hung thick in the air.

Rafe was in the middle of it, standing near the table on the backyard patio where a lineup of liquor bottles had turned into a makeshift bar. His button-down was half undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar a little askew. He reached for another shot, his fingers curled tight around the glass rim as he knocked it back, throat bobbing as the burn slid down. “Bro,” Kelce said, squinting as he leaned forward, voice slurred with the edge of tipsy concern.

“I never do this but- maybe slow down a little”

“That’s like, your seventh” Topper added from where he was slouched against the couch, a beer dangling between his fingers.

“You good man?”

“I’m fine”

Rafe muttered, his voice low, gruff, and not even remotely convincing. His jaw flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead. He didn’t look at either of them as he spoke but he wasn’t fine. Not even close. His head was heavy, the alcohol catching up to him in a sluggish crawl through his limbs. He could feel it in his slow, unsteady blink. In the weight of his shoulders, in the way the music felt a little too loud, a little too sharp.

She wasn’t here- Y/N wasn’t here.

And he hated that it mattered. Hated that he kept glancing toward the front door every time someone new walked in- just in case she'd changed her mind. Hated that he could hear her voice in the back of his mind. “I can’t go, your sister’s going to be there” ... “JJ will be there” ... “He’ll see us.” His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, the burn of the liquor lingering in his chest. She was always so damn concerned about JJ, about keeping him in the dark- about keeping them in the dark.

Like this is all some secret she needs to protect.

Topper was saying something again, laughing about a girl he’d hooked up with last weekend, but Rafe didn’t hear it. He was staring at the countertop, where drops of clear liquor beaded on the marble surface. His hand was still fisted around the empty shot glass. He looked like a storm waiting to happen- cheeks a little flushed, eyes shadowed and distant, lip twitching at the corner in a scowl. But under it all, he was sulking. Quietly. Bitterly. Like a kid who didn’t get what he wanted.

And all he wanted was her.

The rumble of the Twinkie pulling up was swallowed by the thump of music echoing off the walls of the massive house. Lights flashing inside spilled through the tall windows in bursts that lit up the manicured lawn and the stretch of cars already jammed up along the curb. The Pogues piled out- John B leading the charge in his usual messy curls with Sarah right on his heels, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo. JJ slammed the passenger door shut with his hip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose cargo shorts, eyes flicking over the crowd on the lawn before following- Pope, Kiara and Cleo weren’t far behind.

The house was huge. Open floor plan, high ceilings, the kind of kitchen you only saw on cooking shows. People were everywhere—on the stairs, pressed against walls, spilling onto balconies. It smelled like weed and citrus vodka, and someone in the hallway was definitely already throwing up. “Damn,” John B muttered as they walked in, eyebrows raised.

“This place is nice.”

“No shit”

Pope said, already eyeing the built-in speakers in the ceiling. Cleo let out a low whistle and made a beeline for the massive kitchen island, where liquor bottles and mixers lined the counters like a buffet. She said with a grin, snatching a bottle of rum and starting to pour,

“The free alcohol is even nicer”

“Now this is why I dragged you guys here..’.”

Sarah laughed, reaching over to help herself to a half-mixed drink and Kiara grabbed a couple of plastic cups, handing them around. The music rattled the cabinets, the floor under their shoes vibrating faintly in time with the beat. People were dancing in the next room, someone yelling something about beer pong from the backyard, but the Pogues took a moment to regroup in the kitchen. JJ stood a bit apart from the group, back braced against the counter, swirling whatever was in his cup without really drinking it. His hat was pulled low, hair curling beneath the brim, and there was a little pinch between his brows that hadn’t faded since they arrived. Kiara noticed first. She nudged him gently with her elbow, tilting her head toward him.

“She’s not coming then?”

JJ blinked, not catching the question right away over the music.

“Huh?”

“Y/N- she’s not coming?”

Sarah repeated, louder this time, looking up from her drink. JJ’s expression tightened for a split second, and he looked down into his cup like it suddenly had answers. “Nah,” he said, voice clipped.

“She’s not.”

There was something in the way he said it in a short and flat tone, a little irritated like he didn’t want to care, but he did. Kiara gave a small nod and didn’t press. Instead, she reached out, rubbed his arm gently with her hand before stepping away to help Pope crack open a bottle of something suspiciously blue. No one said anything else. But in the middle of the crowd, under the flashing lights and the pounding bass, JJ stood a little stiller than the rest. Eyes drifting toward the front door they'd came through like maybe- just maybe- she’d still show.

Rafe shoved his way through the backyard, the lights and thumping music cutting through the cool air like a heavy pulse. He could feel the tension in his chest, the tightness that hadn’t loosened since their texts earlier... "What is this"... That question had been eating at him ever since because he didn't know what it was. But that didn't change the fact that his mind kept circling back to her. The way she made him feel, how easy it was to talk to her, how easy it was to just be around her- it wasn’t like anything he'd ever experienced. And it scared him. Because he wasn’t the kind of guy to get tangled up in feelings, he didn’t do that. But Y/N, she was different- it unsettled him. He couldn’t admit that to her, though. Couldn’t let her know that she was getting under his skin, into his bloodstream like a drug, that she was getting too close.

By the time he made it through the crowd and into the kitchen, he was ready for another drink, maybe more than one. The sound of glass bottles clinking and people chatting loudly barely registered in his mind as he reached the counter, eyes scanning the chaos for what he needed. He was almost there, his hand reaching for the first bottle of vodka, when he collided with someone.

Thud

He didn’t even flinch, just kept moving forward until he heard a sharp, annoyed voice.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe’s shoulder had shoved into Sarah, causing her to stumble back just a little. She glared up at him, her eyes narrowing with irritation. He didn’t care and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk with her.

“You’re excused”

He muttered back, not even bothering to meet her eyes as he grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off.

“Asshole”

Sarah muttered under her breath, clearly unamused, but Rafe wasn’t listening. He poured the liquor into his cup with a steady hand, watching the clear liquid slosh into the glass. The burn in his throat might’ve been the only thing that could numb the frustration gnawing at him. He downed it in one go, feeling it course through his body. Rafe stood near the edge of the kitchen, the alcohol still burning in his stomach as he surveyed the crowd. The noise was becoming a dull roar in the background, a blur of laughter and shouting, but his mind was still running on autopilot. He tried to focus on his drink, twisting the glass in his hand, but then something caught his ear.

JJ

He was talking to John B, and it didn’t take long for Rafe to hear the frustration in his voice. JJ’s words carried across the room, loud enough for Rafe to pick up on.

“I don’t get it bro”

JJ was saying, his voice edged with something close to bitterness already lightly slurred from the alcohol he consumed since they arrived, “Y/N’s always working. Always dude. It’s like- I literally got a job so she could work less? And she still can’t make time for anything. Not for me. Not for us. She's always got some lame ass excuse.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened at the sound of JJ’s voice, and he instinctively stepped closer to the conversation, the growing frustration in his chest gnawing at him. He watched as JJ’s face twisted, anger bubbling up in his expression.

“She’s never around anymore. Like, she’s always somewhere else, doing something else. It’s like she doesn't care- You know what? Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t want to spend time with maybe I’m just a fucking inconvenience to her.”

John B shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to respond. He just nodded slowly, not really agreeing or disagreeing as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. Rafe’s pulse spiked. His chest felt tight, and for a moment, the room seemed to narrow around him. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white.

He was angry.

No, he was beyond angry.

He could feel the heat rising in his body, but it wasn’t just because of JJ’s words. It was the way he was talking about Y/N, so dismissively, so coldly. The kitchen was still a chaotic blend of chatter and clinking glass, the music vibrating through the floor, and the air thick with alcohol. But his mind wasn’t on the drink anymore. It was on her—on Y/N. On the way she would slave away all day in her shitty job only to go home to a brother who wasn't even grateful? He could hear JJ’s voice cutting through the noise of the house, loud and full of venom. Rafe turned, just in time to catch the words.

“Acting like she’s such a good fuckin’ sister,” JJ spat, his words as he gestured around. “When she can’t even take the time out of her day to talk to me. It’s a fuckin’ jok, man..”

John B was still next to him, leaning against the counter, his eyes tired, clearly not wanting to get involved in the growing tension. But he let out a soft sigh and said,

“Come on, man. You’re being a little harsh she does a lot for you-”

“-No. I’m not,”

But JJ wasn’t having it. His face twisted into a mix of frustration and bitterness. “She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself," he snapped, his voice louder now.

"She’s a shitty fuckin’ sister.”

Rafe could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. He was barely holding it together at this point. His hand clenched around his glass, and without thinking, he pushed himself away from where he was and made his way towards the blonde haired pogue,“Hey-” Rafe’s voice was rough, his jaw tightening,

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

JJ didn’t even hesitate as his brow furrowed, his head snapping toward Rafe, his eyes narrowing. The smirk on his face was all cocky arrogance, like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Rafe stood in front of JJ, his fists clenched so tightly around the edge of the counter that his knuckles were turning white. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the alcohol in his system only amplifying the frustration that had been simmering for hours.

"You really think you know your sister?"

Rafe's voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word laced with disbelief and a deepening anger. His gaze was intense, narrowing as he stared down at JJ, his stance aggressive and unsteady from the booze. JJ didn’t flinch, instead, he scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you know about her?”

The words were laced with spite, his eyes flashing as he shot back, barely holding back his irritation. He was drunk, way too much to back down. The space between them was closing, both of them leaning in slightly, their bodies tense as if they were about to collide. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered between JJ’s face and the rest of the room. John B was already sighing, rubbing his hand over his face, clearly feeling the impending collision. His tone was a little exasperated.

“Alright, guys... let's not do this tonight.”

But his words were barely a whisper in the whirlwind of tension between JJ and Rafe. They didn't take their eyes off each other. Rafe stood his ground, every inch of his body radiating the anger and frustration he’d been holding back all night. His expression twisted into something cold, nasty, as his voice came out low, almost a growl.

"A lot more than you"

He spat, the words dripping with contempt. JJ’s eyes flared with fury, and before anyone fully processed the insult, his body reacted. Without thinking, he shoved Rafe, a rough, sudden motion that sent the air between them crackling.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His words were sharp, cutting through the already tense atmosphere like a knife. The crowd around them seemed to gather and the only thing that mattered now seemed to be this confrontation, the two of them standing face to face, inches away from an explosion. Rafe’s jaw clenched, his teeth gritting as he stumbled back just a half-step from the shove. But he didn’t let it slide, his eyes burned with rage, and with a brutal shove of his own, he sent JJ stumbling back.

“Get off me, you dirty fucking pogue”

He snarled, his voice a low rasp. John B and Pope, sensing the situation spiraling, rushed in to intervene, but their voices only seemed to intensify the already-fueled fire.

“Hey, hey—alright JJ stop."

“C’mon man”

John B called out, his tone a mix of frustration and concern, his hand on JJ’s arm trying to pull him back. But JJ, his face red with anger, ignored them, shoving them off as if they were nothing. His eyes were locked on Rafe, his fists trembling with barely contained rage. Sarah, standing nearby, caught sight of the escalating tension and turned to Rafe with an incredulous expression.

“What is your problem?”

She spoke out her voice sharp as he brows drew down into a concerned frown, but Rafe didn’t even glance at her. His attention was fully on JJ, the hate between them palpable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the entire kitchen watching in stunned interest as the two guys stood their postures defiant, aggressive. JJ, unable to take the weight of the situation anymore, spun on his heel and began to turn away, his anger boiling over, his fists still clenched with popes hand on his arm leading him away. But Rafe’s voice, cutting through the tense silence, sliced through the air like a final verdict.

“I pity her for having a brother like you”

He said, the words slow and deliberate, aimed to sting. The room went deathly quiet apart from a few low mutters, and for a split second and the words hung in the air like a curse. JJ froze, his back to Rafe, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His body went rigid, the hurt flashing in his eyes as he clenched his jaw tighter. Kiara’s voice came through softly, but it was too late.

“JJ don’t”

She pleaded, but JJ had already turned and with a motion of pure, unfiltered anger, he threw a punch, his fist flying straight at Rafe’s face with all the pent-up rage he’d been holding back. The force behind it was hard enough to knock Rafe off balance, and in that moment, the air around them seemed to explode. Everything that had been building up, the tension, the anger, the frustration- finally came to a head.

And just like that, the fight erupted.

The air was thick with the sounds of punches landing, grunts of pain, and the occasional slap of skin against skin. People's previous murmuring had turned to excited yells and cheers, phones being raised as they recorded the ordeal. JJ’s vision was red, every inch of his body screamed as he threw wild punches, each one landing with force, but Rafe was no slouch- he met every hit with a violent shove or a retaliatory strike of his own. JJ's jaw was clenched tight as he pushed against Rafe, throwing a punch that caught him square in the ribs, causing the other man to grunt in pain. Rafe staggered but didn’t fall, instead grabbing JJ’s shirt and yanking him forward with a growl. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, sweat and blood mixing, the scent of alcohol clouding the air. Rafe’s eyes were wild, his face contorted with anger as he bit out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable harsh and slurred.

“If you love your sister so much, why is she always running to me when she’s got problems, huh?”

His grip tightened on JJ’s shirt, pulling him in closer, their faces just inches from one another. His words were cold, bitter. JJ blinked, his mind struggling to process what Rafe just said. His nostrils flared as his nose dripped blood, a line of crimson streaking down his face. JJ’s voice was a low growl, disoriented, the anger still there but replaced by confusion.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought”

Rafe sneered, a harsh laugh falling from his lips, his bloodshot eyes alight with a murderous glint. JJ’s fury surged again, his face lit with rage as his eyes narrowed, locking onto Rafe’s smug expression. Without warning, he launched himself forward, his head connecting with Rafe’s face in a brutal headbutt. The impact was sickening- Rafe’s head snapped back violently, and a grunt escaped him. He staggered back a step, dazed, blood oozing from his busted lip.

Rafe didn’t back down, he shoved JJ with both hands, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The two of them were back at it in an instant, their bodies crashing together, fists flying in every direction. JJ’s elbow connected with Rafe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Rafe faltered this time, falling backward, his balance compromised. He hit the ground hard, the floor beneath him rattling. For a split second, the fight paused. Rafe lay there, stunned, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. But JJ was already on him, a feral grunt escaping his throat as he scrambled to pin Rafe down. He grabbed Rafe’s polo top, yanking him up to his face, his grip like iron. His chest was heaving, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps as he leaned in close, his face twisted in disgust.

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like you know her- you don't know anything about her- you don't know her like I do.”

JJ snarled, his voice low and seething. His words were laced with every ounce of hurt, frustration, and protective anger he could muster. Rafe’s head lolled back for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused from the blows. He let out a drunken, mocking scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping from his busted lips. His mouth was smeared with blood, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable, even through the haze of intoxication. He muttered so only the blonde boy could hear, the words sharp, but somehow quieter than before.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant”

The entire world seemed to stop in that instant.

JJ's grip slackened, his fingers loosening around Rafe’s shirt and his chest tightened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him in an instant. John B and Pope, who had been trying to pull the two apart for the last few moments, finally managed to tear JJ off Rafe. JJ didn’t resist this time, his body felt stiff like stone, his mind struggling to catch up with what he just heard. Rafe lay on the floor, barely able to lift his head, but his voice, now quieter and almost hollow, drifted through the space between them. “Yeah,” he said, his words slow and deliberate,

“She didn’t tell you, JJ. She came to me.”

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby@ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog@rafesgurl@rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl@silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt@ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn @emeloyy @pluviophilis@slut-4-gojo @willowpains @wtfisastiles @rafecqmeronslove @pleasstory@lolasangelz @beau-dabomb @psychocitylights @constantsadness @rhianthebest@emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @ggraycelynn @larema121 @emeloyy @pluviophilis@urgoldens @insominagirlss @urfavoritebrunette007 @mauvesmax @miniiminie@kythefangirl25 @niyalovests @scream4mami @aizawawify @prettybabyyyy@barbiefan14 @keennerdslover @rafeysslut @rafeysworldim19@jennieonline@hannieskzzz@sugak00kie03@gabrielaperez11@simonejacpbsen @bambigirl10 @prettycoochieee

[blackeyen2kisses]

pathetic bf!seunghyun (headcannons)

summary: bf!seunghyun who is incredibly down bad for his girlfriend.

an: hello! this is my first fic on this account, im so excited to share it with you. i hope you enjoy <3 (ALSO, please ignore any spelling/grammar errors i didn’t proofread.)

bf!seunghyun who: didn’t care for love/relationships until he met you.

bf!seunghyun who: swears carless whisper by george micheal played in his head when he laid eyes on you for the first time.

bf!seunghyun who: likes to spend his down time making you playlists and/or writing you songs/raps. he likes to communicate through music.

bf!seunghyun who: calls you sweet girl and thinks it fits perfectly. you are his sweet girl. he thinks youre the sweetest, most angelic being hes ever met.

bf!seunghyun who: will agree to just about anything for your sake (“yeah i dont know, i just dont really feel like going out today” he mummered to jiyong, burying himself further into the fluffy cloud that was his bed, dead set on spending his night curled in bed. until you walked into the room. “seunghyun, lets go out tonight, i need to get out of this house.” seunghyun shot out of bed, unraveling himself from the covers and intertwined your hands, “yeah, sweet girl, lets go.” suddenly alive and full of energy. unaware of jiyong snickering behind him.

bf!seunghyun who: genuinely believes he cant go more than an hour without having his hands on you in someway. wether that be his hand in yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, his fingers curled in your hair, or his fingers inside, yes inside the waist of your jeans, resting against the warmth of your skin.

bf!seunghyun who: when you two sleep has to either be little spoon or lay on top of you (while you scratch his back.)

bf!seunghyun who: is only comfortable with you touching him

bf!seunghyun who: literally calls/texts you every chance he gets. in between recordings, while in the bath, while getting his hair done. he’ll text you every thought that crosses his mind. (itll be three in the morning and youll get a text from him like, “i just realized, nothing is ON fire. fire is on THINGS.”)

bf!seunghyun who: does things for you he knows you can do yourself, such as, brushing and drying your hair after a shower, carrying you from place to place in your shared apartment, brushing your teeth, grabbing things that are just out of reach, tieing your shoes, no matter how much you insist you’re perfectly cable. he cant help it; youre his angel.

bf!seunghyun who: genuinely tears up when you get mad at him (you immediately feel horrible and give in.)

bf!seunghyun who: loves to lay his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair (he falls asleep immediately.)

bf!seunghyun who: hangs onto every word you say. he’ll remember something you vaguely told him months later. (“hey, sweet girl, i got you one of those sun…sunny…sonny..angels…whatever you call them,” he said when he came home from the store, placing the sonny angel box on your lap, then, planting gentle kisses onto the corners of your lips, your nose, your temple, your eyelids. you smile, wondering how the hell he knew you wanted one. you giggle, placing your hand on his cheek and rubbing your thumb across his soft skin as he leans into your touch, “how’d you know i wanted one?” he looked at you as though the answer was obvious, “you mentioned it when you saw a tiktok video in..may” may was 8 months ago?)

bf!seunghyun who: apologizes by getting on his knees, putting his head in your lap, and kissing your hands profusely. muttering over and over how sorry he is and how he’ll do better.

bf!seunghyun who: follows you around everywhere like a little cat. always hovering over your shoulder. if you guys are sitting on the couch and you get up to get a glass of water, trust, he’ll get up and go with you with a content smile on his face. he has attachment issues.

bf!seunghyun who: when your making out and you pull away, looks at you, breathing all hard, like he physically needs more.

bf!seunghyun who: when he has to travel for work will send you a poem a day. (“hey, sweet girl, you will never be unloved by me. you are too well tangled in my soul; hello, my sweet girl, my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. love you always.”)

bf!seunghyun who: is completely obsessed with you.

[aila0veyou2death]

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬

𖹭 pairing: viltrumite!mark grayson x flesh-hungry!female!reader (A.K.A warlord prince with god complex x bio-engineered monster girl built for carnage)

𖹭 TW: DUB CON, dark content, blood, gore, violence, power imbalance, swearing, possessive behavior, death, non-human biology, captivity, enemies-to-lovers trope?, face-fvcking, p in a v, size difference, breeding k1nk, dumbification, belly bulging, master/pet dynamic, overstimulation, biting, marking, p0rn with a plot.

𖹭 author's note: This fic is long, dark, messy, and 100% born from my horny little brain while watching Invincible Hope you enjoy :P

Silence had never sounded so victorious.

What was once a vibrant blue planet, bursting with resistance and stubborn will, now lay in ruins. Cities crumbled. Skyscrapers reduced to bones. Blood dried into the dirt...Humanity tried its best—they fought with desperation, with all the fire they could muster.

But in the end, it was never a fair fight.

The Viltrumites walked the Earth's surface like gods claiming what was rightfully theirs.

Mark Grayson—son of a human mother, molded by a Viltrumite father—flew alongside the others in silence, dressed in the same white uniform. His gaze was sharp, scanning the rubble below. He didn't blink. Didn't speak. Just watched as his people moved like a plague across the land, searching through the decay not for survivors, but for something more valuable.

Secrets. Weapons. Leftovers of mankind's final, frantic efforts to defend itself.

They scoured beneath the ash, the collapsed buildings, the bones of a world that had tried to resist. Eventually, they found it—underground bunkers hidden deep beneath the crust of a dead world.

Inside, scraps of humanity clung to life. The scent of sweat, fear, and filth hit them first. Then came the screams—raw, panicked, and pointless.

The survivors didn't beg. They knew better. They cried, they clutched each other, they tried to run.

Mark said nothing. Not a single word. He didn't interfere. He simply watched, unmoved, as the others handled it. Blood filled the halls and screams died quickly.

There was no mercy left to give. Only silence and death.

Not a single emotion flickered in his eyes. No sorrow. No pity. No guilt. Nothing.

Not even as he hovered above the charred remains of the planet that birthed him.

Earth burned. And he watched.

He had been taken away before he ever had the chance to experience what this world could have offered him—just a boy when his father brought him to Viltrum, to be raised as one of their own. As a soldier. As an heir.

There were no childhood memories to mourn. No human attachments to cloud his judgment. To him, Earth was not home. It was a mission. A conquest. Another name on the long list of worlds that fell beneath the Viltrumite flag.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

He didn't flinch. He knew that grip—it was measured, heavy, and commanding.

He turned his head slightly, meeting the sharp, weathered gaze of his father. Nolan stood beside him, armor stained with blood and ash, his cape fluttering in the dead wind. He looked at his son, not with warmth or pride—but with the calm precision of a general addressing his equal.

Nolan's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from his son to the smoldering wreckage below. The quiet crackle of still-burning buildings echoed between them like a lullaby of conquest.

"It's pathetic." he muttered, voice slicing through the smoke. "The ones hiding underground. Crammed in piss-soaked bunkers, clinging to some foolish hope that their heroes would come back for them."

Mark said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"They should've surrendered," Nolan went on, colder now. "Some did. The smarter ones. But the rest?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Cowards. Hiding like insects in the dark. It’s disgraceful."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant wind and the distant creaking of a collapsed tower.

Then Nolan spoke again, glancing sideways at Mark. "We should check the GDA's underground facilities. Cecil was always hiding something. Back when I worked with him, I caught whispers—rumors of illegal experiments, unnatural weapons… even bio-creatures bred for war."

Mark’s brow furrowed slightly. "You think they actually built something strong enough to stop us?"

Nolan let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Doubtful. But who knows? If there is something down there, it could either be a useful tool… or a lingering threat. More likely, just another one of Cecil's pathetic failures rotting in the dark."

He looked ahead, eyes sharp. "Whatever it is, we can't leave it unchecked."

Without another word, Nolan lifted his hand and gestured.

From above, four Viltrumites dropped through the smoke in perfect formation, landing beside them in silence. Their white uniforms were stained with dirt and streaks of blood, but their expressions were calm and ready.

"Head to the GDA headquarters," Nolan ordered. "New York is nothing but bones now, but if they hid anything, it's down there. Deep." He turned to Mark. "We dig. We search. No stone left untouched. I want their secrets exposed and buried with them."

Mark gave a small nod and took off, the others following behind. They soared through the grey sky, silent wings of death gliding over what was once one of the busiest cities in the world.

Below, skyscrapers stood like charred tombstones, windows blown out, steel skeletons groaning in the wind. The familiar spire of the GDA building jutted out from the rubble, half of it caved in, the rest barely standing. Whatever was beneath it had remained hidden even through Earth’s last breath.

The Viltrumites landed and began tearing into the rubble like it was paper, shoving aside steel beams and broken machinery.

They crashed through steel and concrete with ease, moving deeper into the abyss beneath the ruined city. Reinforced floors gave way. Labs long abandoned passed in a blur of rusted equipment and glass. The dust thickened. Lights flickered, dim and weak like dying stars. The silence turned heavy. Tense. Wrong.

Then they found it—buried farther than any of them expected. A sealed facility, hidden beneath layers of stone and steel. Carved into the earth like something meant to stay forgotten. The air down there clung to them, thick with rot, blood, and iron.

The hallway ahead was narrow, smeared with the stains of time and something more violent. Rust bled down the walls in lines like veins. Blood left in handprints. Claw marks. Torn restraints bolted to the walls. Some of the doors were dented from the inside.

Nolan stepped forward and shoved one of them open with a metallic shriek.

WEEOO-WEEOO-WEEOO—

The alarms wailed like dying animals, echoing up every floor and spilling out into the ruined city above. Scarlet lights flooded the hallway, pulsing like veins. It was a scream. It reached the top of the building. The streets. The sky. Every Viltrumite nearby the area turned their head at the sound that's coming from crumbling structure.

And in the depths of that pulsing red light... something laughed.

Soft at first, childlike and playful.

Then it grew louder. Sharper. Hungrier.

A small figure dragged itself from the darkness of a ruined chamber, half-naked, blood-stained, nails cracked and filthy, hair tangled into a wild, matted mess. Your eyes were wide, glowing faintly under the emergency lights. Your body was trembling—not from fear, but from hunger. You hadn’t fed properly in months. Maybe years. And their scent—those clean, proud Viltrumite bastards reeking of blood under their pristine uniforms—hit your senses like a drug.

You smiled wide.

Your gaze snapped to the Viltrumites—and your pupils dilated.

You lunged.

It all went to hell from there.

The first Viltrumite barely had time to blink before you slammed into him, your fangs tearing deep into his throat. You shook your head violently, ripping out chunks of flesh like a starving beast. His scream gurgled to nothing as you twisted—snapping his neck and tearing it free with a savage pull.

You bounced off the falling body, landing on all fours like an animal, with his head still in your hands. Then you bit into it, chewing with noisy satisfaction, like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

The others quickly charged, and one swung but missed.

You dropped the head mid-laugh, and grabbed his wrist, twisted it until the bones snapped loud enough to echo. He screamed. You slammed him into the wall so hard the stone cracked. The third came next—until your claws tore through his chest and you punched into his stomach, yanking out his organs like candy from a piñata.

"Oooh, so warm~!" you cooed, blood dripping from your chin. "Fresh meat really hits hard."

Mark stood frozen, mouth slightly open. His fists clenched and unclenched like his brain hadn't caught up yet. "What the hell...?"

Nolan didn't speak. His expression was hard, unreadable. But his eyes narrowed—and he took a single step back when you ripped the body in half, gore spraying across the floor in a wet splash.

No mortal prisoner stood before them—but a demon cloaked in flesh.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as more Viltrumites stormed in, drawn by the alarm—only to find two of their own dead, one barely clinging to life, and you at the center of it all. Blood-drenched, crouched low like a beast, surrounded by the shredded remains of their comrades. You grinned from ear to ear, fangs glinting in the scarlet light, eyes sparkling with joy.

You looked up at the new arrivals and waved with a severed hand.

"More food?" you asked sweetly, licking blood from the stiff fingers in your grasp. "Hell yeah! Looks like we're going full course for breakfast today."

Mark's stomach twisted. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He was frozen in shock, even as his fists clenched on instinct.

Nolan's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with rage.

And then you moved again—laughing, a blur of gore and teeth as you lunged forward.

The fight erupted.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You left a trail of carnage in your wake—bodies were torn, blood still warm, the taste of Viltrumite flesh clinging to your tongue like candy. They fought hard. Harder than you expected. But not hard enough to stop you.

Some were left twitching on the ground, ribs shattered and lungs heaving. Others were little more than red pulp smeared across the concrete. You didn't kill all of them—not out of mercy, but because you were too full, too high on the rush of violence, and too focused on one thing now.

Escape.

You burst through the final floor like a cannonball, tearing through the layers of the GDA's underground like tissue paper. The red lights still flashed behind you, alarms screamed themselves hoarse. Your bare feet slammed into the cracked pavement of the surface—them you froze.

For the first time in decades, you felt air that hadn't been filtered through vents or tasted like copper. The sky opened above you—gray, grimy, sick with smoke, but still a sky. Buildings stood in disrepair, cracked and leaning, some half-swallowed by the earth like rotting teeth. The world wasn't at peace. But it wasn't the warzone you remembered either.

You stood on shaking legs—bare, blood-streaked, sun-drunk—blinking hard against the harsh, unfiltered daylight. Everything felt too big. Too open. Too quiet. You could still hear the screams of the underground, the alarms howling like dying things, the wet crunch of bone in your teeth. Blood still clung to your mouth like honey.

What happened here—?

A sudden gust of wind blew behind you—it was sharp, fast, and heavy.

Before you could fully turn, something slammed into your cheek like a meteor. The impact sent your body spiraling backward through the air, crashing through an abandoned car and skidding against the pavement before you dug your claws in, stopping yourself with a screech of broken concrete.

You snarled, wiping blood from your mouth, eyes snapping up at the figure hovering midair.

Dark hair. Blood on his fists. Chest rising and falling with tight, controlled fury.

Mark Grayson.

His eyes locked onto you, not with fear—but something worse. Cold, seething frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, twitching like he was holding back the urge to rip you apart on sight. He was scratched up, bruised, panting. Signs of your earlier encounter still painted across his skin. Behind him, more Viltrumites descended from the clouds like vultures, with Nolan among them, arms crossed, silently watching.

"Well, well," you purred, dragging yourself up to your feet with a crooked grin. "Aren't you a pretty one."

Mark didn't waste time. He charged.

You stepped aside like you were dancing, catching his arm mid-swing—but he twisted, and the two of you went crashing into the ground. His body slammed into yours, forcing the air from your lungs. You hit the pavement hard. It cracked beneath you.

You laughed.

Your legs locked around his torso, muscle to muscle, as you twisted and the two of you crashed through the skeleton of another half-standing building.

"Is this how you greet girls these days?" you breathed, grinning at him. "Tsk. No flowers? No sweet talk? Geez. What's up with men lately?"

Mark gritted his teeth, trying to overpower you.

You leaned in close, whispering against his jaw. "You always this rough on your dates, pretty boy?"

The two of you clashed again and again—flesh against flesh, teeth bared, blood spilled. The ground split open beneath your feet with every collision, debris flying, the city echoing with the sound of carnage. You were laughing—breathless, wild, drunk on adrenaline. Mark was giving you a fight, and god, it felt good.

But he was starting to slip.

You saw it in the way his chest heaved, in the slight delay between his punches. And worse—he hesitated. Just once. His gaze dropped to your mouth, flushed and slick with blood, and he flinched when you licked it slow, grinning through the chaos.

"Fuck, that hurts so good..."

That's when they invaded.

The other Viltrumites descended like mad hounds. You didn't get a warning—just the sudden weight of five bodies crashing into you mid-lunge. You screamed, thrashed, tore into one's side with your claws and sent another flying with a headbutt. One tried to grab your wrists but you quickly snapped his fingers like twigs. Another went for your legs and you sunk your heel into his jaw.

You were brutal. A machine built to kill. But they didn’t care. They kept coming.

You growled, nearly feral, muscles screaming under the strain of so many hands forcing you down. Your feet left the ground. You were held in place by sheer numbers that had your back arched and neck straining. One arm was pinned behind you, another around your ribs, another around your throat.

Then you saw... him.

Nolan.

Hovering just out of reach. Watching you with cold judgment in his eyes.

Something inside you snapped.

You lunged, with your head whipping forward like a beast. You nearly got him—teeth bared, inches from tearing into his throat—but you were yanked back at the last second. Still, it rattled them. They didn’t expect you to go for the general.

And neither did Mark.

He moved without thinking and slammed into you with enough force to break a mountain, shoulder in your gut, arm locking around your chest as he drove you to the ground.

"Stop!" he shouted, his breath hot against your skin.

You twisted in his grip—then bit down. Hard.

Your sharp teeth sank into his forearm, tearing its skin, ripping the muscle. He shouted, blood running warm across your tongue. You could taste him—Viltrumite blood, rich and violent, flooding your mouth like a reward.

He yanked his arm back and without pause, drove his fist into your jaw—forcefully.

You were still smiling as you went down, lips smeared in red. "...fucking awesome." you muttered breathless, the taste of Viltrumite blood still warm in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as the world cracked sideways. Your body slumped and the sky above you blurred. You barely heard the other Viltrumites yelling before your knees buckled and your vision started to go dark.

The last thing you saw was Mark's face—shocked, bleeding, staring down at you like he didn't know whether to be petrified or fascinated.

And then, there were arms around you.

Strong and steady. Definitely his.

Mark caught you before you hit the ground completely, lowering you into his hold like he wasn't still bleeding from your bite, like he didn't just knock you out cold. You didn't feel the relief in the others, or the weight of containment cuffs snapping around your wrists. All you felt was warmth, before darkness swallowed you once again.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You stirred with a groan, pain blooming at the base of your skull. Your body ached, heavy and sore like you've been hit by a planet—and maybe, in a way, you had. Your thoughts came sluggish, swimming through the fog in your head. Voices echoed around you, distant and distorted at first, like they were bouncing off the walls of your skull. But slowly, they grew clearer—they sharpened into words, whispers, and conversations.

Your eyes cracked open.

Bright lights seared into your vision.

You were kneeling.

Both knees pressed against freezing tiles, with your legs spread apart as if it forced open with no mercy. Thick restraints clamped tightly around your wrists behind your back, made of some dense, unyielding alloy that even your strength couldn't break through. The cold kiss of metal crawled over your spine. Chains dug into your skin where you had already been bruised, holding you still.

You were naked.

Completely.

There was no cloth, no covering—nothing to shield you from the cold or the sea of eyes watching from every corner of the stadium. The air prickled along every inch of your exposed skin, and the lights were focused solely on you, spotlighting every inch of your body—every inhuman line, every unnatural curve, every scar and every mark. Every part of what made you a monster was put on display.

A muzzle clamped tightly over the lower half of your face, molded hard against your jaw. It silenced you completely. No speaking. No biting. Just the soft rasp of your breath through your nose, quick and sharp, barely enough to calm the burn in your lungs. Your mouth was sealed shut.

A low growl rumbled from deep in your chest.

The sound cut through the low hum of voices like a blade.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The entire stadium fell silent.

Dozens—no, hundreds of eyes snapped to you.

They were all Viltrumites.

All of them. Rows of them, seated in ranks dressed in pristine white uniforms, most of them were cloaked—like some twisted cult of gods looking down at their captured beast. Their faces were cold, observing, and judgmental.

You shot the crowd with a venomous glare.

Then, one of the seated figures stood.

"It seems the beast has finally awoken."

The voice cut clean through the silence—calm, commanding, sharp as a blade. "Good."

General Nolan stepped forward, his presence heavy like gravity, each step deliberate. The stadium seemed to tense beneath his weight. He didn't look away from you, not even once, not even while the crowd of white-cloaked Viltrumites leaned in, listening. Hanging on his every word.

"This is the weapon that slaughtered twenty-seven of our finest." he announced, voice crisp and brutal. "An Earth-born experiment that crawled out of her hole after decades of silence. Not a soldier. Not a warrior. A threat. One that’s proven herself to be something far more dangerous than even a Viltrumite..."

You weren't listening to him.

Not really.

You didn't care for his dramatic little speech. All you cared about was the weight of the chains digging into your wrists and the deep, familiar ache that sparked in your muscles. You shifted on your knees, raw skin scraping against the cold metal floor as you tested your bounds again. Harder. Rougher. You knew they were watching. You simply didn't care.

Your breath came fast through your nose, the muzzle clamped over your mouth keeping you from speaking, biting, screaming. It was tight. Containing. But it wouldn't hold you back forever.

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

Then came the footsteps.

One by one, other Viltrumites stepped forward—soldiers, elites, survivors. Each of them wore the scars of your fury like badges of shame. Torn uniforms, burned skin, bruises blooming down their jaws and ribs. Some limped, others stood stiff and bloodied. They looked like warriors who had fought something far worse than their own.

They stood beside Nolan, forming a silent wall of evidence, an undeniable proof of your destruction.

"...To those who doubt what she's capable of," Nolan continued, gesturing toward them, "Let these survivors be your reminder—of the massacre she unleashed. Of the destruction this monster has caused."

A ripple of hushed awe and unease moved through the stadium. Even behind disgusted whispers and down-turned mouths, you could feel it.

Fear.

Respect.

Even some admiration.

They weren't just looking at you like a monster. No. Some of them were looking at you like you were unstoppable.

A force of nature.

You kept your head high despite the chains, the cold, the exposure. And as your gaze flicked across the stage, your eyes locked on something else—someone else.

Pretty boy.

He was standing just behind Nolan. Silent and stiff.

His face was hard to read, his jaw tight, but his eyes never left yours. Even after everything, he wouldn't stop looking at you.

And then there was Anissa, standing beside him like a shadow. Arms crossed, chin lifted slightly, like she was trying to figure you out. Judging and calculating. Not impressed—but not dismissive, either. She whispered something to Mark, a sharp little comment masked behind a smirk.

He didn't look at her. Didn't react. His gaze was locked on you.

And despite everything—despite the bruises on your body, the metal biting into your wrists, the weight of every eye watching—you smirked behind the muzzle.

Even now. Even here.

You could feel it.

That heat in your veins.

That wild pulse in your chest.

That hunger.

And he was still watching.

Their voices rose around you—cold and calculating, debating your fate like you were some unruly creature rather than a living being. The Viltrumite council spoke in harsh tones. Some suggested you be kept alive for study, molded into a living weapon. Your strength was too rare, too valuable to waste. You were a weapon, after all—unrefined, but powerful. Others disagreed. Their voices were sharp with caution, insisting you were too dangerous, too unpredictable, as you had already killed too many.

But then, the conversation shifted. It spiraled—quicker than your still-throbbing head could follow. But you caught enough.

They weren't talking about justice anymore, or even punishment.

A new thread had slithered into the room, it low and quiet at first. A suggestion that made your skin crawl.

"She's female." one of the council members said plainly, studying you with clinical detachment. "And clearly fertile."

Your jaw clenched behind the muzzle.

"She may be human in origin, but her body’s resilience and strength—those are above even standard Viltrumite females." another added. "Breeding with her could produce a hybrid that surpasses us. A child born of her might become the key to furthering our strength."

Disgust curled in your gut.

Breeding.

Shit. They were seriously discussing breeding you.

You could feel the weight of their eyes on your bare form. They weren’t just looking at a criminal anymore. They were evaluating you like a broodmare.

The female Viltrumites didn't object either. One of them tilted her head and added, "Her frame suggests high reproductive capability. The musculature, the hips, her bone density—everything aligns."

You wanted to laugh. To rip the muzzle off your face and tell them to shove their breeding program up to their asses.

But all you could do was breathe. Controlled, but furious.

And yet… somewhere under the heat of that fury, something twisted—a perverted, morbid curiosity coiled in your gut.

Breeding you?

Like you were some kind of baby-making machine.

You were trained to kill. Built for war. A monster, they said—and now suddenly, they were talking about your hips, your womb, your usefulness as if you were nothing more than a vessel. A thing to be filled, broken, used to build their empire from the inside out.

Your stomach turned. The word fertile echoed in your ears like a curse.

What were you now, a walking cradle? A fucking incubator for the Viltrumite legacy?

And worse—part of you wondered. What would it even look like? You, monstrous and wild, collared and panting beneath someone they chose for you. With your body betraying you. Bearing Viltrumite blood. Creating something terrifying. Something worse.

Something like you.

Your eyes narrowed, seething through your lashes.

You weren't going to let them own you.

But gods, the idea wouldn't leave. It curled around your brain like smoke. Sick. Curious. And Violent.

They didn't want to kill you.

They wanted to breed you.

A tall, scarred warrior stepped forward from the group of survivors—his arm still in a sling, a fresh wound slashed across his chest.

"If she is to be contained," he said, "then she must be broken. Handled. Someone will have to... train her."

The word train sent a flicker of rage down your spine.

"She won't yield to just anyone. Most of us tried, and barely survived. But according to the surviving officers…" His eyes narrowed at you. "There was one who managed to fight her back. Who held his ground longer than anyone else."

You stopped moving.

"Mark Grayson." he said.

The silence that followed was loud. Heavy.

"She responded to him. Almost like she enjoyed it." another commented. "We observed it—she was smiling. Laughing. Every time he hit her, she hit harder. She didn't want to kill him. It's almost like she wanted to play."

The crowd murmured again.

"She was having fun, and yet he still managed to injure her. To bring her down."

Mark's hands were clenched at his sides now, his brows furrowed, jaw tight. His silence said more than words could.

"She's a beast." the first speaker said. "But beasts can be trained. And if anyone is going to do it… it has to be him."

General Nolan finally turned slowly to face his son. "Mark."

Mark lifted his eyes, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of conflict in them.

Nolan's voice rang clear, loud enough for all to hear. Cold. Final.

"She's your responsibility now."

"Break her. Tame her. Turn that wild thing into something useful. Think of it as… training a new pet." Nolan sharply commanded.

The word pet hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

And just like that, the decision was made.

You were no longer just a monster.

You were his task. His burden. His possession.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You were moved into Mark Grayson's private quarters two days later.

You were escorted like an animal—your wrists locked in thick cuffs, a black gag secured tightly between your lips, and a gleaming high-tech collar locked around your neck. It pulsed faintly red, a constant reminder of the shocks it could deliver. You had already learned its bite. The plain white prisoner uniform clung to your body neatly but it couldn't hide the tension in your muscles or the defiance in your eyes. Your hair had been washed, but left wild and tangled, like they hadn't cared to do more than rinse you clean.

His father led the procession, flanked by five other Viltrumites. They walked in silence—grim and towering, like they couldn't wait to be rid of you. When the door to Mark's quarters hissed open, they shoved you forward without care. You stumbled, unbalanced, but didn't fall. You landed on your knees before him, like a stray beast dumped at the feet of her new master.

Mark said nothing.

He stood tall in his pristine white Viltrumite uniform, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. His eyes moved over you—your face, the collar, the gag, the subtle twitch in your smile. You could feel his gaze, cold and heavy, like he was judging you.

He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look particularly interested.

But he looked at you like you were his. Like you were already his.

The cage in the corner of the room was built just for you. Reinforced alloy. Thick bars. It wasn't hidden—it was a fixture in the space, something he'd clearly made room for. You were shoved inside it without grace, and the door clanged shut with a low, echoing finality.

His father said a few quiet words before departing with the others. Something about obedience. About control. Mark nodded, silent and cold, never once looking at you again until they were gone.

Only then did he approach the cage.

You were lying inside, already curled on your side like a cat. When he finally turned his gaze to you, you met it with a wink.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression. There was no lust, no hatred—just something… calculating. You could sense the effort it took him to stay composed, to look down at you and not act. You could feel the discomfort behind that stare. And you loved it.

He left you alone after that.

But when he returned hours later, the cage was torn open like it was made of paper. One of the bars was bent backward, and sparks flickered where the internal locking system had fried. You sat lazily in the center of his bed, legs tucked under you, the remains of your uniform hanging from your hips. Your upper body was bare—slick with sweat and blood, lips red from raw meat as you gnawed on something half-cooked

It stained his bedsheets. It stained your fingers.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at you for a long moment.

Then he exhaled slowly and murmured, "I really hoped you'd stay in the cage."

You licked your fingers, then flashed him a lazy grin. "I'm not an animal, Grayson."

He said nothing as he entered, stripping out of his uniform until he was half-naked. He moved toward the small kitchen like you weren't there, calm and composed, even as you followed him with your eyes, your teeth still sunk into the meat in your lap.

"Don't you have anything better to wear? Didn't my father give you something?" he asked over his shoulder.

You stood behind him now, silent, completely naked. You stretched your arms up—slowly, deliberately—exposing yourself without a single shred of shame.

"Ooh, don't like what you see?" you asked, with your voice sickly sweet.

Mark didn't turn around. "You don't get to tease me, pet."

Your smile widened. "That collar says otherwise."

And then—before you could take another step toward him—it sparked. Electricity crackled across your throat in a violent shock. You collapsed to the floor with a hiss, trembling and panting, but still smiling through the pain. He still didn't turn around.

"You're mine." he said flatly. "And pets don't speak without permission."

You lay there twitching on the floor, laughter bubbling from your throat even as your body spasmed.

You were such a problem. A walking mess of temptation and chaos. A feral, sharp-toothed creature he hadn't tamed yet. You stalked around his space like a spoiled cat—shedding blood, climbing on his things, curling up naked where you didn't belong. You didn't eat the rations he gave you. You rejected everything cooked. Mark quickly learned that the only way to keep you fed was raw meat, still dripping. And when he gave in and brought it, you looked at him with gleaming eyes like he was rewarding you.

He hated that. Hated the way you made him feel like he enjoyed your presence. Like he looked forward to your games.

You were always touching his things, brushing against him when he walked past, whispering into his ear when he tried to sleep.

"You're fun when you're pretending not to want me." you whispered one night, your breath warm against his neck. "I was just wondering how long it would take before you finally snapped."

His hand gripped your jaw tight, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed slowly along your collar

"I will break you..." he murmured, voice low and lethal. "And you'll beg me for it."

You met his threat with a wicked smile, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Gods, you were such a naughty thing.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Living with Mark was a war of nerves.

He didn't speak much, not unless he had to. He gave orders, not conversation. Every time he walked into the room, he expected obedience—and every time, you gave him the exact opposite.

He tried to tame you with structure. Routine. Food. Clean quarters. The cage—still bolted to the corner of his room—was meant to remind you that no matter where you roamed, this was still captivity. You were still his.

And yet, you prowled through his space like a cat. A filthy, bloodthirsty little thing with sharp teeth and mischief in her eyes.

You made a game out of pissing him off.

You ripped the sleeves off the black Viltrumite uniform he had ordered for you, claiming they were itchy—then refused to wear anything else. You slept wherever you pleased, most often curled in his bed, stretched across the sheets like you owned them. You dripped blood on his floors from your stolen snacks, purred at him in mockery, and bared your teeth every time he looked too calm. You called him "pretty boy," "master," "hot stuff" and "Grayson," depending on what reaction you were hunting for.

Sometimes, you stood right in front of him, naked and smiling, collar still glowing red.

Sometimes, he didn't say anything.

Sometimes, he did.

And when he did, it was never nice.

Still, you could feel it—beneath all that authority and arrogance, something was cracking. Every time you got under his skin, every time his jaw clenched and his fists curled, you felt it coming closer. That first fight between you hadn't just been survival—it had been ecstasy. Something deep in your corrupted instincts craved the collision again. The pain. The rush. The blood. And the way he had looked at you, panting, bruised, victorious.

You wanted to taste it again.

But Mark had been sent off-world. Called away on a brutal conquest with other Viltrumites. Rumors spread fast—it had been ugly. Ugly and loud. You could practically hear the taunts in his ears, the rage in his fists. You knew how he got when pushed too far.

So you pushed him further.

By the time he returned, there was blood on Viltrum's walls.

You had tried to escape.

You tore through six Viltrumites before they even realized what was happening. Ate one. Injured another so badly they couldn't walk. You laughed the whole time, dripping with gore, half-mad with the thrill of it. You're not actually trying to leave, not really. You just wanted to fight. You wanted to feel alive again.

Once they captured you, they threw you into one of their most heavily guarded prisons. Chained you like the monster they said you were. But not before you left your mark.

So when Mark came home—wounded, furious, soaked in blood and sweat—he didn't go back to his quarters.

He went straight to the prison.

And when the cell door hissed open, there you were. Naked again, legs casually crossed, sitting on the floor like a satisfied beast after a feast, while still wearing your collar like a choker. Your mouth was stained with red. Your arms were chained above your head, but your eyes were calm—glowing with smugness and something else.

You tilted your head. "Welcome home, pretty boy~"

He stepped inside. The door sealed shut behind him with a cold hiss, and he didn't speak. He just stared and his silence was loud.

You didn't lower your gaze. Didn't shift or flinch under the weight of it. You wanted this—you wanted that fire in his eyes, the heat of fury crawling down his spine. You wanted that unhinged thing in him to wake up. To bare its teeth. To bite you back.

You smiled, slow and sharp. "You look like shit."

His jaw tightened. The cuts on his face were still fresh. Blood streaked down the side of his neck, half-dried, and his hands were trembling from self-control.

You cocked your head, chains clinking above you. "What's wrong? Mission didn't go so well? Or are you just mad I had a little fun while you were gone?"

You let out a giggle as he moved closer. Boots echoing off the cold floor. You shifted, legs still crossed, thighs open just enough to tempt.

"You killed six." Mark said, voice laced with coldness, "Injured five more."

You smiled with your teeth. "I was hungry."

His palm cracked across your face before you even finished the sentence.

Your head jerked to the side, the taste of copper blooming on your tongue. You spat, a string of red falling to the floor between your knees, then looked up at him with a smug, bloodstained grin. "There he is…"

He stepped closer. Towering. Trembling with restrained fury.

"You think this is funny?" he snarled.

You laughed, low and taunting. "It's hilarious, actually. They cried so loud. Struggled like babies. You should've seen their faces, pretty boy." Your voice lowered to a mock whisper. "I think you're getting soft on me. Not the same Viltrumite who left me broken on a battlefield."

His eye twitched. His chest rose and fell like he was holding back the urge to throw you through the wall.

"What do you want, huh?" he snapped. "Another beating?"

You cocked your head, smile dripping arrogance. "I want to see you snap. I want the same fire that pinned me down and made me feel alive. You've been boring since you brought me here... there's no fun."

Something shifted in his face—a cold fury, flickering with something darker.

His hands moved.

He simply undid the belt of his white Viltrumite uniform, then let the fabric drop away just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, and mean. Veins tracing the length like dark roads, the head was wet and angry.

You blinked. Frowning, your mouth twisting into a sneer. "Eww, gross—what the fuck do you think I'm gonna do with that!?"

Mark stepped forward, towering over your chained form. His hand wrapped around your collar, tilting your head back roughly.

"Open your mouth."

"Fuck you."

"I swear," he growled, leaning down until his breath scorched your lips, his voice is low and seething, "If you don't open your fucking mouth, I'll tear your jaw open and shove my cock down your throat until you forget how to breathe."

Your eyes narrowed as you watched Mark stand tall before you, his 8.5 to 9-inch cock jutting out, the swollen tip slapping lewdly against your parting lips. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, smell the heady musk of his arousal. His girthy length hovered dangerously close to your face, a silent threat and a promise of what's to come.

You opened your mouth slowly, not out of submission or eagerness, but to bare the sharp, wicked teeth you were so proudly known for. It was a challenge, a silent dare. Your tongue darted out, flicking against the weeping slit of his cockhead in a teasing caress that was barely a touch.

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously as you slowly parted your lips, revealing the glint of your sharp teeth. This was no act of submission, but a silent challenge thrown down between you. "Tuck those fangs away." he growled, his grip in your hair tightening warningsly.

You met his glare with a defiant tilt of your chin, not complying. "Make me." you taunted, your voice dripping with insolence even as his fingers dug into your scalp.

A dark snarl rumbled in Mark's chest. "Brat," he spat. His other hand shot out, gripping your collar possessively. "If I feel even a graze of those little fangs on my cock, I will snap your fucking neck. Got it?"

Before you could react, he pushed it forward, the thick head of his dick forcing your lips apart and stretching them obscenely around his girth. You gasped as he pushed deeper, your throat squeezing around its size. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat, making you gag reflexively.

Mark paused, allowing your throat to adjust to his size. His thumb stroked along your jawline, not a gentle caress, but a dominant, controlling gesture. "Breathe through your nose." he commanded gruffly. "You can take it."

Trapped and stuffed full, your glare was your only remaining weapon. Mark started to move, his thrusts initially slow and deliberate. Each drag of his thick length along your tongue and throat sends jolts of unwanted pleasure through you. As if your body is betraying you, you can feel your cunt pulsing, clenching around nothing as he used your mouth.

His pace increased, fucking your face hard and rough. Wet, filthy sounds of flesh slapping echoed through your cell. Drool and precum mingled, dripping down to your collar and to the floor. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head still as he hilted with each brutal thrust.

He forced you to take his entire length, over and over, balls slapping against your spit-slicked chin. Tears streamed down your face from the relentless face-fucking and lack of oxygen, but he showed no mercy.

Suddenly, with a harsh tug on your hair, he yanked your head back and pulled out abruptly. You gasped desperately, drawing ragged breaths, thick ropes of your saliva was connected to his cock and the head of his dick was an angry red, flushed and leaking, hovering inches from your face.

It was then silent between the two of you, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing filling the tense air. His chest rose and fell, sweat beading at his temples, while you knelt there—lips swollen, throat aching, eyes glassy and unfocused from the brutal rhythm he'd forced on you.

Your head swayed slightly, lightheaded and dazed, the aftershocks of it still buzzing through your body like static. You blinked up at him, not out of defiance this time, but because your mind hadn't caught up yet—too fogged to realize he had pulled out without even cumming.

Mark grasped the metal cuff binding your wrists and, with a simple flex of his superhuman strength, tore it apart like it was nothing more than paper. The sudden release sent you off balance that you collapsed forward with a grunt, catching yourself on your hands and knees in an undignified sprawl. Before you could push yourself up, his fingers hooked under your chin, jerking your head back to meet his gaze.

A slow, mocking smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of your disheveled state. Then, without a word, he grabbed you and with a sharp, effortless motion, hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. The air rushed out of your lungs as your body collided with the hard wall of his chest, muscles shifting beneath you as he began walking out of your cell.

As you attempted to slip free from his hold, one hand gripped your rear possessively, giving it a sharp, punishing slap. The stinging pain radiated through you, a silent warning from him. You bit back a yelp, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

Mark walked down the corridor in heavy silence, his steps echoing ominously as he carried you like a trophy draped over his shoulder. Viltrumite guards paused to stare, their gazes lingering on your bare, used form. You could feel their eyes crawling over your skin, filled with assumptions, judgment, maybe even envy at the power play unfolding in front of them. You shot them a sharp side-glare, though the faint blush dusting your cheeks betrayed the heat pooling beneath your skin.

Without breaking a stride, Mark took off into the air, the force of his flight making the wind whip past your ears. In seconds, you landed hard on the balcony of his private quarters. He barely gave you a moment to react before tossing you onto the bed like you were nothing more than his personal possession. The moment your back hit the mattress, he was already stripping off his bloodied uniform before crawling on top of you, pinning you down with the full weight of his body.

And then his mouth crashed onto yours. It was not gentle or loving but a brutal claiming. His tongue forced its way past your lips to dominate your mouth. He poured all his pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss, one hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as he plundered your mouth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he released your bruised lips, both of you panting harshly. "You've done nothing but push and provoke me—every damn chance you got." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "But now? You're right where I want you."

With one swift motion, he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head in one large, unyielding hand, pressing them into the mattress. His body hovered close, radiating with heat and fury as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "No more games."

Mark shifted his hips, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, already slick with your unwilling arousal. "It's time someone taught you the meaning of obedience." he rasped. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

With a single, brutal thrust, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, dripping cunt. A guttural moan tore from his throat as his aching cock sank into the silken heat of your depths. Your back arched off the bed, a scream of pained pleasure punching from your lungs as you were split open on his massive shaft.

"AAHH~!"

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight..." Mark grunted, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you wide. "This cunt was made for my cock." He rolled his hips, grinding against your cervix, before pulling back and slamming in again.

Each relentless thrust sent lewd, wet sounds bouncing off the walls, your moans rising higher with every slap of skin against skin. His free hand roamed up your body, seizing your breast in a firm grip, fingers digging its softness as he pounded into you without mercy.

"Aah! Aah! Aah! Fuck! Mark! Mark—!"

Mark's mouth found your neck, his lips and teeth teasing over the sensitive skin. He licked and nipped at your racing pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue, almost tenderly. Mark's lips trailed up to your ear as he continued his relentless pace. "That's right. Scream for me." he demanded, voice a guttural rasp. "Let them hear who owns you now." His hand slid from your breast to your throat, fingers wrapping around it possessively, not squeezing, but with the clear threat of doing so.

He pistioned his hips faster, each powerful thrust striking your cervix and sending bolts of white-hot pleasure spiking up your spine. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his plundering cock, slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. The stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards a peak.

Mark panted harshly, sweat dripping down his brow from exertion. "Take my cock. Fucking take it, you whore." His grip on your hair and throat tightened in tandem with his increasingly brutal thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs starting to quake. "No." he growled. "Don't you dare cum without my permission." To emphasize his point, he reached between your bodies and pressed down hard on your clit, pinching the sensitive nub almost cruelly.

"No! No! Aah! I-It's too much! Aah! I can't—AAHH~!" Your back arched, a scream ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cunt spasmed and clenched wildly, milking Mark's hard cock as wave after wave of ecstasy consumed you.

Mark groaned, the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt pushing him closer to his own release. "You think you deserve to come after all the shit you've pulled? You'll be punished for this." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing force as he chased his own pleasure.

With one last, brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside of you. His cock jerked and throbbed as it unleashed it's hot, thick ropes of seed directly into your spasming walls. He filled you with his essence, flooding your empty womb, until you were overflowing.

As the final pulses of your shared climax fades away , Mark collapsed onto you, pinning you into the mattress. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, more passionate and intense than the one before. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes searching yours with a dark, triumphant gleam.

"We're not done yet. You think you get to rest after cumming without permission?" he growled.

Your hazy eyes fluttered open, cheeks flushed deep red. Still breathless, you gave him a small, teasing smile as you slowly dragged your wet tongue across your lips, hungry for more.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The night blurred into a haze of relentless, brutal coupling. Mark's stamina seemed boundless as he took you in every position imaginable, each thrust driving into you with punishing force and precision. The bed creaked and groaned beneath the onslaught, a lewd symphony of carnal lust.

You were drunk on pleasure, drowning in the overwhelming sensations of his body claiming yours over and over. Laughter bubbled from your lips, interspersed with wanton moans and cries of ecstasy. It was a stark contrast to the pain and fury of your first fight; this was a different kind of battle, one where you found yourself surrendering to the enemy's touch.

"Look at you," Mark growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he pounded into you from behind. "Taking my cock like a bitch in heat." His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, fingers sinking into the flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. "Such a good little pet."

He leaned down, teeth finding your ear as his hips snapped forward, striking your cervix dead-on. "You're going to look beautiful, all round and full with my child..." he murmured, voice dripping with dark promise. The filthy words sent a shiver down your spine, even as a traitorous part of you thrilled at the idea.

Your body was a canvas of marks and bruises, each one a testament to his ferocious desire. Your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, the two slick with sweat and come. The obscene squelch of his seed sloshing inside you with each roll of your hips was the only sound louder than your escalating moans.

You lost count of the number of times he filled you, painting your insides white with his release. Your womb was flooded, as your belly starting to swell with the sheer volume of his cum. It looked as if you were already pregnant, the bulge of his seed a perverse parody of new life.

As dawn approached, Mark finally slowed, his thrusts growing less urgent as he chased his final climax. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt, cock jerking and pulsing as he pumped you full once more. He collapsed against your back, crushing you into the mattress with his weight.

After a long moment, he rolled onto his side, spooning you from behind. Mark's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your limp, body flush against his chest. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat that clung to your skin. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed him.

As exhaustion threatened to pull you under into a deep, dreamless slumber, Mark's strong arms encircled you from behind, holding you close against his muscular chest. He curled around your limp body like a lover, one hand possessively splayed across the slight swell of your belly, feeling the way it strained with the heavy load of his seed trapped inside you. A look of dark satisfaction flickered across his chiseled features as he surveyed the results of his relentless claiming.

"Rest now, my love." he whispered against your ear, a tender darkness in his tone. "Close your eyes… because when you wake up, I'm going to make you mine all over again."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ

[amortxt]

⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀toji⠀fushiguro.

ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and toji have an estab relationship + reader is mamaguro. not proof-read so excuse any issues ^_^.

toji had conked out on the couch after promising you and your son a movie night. you have to give him props, he made it through the first 44 minutes and that was honestly a new record. your son giggled as you dragged the sharpie across his face, drawing all sorts of silly things on the man.

"mama, i wanna draw somethin'!" megumi tugged at your top, trying to get your attention. you took him on your lap and he uncapped the bright blue sharpie and went straight for his dads arm.

he drew an assortment of flowers and clouds. a little landscape on his fathers muscles. you couldn't hold it in and just burst out with laughter, megumi following suit.

it was all the more funnier hearing his snores, knowing he was dead asleep whilst his beloved son and wife drew atrocities ( little hearts and sparkles) all over his exposed skin.

"he looks beautiful, mama." megumi looked at you with bright, happy eyes. you took him into an embrace and squeezed him, cuteness aggression flooding you. you squealed and he groaned, and you both fell on top of your husband, successfully waking him up.

you two both looked at him with wide eyes and a dropped mouth. he made a lopsided, tired smile at you as he brought his untouched hand to rub his eyes. megumi made a cheeky smile back at him and you pursed your lips.

toji grumbled and yawned, still tired and just slightly humoured with his wife and son's antics. if only he had known the full picture. (pun intended). "whatcha lookin' at me like that for?"

"nothin' baby. you just look so pretty." the smile that was plastered on your face was incredulous. you couldn't wipe it off. not when your monster-hunk, tough guy of a man had bright sharpie and sparkly glitter all over his face and body. poor guy was probably still too tired to even notice it. you'd almost feel bad.

almost.

megumi could barely hold in his chortle and just let it all out. toji looked at him funny and you shrugged it off. kids. he seemed satisfied with your answer. and you made a loving grin.

you turned off the TV and sent toji off to bed, megumi holding your index finger and dragging you to his bedroom so you could go and tuck him in.

as you were sitting on megumi's bed, he began to chat. "mama.?" "yes sweetie?" "can i draw on you too?"

you looked at him and chewed the inside of your cheek. "uhm.. oh i don't know about that…"

"i do." you turned around you to see the hulking shadow the loomed at the doorway. you stared with eyes that seemed less serious when there was pink marker around them. in his hand he held some other permanent markers. all bright and all glittery. he had a strangely dangerous smirk on his face.

"and you're gettin' it tonight, ma."

⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.

[chiumii]

baby doll ~ sim jaehyun x reader

౨ৎ inspired by this request !! ♡ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ in which jake eats out his virgin girlfriend for the first time and ends up going batshit insane with obsession & possession

word count ; 2.7k

dom! jake x sub! reader . corruption kink , oral , lots of praise , very very slight degrading if u squint , fingering , neck kisses , hickeys , Jake is a little bit of a pervert , not proof read , this kinda sucks oh well

Jake and you have been together for four months , and the two of you have decided to take things slow.

he was so so patient with you- so kind and loving , never has he ever made you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything. he wanted to go at your own pace, even if that meant he had to rub one out after a heated make out session in private once a while.

he was the sweetest boyfriend ever and he loves you so much..

so much he began to slip into insanity

you two have had conversations before, such as establishing a safe word and what kinds of things the two of you were kind of into

which led him to discover that you were in fact a virgin.

ever since you told him that small fact about yourself, he drove himself further into madness.

how on earth were you a virgin?

he thinks to himself on a regular basis. you're too fucking gorgeous.

the thought of having the perfect little girl who has never experienced having sex was phonenomal. he wanted to show you all the different ways he could make you feel good, which positions he could fold you into, he wanted to force perfect whines and moans out of your mouth as he fucked his cock deep inside you for the first time. he wanted to teach you how to suck him off- imagining your round eyes looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full of his length was too much for him to contemplate.

Jake knows its wrong, but when he's snooped through your room a couple times while you were in the shower. he imagined what your naked body looked like when it was wet, how the water droplets would travel inbetween your breasts and thighs- the picture made him unbelievably hard-, he then found himself discovering the awful cute panties that are folded neatly in your underwear drawer that have adorable matching bras. he also discovered a measly pink vibrator tucked away in a box of that underwear drawer, completely dead and his mind began to race.

have you came to the thought of him at all? do you imagine him fucking you as you use the pathetic little toy on your clit?

he couldn't seem to stop his dirty thoughts that began to cloud ever part of his being.

the thought of you wearing one of those adorable pieces of underwear underneath your clothes made him feel all sorts of things. and oh god whenever you would walk around your apartment with just a hoodie on made him wonder if you were wearing one of the cute lacy panties with a black bow stitched in the middle.

here you were, reaching up on your tippy toes to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

and that god damn hoodie of his that you're wearing began to ride up to show the curve of your ass, the lacy underwear peaking out from underneath.

Jake felt himself growing in his jeans just at the sight, you truly had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"come here baby" jakes voice traveled through the apartment. you pop your head out of the kitchen with the biggest smile on your face.

"coming, I was just getting water" you trot into the living room, setting down the glass of water onto the surface of the coffee table. you stand up and look at him, that cute smile on your face still prominent.

his hoodie falls around your mid thigh, the article of clothing completely swallowing your figure and he begins to wonder how you look underneath.

he would love your body regardless of its shape of course, but that doesn't stop the dirty thoughts that form in his skull. every fiber of his being is telling him to rip it off of you and stuff your face into the couch below him and fuck you raw- but he decides on the latter.

"come here doll, let me look at you" your feet patter on the hardwood floors as you walk over to your boyfriend, standing in between his spread legs. his hands find the outsides of your thighs , his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your exposed skin.

"you're so beautiful" his words make a deep blush coat your cheeks. his hands suddenly grip your legs, shifting your body so that you can sit on his lap facing him.

you gasp at his forwardness, but lean into his touch nontheless. your head leans down and your breath fans his face. Jake looks up at you through his eyelashes, admiring your beautiful face that's beet red at his gentle words.

you both lean in for a kiss, your chapstick smearing onto his lips as your mouths move together. your hands move to wrap around his neck, pushing your body into his front.

the kiss quickly began to escalate, your mind was fuzzy, your hands were frantic, and your pussy began to wetten.

his tongue intruded your lips, sliding against yours while his hands moved from your thighs up to your hips underneath the hoodie you were wearing.

his fingers played with the hem of your underwear, a quite whine leaving your throat- to which Jake happily swallowed. your hands moved up to his head, your fingers lacing in his thick locks in order to tug and pull on them.

now it was jakes turn to moan into your mouth, his fingers tightening on your hips as he began to grind his growing bulge into your core.

everything felt hot and overstimulating , your head began to hurt as you quickly pulled off of your boyfriend.

your lips were kiss swollen and your face was red. Jake looked up at you with concern, his hands instantly slipping out of the hoodie in order to cup your cheeks.

"what's wrong my love, are you okay?" you nodded your head trying to catch your breath. your eyes fly closed and your hands grip into his shoulders.

"we don't have to baby doll, lets put on a movie and cudd-"

"I- I want to.." your voice was small, tone laced with embarrassment. jakes eyes widen in shock and he tilts your head to look at him.

"we don't have to if you dont want to , im okay sweetheart I promise" he reassures you , as hes done for the millionth time since the two of you started dating. your eyes open and lock onto his.

"I want to, Jake... I really really do im just- nervous is all.. what if it hurts?" oh my god.

Jake feels his chest tighten and he bites back a smirk, his hands moving down to cup the slope of your waist. he wished you wouldn't have said that, because all he wants to do now is manipulate your body into any position he wishes while he takes away any and all sense of innocence you have in your body.

"how about this baby, I'll eat you out and finger you until you're ready for me, hmm?" jakes eyes darken slightly , you avert your eyes from his with an embarrassing huff.

"what it... what if i.. I dont know.." you stutter over your words, not wanting to finish the stupid sentence.

"big girl words, doll" you sigh again and cover your face with your hands, muttering into your palms

"what if I taste bad" your words are muffled, but Jake can hear them regardless. he takes his big hands and wraps them in his hold, forcing your hands away from your red face as he speaks to you.

"you will not taste bad , I swear... how on earth would you have a bad taste, you are the sweetest girl to ever walk this damn earth" his compliment makes you giggle.

there is absolutely no way you could taste bad and he knows it.

he's smelt your underwear before out of pure curiosity and has never been more obsessed with the idea of eating you out ever since.

before you could protest, hes picking you up into the air. your legs wrap around his waste and your arms tighten around his neck with a squeal.

"Jakeee" you drag out his name with a giggle as he walks over to your room. he sets you on the foot of the bed and you feel even more embarrassment at all your stuffed animals looking at you.

Jake stands inbetween your legs, his hands on your knees in order to keep them apart.

you lay on your back and reach above your head, turning around your stuffed rabbits that rest in front of your pillows before sitting up and facing him.

Jake has to stifle a laugh that threatens to bubble up passed his chest, but one makes it out anyways.

"dont laugh at me.. I dont want them watching" you are too fucking adorable, his heart swells in his chest at your words.

Jake leans downs, his body towering over yours as he brings you into another kiss, this time it's more heated; demanding as his mouth moves against yours rhythmically. your hands move to his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders. you feel his hands at the base of the hoodie. he breaks the kiss with a wet pop, he looks into your lust-filled eyes- a silent plea.

"can... can we keep it on..?" you ask him, and he instantly responds.

"of course baby, anything you want sweetheart" Jake brings one of his hands to press against the mattress behind you before he gently leans you back, your head falling onto the mattress gently.

you feel yourself growing wetter, your clit pulsating in your panties as he kisses you deeply once more. your hands move to his hair- tugging on it once more.

Jake bites your lower lip and you hiss, your hips grind up into the air in a desperate search for friction. he trails his kisses to your neck before sucking down on your skin, leaving the prettiest purple marks that have you arching your back while breathless whimpers drip off your tongue like honey.

Jake detaches from your neck and sinks down to his knees in front of the bed, his face coming down to your clothed pussy. he pushes the hoodie up around your stomach, baring your underwear to him. your face is hot and you worry about how you taste and look, attempting to control your breathing as you lay down on the mattress.

"shh baby, its okay, I got you" his words reassure your overthinking mind. he brings a cold finger up to your clothed clit and presses down, earning himselfa sharp inhale from the perfect woman above.

he rubs his digit in soft circles, coaxing your body to relax.

"j-jake.." you whine as he chuckles. after a moment of concentrated massaging to your clothed clit- he sees a prominent wet patch form on your underwear and he curses at the sight.

without thinking, he pulls your panties to the side and slips his fingers through your wet folds. your back arches and your eyes close at the feeling.

"so wet for me already?" he teases you. your mind is racing - as is your heart while he pulls his fingers away from your heat in order to pull your pretty panties down passed your ankles.

you sit up on your forearms as he places his hands on your knees in order to pull your legs apart.

and the sight of your dripping pussy makes him fall for you all over again. the unholy thoughts that run ramped in his mind are sick, the way he wants to split you in half and fuck you dumb overtakes his thoughts- but he calms them in an instant.

he brings his face closer to your heat so his breath fans your aching pussy. your arousal drips down your ass and onto the sheets before he brings his tongue out in order to lick a stripe up your pussy- making you shudder in your hold.

he does it again, and again, and again- making your breathing rapid and uneven

"so sweet.." he mumbles before wrapping his arms around your legs in order to pull you down onto his face- his lips automatically wrapping around your clit.

your mouth slacks open in a gasp followed by loud moans. his tongue works its magic against you- flicking and sucking around your sensitive bundle of nerves. your hands fist in the sheets, using them as leverage to keep you grounded.

Jake groans into your pussy as he feels your hole clench around nothing- so he brings his middle finger up to your cunt before sliding it inside your tight pussy.

you quite literally suck his finger inside you before clenching around him. Jake lets out a stream of curses into your wet pussy

"fuck.. so tight. such a perfect baby doll falling apart in my hands" you moan at his words, your hips rocking into his face.

the unfamiliar feeling of Jake eating you out makes body feel weak and your mind feel empty- stars beginning to form in the darkness behind your eyelids.

Jakes finger pumps inside your pussy, curling in desperate search for that sweetspot deep inside you- and when he finds it, your back arches even further off the bed as you squeal. he chuckles against you- sending vibrations through your entire body starting at your core.

"found it" you feel tears well up in your eyes, and Jake decides to scrape his teeth gently against your clit- making you hiss at the odd feeling.

"god you're so fucking beautiful, my perfect little angel" his finger repeatedly kisses your cherry-sweet spot, the pleasure overriding your senses as you grab his hair and grind into his face.

"j-jake please.." you have no idea why your begging, but the sound of you moan his name as you come undone in the palm of his hand makes jakes cock rock hard- straining against his jeans and he swears he could come just by eating you out.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his tongue concentrated on your puffy, swollen clit.

an unfamiliar feeling forms in the pit of your stomach, and you begin to feel hot and uncomfortable.

"j-jake i.. feel weird hmm, pl-plea-se" your moans pick up volume and your legs attempt to close around his head, but the grip he has on your thighs is strong and unmoving.

"doing such a good job for me sweet girl, wanna cum angel?" you shake your head frantically, the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash down on you.

"y-yes please" you answer, making Jake pout his lips into you.

"such a good girl, you can cum baby, I got you sweetheart im here" you fall into this hands as the coil in your tummy begins to unravel, your hands come to cover your eyes and your legs begin to shake.

your moans turn into high-pitched mewls and cries

"oh my god Jake!" one of your hands comes down to your side in order to reach for your boyfriend, and he just about breaks down.

you're reaching for him.

you want to hold his hand as eats you out, as you come all over him.

he unwraps his arm from your leg and instantly grips your hand in his, and that pushes you over the edge as your fluids squirt out of your pussy and all over his face- dripping down his chin to stain the sheets below.

Jake gawks at you, his mouth slack open and his eyes wide as you become a puddle

the realization of what just happened hits him;

you just fucking squirted for him.

"fuck- you're so perfect oh my god- such a good girl, pretty girl" as you begin to settle down, Jake pulls his fingers out of you and stands up before leaning down to face you.

he tucks a stray hair behind your ear as he kisses your forehead.

"you did such a good job for me baby doll, so pretty" he compliments.

"I-i was?" Jake nods his head and takes you into his arms.

"yes baby, the best"

[miserycanary]

BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you

tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence

He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you. 

That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night. 

The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you  

What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind. 

Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.

You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not. 

“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you. 

��Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you. 

Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well. 

“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.

Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.

“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”

Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle. 

The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt. 

“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“

You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him. 

God, what has he done? 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[bunnyhugs77]

Driven 2 U

Pairing: Rich! Reader x Mechanic! Jungkook

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: am i back from the dead??

Content Warning: reader is a bit spoiled but she can't help it!, ft manager! yoongi, jk is so whipped, fluff, car troubles, reader is a bad driver, kissing, witty jk, some smut, pining, mentionsn of ex boyfriends, dirty hands, flowers, reader is a bit oblivious, mention of death, jungkook is delusional just like us.

Other Content: making out, late-night rendezvous, choking, semi-public sex, they're both so desperate, marking, soft dom! jk, light hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), cute conversations in between, praise.

The sun beamed down gently between the spaces of the clouds that littered the otherwise bright blue sky. Your Chanel sunglasses framed your face perfectly and your arm rested on the ledge of the window as you steered with the other. The air was sweeter, the flowers were in full bloom and the grass seemed greener.

The world always seemed so much more colourful when you had a hair appointment ahead of you. "I swear this is your third hair appointment this month." Yerin's voice rings through your aux, judgy as always, but you love her for it. She's been your best friend since you could walk, if anyone was gonna call you out it was gonna be her--it could only be her. You didn't listen to anyone else.

Especially not your overprotective dad, who kept nagging you to get your engine checked since that little light kept flashing at you. You didn't see the point. You thought of yourself as a pretty good driver even though all of your passengers often fled the moment you parked, swearing to never get in a car with you again, but they always came back.

"Yeah? What's your point? These roots aren't gonna touch up themselves." Your car began to jolt, "Uhh-" You trailed off, looking down to your dashboard and scanning for a source of the issue, "What?" Yerin asks and you quickly begin to lose speed. \

Turning on your four-ways you begin to pull over on the side of the road, "My engine light is flashing red and there's smoke coming out from my hood, is that bad?" Yerin doesn't say anything, there's silence in the car until she exhales, "You need to take your car to a mechanic like yesterday."

"-But I can't take it to Wheely's, that's where Jae used to take me whenever my car needed work." This time Yerin made sure you could hear her distress with an extra long sigh, "You guys broke up almost 6 months ago, I doubt they remember you. It's not like they'll refuse service because you broke up with one of their customers."

"Okay fine. You're lucky it's close, I'll just drive-" Before your hand could even make contact with the clutch, you're interrupted by a shout, "Do not even think about moving that car, Y/n. You'll completely kill the engine. Just call a tow truck. As a matter of fact, I'll call one for you."

That brings you to where you are right now. The passenger seat of a high-rimmed tow truck with a rugged driver. He seemed miserable to you at first, hooking your car up with a lot of grunts and 'tsks' slipping through clenched teeth until he really looked at you, eyes looking you up then down, taking in your very wealthy attire.

Suddenly small talk and friendly conversation were being made. With a rocky abruption, you bounced in your seat as the truck pulled into the back alley of the shop where there were lots of other damaged cars sitting around.

You thanked him and tipped him one hundred dollars. You clearly had no general comprehension of the value of a dollar, not when it comes to tipping at least.

You stood off to the side of the open garage, against the wall, waiting for the driver to come back after he'd gone inside to notify the mechanics that your car would need to be manually rolled in.

"You're still rolling in this piece of junk, Scooter?" A voice catches your attention two more men walk out of the garage alongside the driver. It seems the driver was known as Scooter around here though you doubt that's his real name.

"Hey, you better watch it, ol'Ruby here may be a bit aged but she's got character." Scooter taps the hood of the rusty pick-up truck while the two men stand in front of him with their arms crossed, one with mint hair and the other with dark locks; both of their backs facing you, yet to notice you were standing there.

"A bit aged? I'm certain Julius Cesar could identify it." The mint-haired man jokes and the brunette laughs while Scooter rolls his eyes.

Scooter waves you over, cueing the two men to look over their shoulders, a bit shocked they hadn't noticed you standing there earlier. "This is Yoongi and Jungkook, they'll be overseeing your repairs." They finally turned and Yoongi hardly got a full glance at you before his gaze was fixated on the man beside him who couldn't look away.

Unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you but you're fairly certain you'd seen them both before. Maybe not for long as you'd only ever been at the mechanics for a few short moments while Jae dropped off your car and switched into his.

Eyes wide and alert, you resembled a deer in headlights, unable to hold the soft gaze that was being sent your way. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," Yoongi reassures while Scooter gets back in his truck and pulls out.

"We need to roll it in, Jungkook and I are going to push from behind the car. Do you mind getting in the front and just steering to make sure to aim for the inside of the garage? Try to get it between the two pylons." Yoongie points into the garage where there are two markers a few meters apart.

Agreeing, you're just about to get back into the front seat when your phone rings. Both men were already in position, strong arms bracing the trunk and hunched over slightly, legs split apart, ready to bear the force back into the ground with each push, but you answered the phone instead.

Yoongi's brow arched while Jungkook just watched you.

"Y/n speaking."

It was your hairdresser, calling to see if you were still on your way as expected. Your heart sunk, you'd nearly forgotten ever since your car committed suicide and then Yerin was yelling at you.

"I'm so sorry- my car broke down and--" The boys listen intently, nosey as always. It wasn't often they had someone so interesting stroll into their quarters in the middle of the week.

"Yes, I know you're very busy and I would never want to waste your time--" You start but she interrupts you again. "No! Please don't put me on the waitlist I'll be there. I'm coming!" Hastily you get into the driver's seat and steer it in with the guys pushing behind you.

You got out nervously panicking, scrolling through all your contacts for someone to give you a ride. "Something wrong?" Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"I have a hair appointment and she'd booked through for the next three months and if I'm not there in the next 15 minutes she's giving my spot away." Jungkook just stood there, while Yoongi worked on elevating the car.

Not a thought behind his eyes at your worries. You were in your own world for that to be your biggest concern but he tried to understand. "Why not get a Lyft?"

"Ew," Your hand clasps over your mouth almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that--or to offend you-" Now Jungkook seemed taken aback, "Why would that offend me?" Your mouth gapes open like a fish before finally shutting.

"I'm just saying, the choice is yours. You can either get a Lyft or call the b-b-bus." He puts on a horrified expression as he chops up the last word to get it through to you. The result on your face was priceless.

"How about you give me a ride? I'll pay you." He stills, straightening his posture while his brows contorted, evidently confused. Even though Yoongi was on the opposite side of the car, crouched down on one knee, he too was confused. That wasn't an option. Jungkook is in full uniform, on the clock.

Does he get ahead of himself sometimes? Yes. The kid's got a big heart but he's not crazy, there's no way he would- "I'll get my keys." Yoongi lets his head fall in disappointment.

Jungkook led you around the back of the building then outside to the lot where he was parked and you turned to him blankly. "Which one is yours?" He unlocks the car as an answer, the headlights flashing at you. Quick on your heels you pivot to face him.

"This is your car?" Your acrylic points to the grey polished, sleek sports car that had the two doors opening on their own. "Not too shabby for the working class, huh?" He quips and you swat at his arm.

"I already said I was sorry about the Lyft thing, will you just let it go already? He snorts at how flustered you're getting, "Already? That was literally 60 seconds ago." You pout and get into the car, avoiding any further conversation.

His car smelled good, like really good. You found yourself taking deeper breaths than usual. It was hard to describe the smell but if you tried you would describe it as a bold yet comforting aroma, it almost reminded you of a man's cologne but mixed with the fresh scent of smoked leather. Sweet but musky.

"Leave some air for me." Jungkook jokes and your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, he pulls out of the lot and heads for the address you gave him. "Just hurry up." You slouch back into the seat hoping the chair would consume you.

"You do realize you're basically in a Lyft right now." Jungkook points out as the ending revs and the car accelerates, cutting up traffic, one hand on the wheel and the other out the window, just like you.

You ignored how attractive his driving was and zeroed in on the topic at hand. "No, this is different. I personally hired you, for the next..." You lean forward to see the GPS and the remaining time to your location, "6 minutes, you're my personal chauffeur." He just had to laugh, all those times he saw you with Jae, he'd always wondered what you'd be like.

He never would've guessed you be so full of...you. But it would be one hell of a lie if he said it didn't add to your appeal. He was no longer in dangerous waters, no no. The moment he accepted your proposition, he'd thrown himself into shark-infested waves with a pressuring current, destined to pull him to the bottom.

Jungkook pulled up to the side of the salon and you hurried got out. "Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it; oh and take care of my car!" You smile from outside the window looking in, about to leave when you reach for your phone and hand it to him.

His heart leaps from his chest. That's it? So easy? He lags for a moment, staring at your arm that was outstretched to him. "So you can tell me when my car is ready."

Oh.

"OH. Yeah. Of course." he enters in his information before handing it back to you, and the sight of your bouncy steps in your high heels and sunglasses is the last he sees of you before he makes his way back to the shop.

-

Walking into the garage he picks up an oil cloth that he knows he'll need soon. Startled, Jungkook's hand grabs his chest as Yoongi pops up from behind the car, the opened trunk shielding him from sight before. Grease-covered hands and stained attire are what he notices before his displeased expression.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't get in the front seat and back this car over you." He threatens, not a smile in sight except for the big one that spreads across Jungkook's apologetic face. "Because I'll work overtime for a week, unpaid."

Yoongi taps the wrench in his palm, thinking about it. "You were on the clock, Jeon. Make it two."

"Deal."

The two round the car to the open hood to get a better look at the engine. "Was it at least worth it? I know you've had your eyes on her since she first came in with that guy like two years ago."

"She's funny and she's beautiful. It's so over for me." Yoongi chuckles, reaching his hand into the hood, and starting the repairs. "Just ask her out, I don't see what the big deal is." He shrugs and Jungkook's head slowly turns, "This could be the love of my life, Yoongi. One wrong move and I lose my one chance, all my greatest dreams and aspirations-" Yoongi playfully closes the hood on Jungkooks fingers to shut him up.

"Alright Shakespeare, now help me get this engine out."

--

A week goes by when you are flipping through a magazine, 'What's the perfect job for you' the letters read and surprise surprise you got a model. You smiled as you placed the magazine back down on the craft services table as the photographer called you over to the center to resume the shoot.

This was for the cover of Serpahine, thankfully you weren't as nervous this time around as you were three years ago when it was your first time.

You'd been in the modelling world for a few years now, you got into it on a whim not expecting to really go anywhere with it, but the people loved you. You were only 19 when you went to your first shoot for a local retail store, fast forward six years and you'd actually driven past a billboard with your face on it this morning.

Once the shoot was done you finally reconnected with your beloved phone and saw there was a message from an unsaved number. "Your car is ready for pick up." Ah, finally.

You were sick of carpooling and hiring drivers this week, all you wanted was to finally get back behind the wheel of your own car.

The evening hadn't escaped you just yet. The sun was still out but slowly setting and casting an orange hue as you got out of the car in front of Wheeley's and dismissed them.

You could already see Jungkook from where you stood outside of the garage. Leant over the hood of another car, sleeves rolled up and tattoos on display. Just when he couldn't get any hotter.

You knocked on the wall, not sure if you could enter. He looks up with a glance before doing an immediate double take and stands to his full height. He welcomes you with a soft smile and gestures you over.

You approached him slowly, the last thing you wanted was to eat shit and land on the greasy floors in front of him.

The closer you got, the more intense his gaze became, "Wow, you look amazing." Jungkook compliments almost speechless. It was like you'd gotten even prettier from the last time he'd seen you.

Instinctively, you play with the chain of your white gold orchid necklace. It was just something you did when you were flattered or shy, in this case, a bit of both.

"Ahem." Neither of you had any idea where Yoongi had come from but he spawned and reminded Jungkook to stay focused before he vanished back into his office.

"Right. So. We assessed the damage to your engine, and the overheating engine caused the gasket to blow, causing the coolant and the oil to start mixing which is very bad." You could tell he was dumbing down the words for you and you had to stop yourself from chewing on your lower lip as he talked.

He's so hot when he talks about cars and stuff. "Are you following?" What? You thought you were doing such a good job of listening. He continued to explain what had been done and import fees and blah blah blah.

You weren't listening to a damn thing he was saying and Jungkook could tell. If he was being honest, he was hardly listening to himself, brain so warped on the fact that this was probably the last time he'd see you for a long time.

He walked you over to the register, "With the coverage you get from guardian auto insurance it reduces your initial price from 2,785.61 to 875.50." You blinked, guardian auto insurance. You had no memory of buying that, which is why you assumed your dad did and thank god for that.

Not that you couldn't afford the initial price but who would want to spend money on boring car stuff when they could go shopping? You paid and then remembered something.

"Here's your tip, for the Lyft." You smile handing him a hundred-dollar bill and he just smiles, not reaching for the money. "Aren't you gonna take it?" He shakes his head. "The car did all the work, all I did was steer. Besides, if I were you, I'd consider putting my money towards a better car."

Your hand falters, and you pout. "What's wrong with my Magma GRT?"

"I hate to say it, but this is the worst car money can buy. I see about three of these every week. For starters, the engineering of it is shit, it makes our job ten times harder. Not to mention it was wired by preschoolers, the batteries are cheap and I can guarantee you, your transmission is gonna blow sometime in the next year."

You stood there, jaw dropped.

"That's not true." You argue, feeling defensive over your sweet baby.

Jungkook guides you over to the hood of the car he had just been working on. "I'll take everything back if you can show me where the engine is."

You stood there for a solid minute, really giving it hard thought. "It's right here." You hold up the middle finger in front of his face before walking away and he laughs taking long strides to catch up to your furious pace.

"Where is my car, anyway?" Jungkook leads you around the back where the completed cars sit with a ticket on the windshield. He watched you excitedly hop into the driver's seat and run your hands over the wheel, then touching the fuzzy orchids that hung from your mirror.

You started it up and she sounded better than ever. You got out and fought the urge to do a little dance but you lost. It was cute, adorable really. "Thank you!" Without even thinking you placed a quick peck on his cheek before you returned to your car, honking at him twice before you sped off.

His fingers lightly grazed the cheek your lips had just met. His vision started to blur, he was about to faint. And then the doom settled in his stomach, you were gone.

--

"Let's take 5 everyone. Y/n, a minute." The head photographer calls you over. "What's going on? You seem out of it, and you can't be out of it. Not until this shoot is done, at least. I've got bills to pay too."

It's been a few weeks since you'd gotten your car fixed but now everything else felt broken. Suddenly a new outfit didn't put a smile on your face, and the buzz you got from a night out at the bar didn't compare to the flames you felt with the few moments you had with that pretty mechanic.

You shake away the thoughts and apologize, reassuring him that you'd get your head back in the game.

--

It's been a month.

He hasn't texted you, which isn't crazy considering you gave him your number for repair purposes only. Though it did make you sad to know he ignored the resource he had to contact you. Then again the phone did work both ways.

You were spiralling, just a tad.

Besides, you didn't want to text him, you needed to see him, but you can't just show up to a mechanic for no reason...

You paced around your room until your gaze landed on your car keys.

You shake your head.

No.

That's crazy.

You grab the keys anyway.

After a quick Google search, you concluded that this evening you would be making an impromptu trip to the gas station. Your tank holds about 30 liters so you pumped it with 35.

Once you got back in the car, just as Google said, your check engine light was on. At least this time it wasn't red.

"Oh no, looks like I've gotta get a check-up."

-

You pulled onto the lot with a mischievous grin, you weren't sure how you were going to pull this off but you had to.

Parking outside the open garage, you locked the car before walking in, looking around for any signs of anyone but it was empty--

"Back so soon?" You turn, face to face with the same face you'd been wanting to see for weeks. "Well yeah, I-"

The loud engine of that familiar tow truck came roaring up the driveway. A loud horn caught your attention. "Come on Jeon, roadside call ain't gonna solve itself!" Scooter shouts and Jungkook visibly gulps, looking between the two of you with a panicked gaze.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Yoongi is in his office, he can help you."

Your shoulders slumped and your pout was prominent. Let this be the first and last time you ever stuck your neck out for a man.

-

A few days had passed when Jungkook sent you the invoice for your repairs. Your eyes analyzed the familiar statement of reduction showing that Guardian Auto Insurance saved you another 600 dollars.

You sighed.

You completed the transaction online and made sure to avoid him at all costs when you picked up your car. Unable to face him after he had blown you off. Even though you know it wasn't intentional, it was still humiliating.

The following weeks may not have been anything special for you but were most certainly eventful for Yerin. "I warned you not to dance on top of that bar." You joke as you walk Yerin out of the emergency room with a slight hangover while she has a cast on her left arm.

After driving her back to her place, not a silent ride at that, even on three different pain killers she was still whining about this curb and that curb, 'watch out for that pedestrian' she would yell as if you didn't have eyes.

"How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow." She sulks, resting her cast on a nearby couch cushion. "I can take you." You offer and she glares, "I guess I wasn't clear. I need to make it in one piece." You rolled your eyes.

"I'll just take my car, driving with one hand can't be that hard." She shrugs.

"It's not, but you're not left-handed. It's a bad idea." You warn but she is more stubborn than you are.

-

It was only around 10 am the following morning when you received a message from Yerin. She attached an image of her car, it looked normal aside from the missing side mirror.

Oh boy.

'I told you so.' You send her and she replies with a middle finger.

'Now it's your turn to go to Wheeley's and make sure to use your guardian auto insurance. Saves a ton.'

She gives you a thumbs up.

Talking about that shop made your mind wander. You wonder how Jungkook was doing. It's been a while since you last saw him. Sometimes you regret not sticking around for him to come back, or even avoiding him to pick up your car.

But maybe this was for the best.

Besides, you were just a customer. One of many. You're sure he's forgotten all about you.

-

Your phone buzzes once, then twice, pulling you out of the realm of peace and tranquillity that your nap had rolled you into. You'd fallen asleep on the couch while reruns of your favourite movie passed by on your screen. "Hello?"

"Guardian Auto Insurance my ass. I was charged $450. I asked Yoongi to double check and he said apparently that doesn't even exist." Slowly sitting up, you try to make sense of it.

How's that possible? If it doesn't exist then who made it up?-

Oh shit.

You quickly finish the call with Yerin, and check the time. The shop would close in about an hour, you had little time to get ready before you made your way there.

Pulling into the driveway so late at night made your headlights seem like spotlights, bouncing off every reflective surface in sight. Catching Jungkook's attention as he wasn't expecting anyone this late at night.

In his fitted jumpsuit, he watched the car pull up closer to the garage, shining the bright light in his face until the engine was shut off. He'd seen this car hundreds of times. He couldn't get his hopes up, but the second your red bottoms hit the concrete his heart was pounding.

You were headed right towards him.

You looked angry- no, upset, no-

"When were you gonna tell me that there's really no Guardian Auto Insurance and that you've been covering 80% of my costs out of your own pocket?" You definitely sounded angry but your gaze seemed... soft.

You stopped right in front of him, face to face. Your breathing was heavy and your brows furrowed as your eyes danced between both of his deep brown, apologetic ones. "I-"

"Just shut up." Grabbing a gentle hold of his cheeks in your hands, you pulled his lips down to meet yours. It took Jungkook a second to process what was going on but once his brain caught up, so did his hands.

He held you securely at the waist, tugging you into him until your front was against his and he worked his tongue with yours. Your heads tilted slightly to deepen the kiss.

You always knew he'd be a great kisser, but this was taking your breath away. Literally. You pulled away from him, lungs reaching for a much-needed dose of oxygen while Jungkook did the same. His gaze was much darker.

"You and this stupid uniform. I want to finally see what's underneath-" Reaching for his buttons, you're able to get the first four undone with a few stray kisses to his neck that send Jungkook absolutely reeling. A soft moan escapes him before he pulls back.

"Wait. Wait, I have something for you." He disappears into one of the offices before coming back with a bouquet of orchids. Your gasp is genuine.

"Yoongi said a friend of yours was in the shop earlier and I'd already been thinking about you non-stop so I just took it as a sign to reach out. I was actually going to bring these to you later once the shop closed. I noticed you had orchids on your necklace and in your car so I just thought you'd like them." You give them a sniff. "I love them. They were actually my mom's favourite flower before she passed."

He frowns, "I'm sorry to hear that," you give him a sad smile, "Thank you, it means a lot. Really. But we can talk about that later," You place the flowers behind you on the trunk of the car. Jungkook grins.

"You're very direct aren't you." You shrug. "You'll get used to it."

He walks up to you, looking down at you with the six inches his head carried over yours. "Oh, will I?" You nod with unwavering confidence. "Unless you can't handle it-" A big, gentle hand is placed around your neck, no pressure applied until he speaks, "I'm not the one who needs to be worried about."

With that said he slowly sinks himself to his knees, big hands reaching under your ruffled skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You gasp as you feel him slowly drag a finger along the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Please, Jungkook." The harmonious sound of you begging rattled him to his core. With no self-restraint, he would do anything you asked. "Don't worry princess, I've got you. Gonna take good care of you." he pulls down the only thing keeping him from your soaked cunt and a low growl rumbles in his chest at the sight.

He helps you to step out of your panties with your heels still on, he couldn't let your bare feet touch the floors. You open your hand for the garment but you roll your eyes at the sight of him pocketing them in his uniform. You already know you'll never see them again and you accept it.

He has you bunch up your skirt around your waist for better sight. Smoothly he places one leg over his shoulder while your body rests against the trunk of the car. The grip he holds on your left thigh is tight enough to make your brain spin and surely marks will follow.

"See. I always knew I'd have you on your knees for me one d-AY. Oh fuck!" Jungkook can't be bothered to bark back at you not when he has an insatiable appetite and a full meal right in front of him.

His jaw worked itself as he lapped up at your center. Tongue long and warm, licking every square inch of you until you couldn't take it, hands reaching desperately for his hair and he groaned.

Once he finally had you where he wanted you, reduced to nothing but begs and whimpers, he allowed his tongue to flick over your clit repeatedly, until he felt half of your body weight fall onto his right shoulder for a moment.

You could hardly even keep yourself up. He was going to make sure you remembered this. "Oh shit! P-please Jungkook. M'So close." He groans, his right hand pressing down on the solid bulge in his pants for a little relief.

Your slick was running down his chin, some even down the sides of his neck as he worked you with his tongue. Writhing nonstop, though this wouldn't be an issue if he had a better environment. He'd have you pinned and unable to run from him.

To finish you off he let his teeth graze so lightly over your clit, you almost wouldn't feel it had he not heightened your senses to such an extreme with his intricate pussy eating.

You came with his name falling off your lips.

Your face turns beet red as he tells you to look down at the mess you made on the ground below you. "What were you saying earlier? Something about me being on my knees for you-"

"Just fuck me already." Jungkook stands back up to his full height, clicking his tongue with tsk' sounds. "I pay for your repairs, I buy you flowers, I make you cum and this is how you talk to me? Where are your manners." Jungkook adjusts your skirt so it's back in place and he picks you up to sit on the trunk.

"Besides. I'm not fucking you in here. I wanna take you out first." You smile at that, "Finally, a smile." He remarks, and your body limps forward naturally, your arms wrapping around his neck while your head settles in the crook of his neck and your eyes flutter shut. You ignore his previous statement until he whispers in your ears. "You do realize the garage was open this whole time, and anyone who drove by got a front-row show?" Your eyes shoot open.

[toxicanonymity]

The Stitch

PAIR: THOMAS HEWITT X READER

WORD COUNT: 3.6k | THE SPREAD UNIVERSE one shot

SUMMARY: A stranger tries to get into the shed. You help Tommy when he's hurt and... hungry, then sit in his lap.

WARNINGS: 18+ Smut*, stockholm syndrome, violence off screen, blood, giving stitches, hand kink, light angst & dark fluff. *oral, squirting, captivity dubcon, unsafe cockwarming-adjacent piv, creampie. Feral/soft Tommy, leather muzzle.

SIZE KINK: Tommy is a strong, hefty 6'5", reader much smaller.

Ty for your enthusiasm for this fic! Ty @dark-scape for title help and @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the ⛓️ divider. 🖤

It was dusk when you spotted a man prowling around, then you ducked away from the shed’s clouded window and pretended not to see. Time crawled by–-you didn’t know how much–-as you sat frozen, afraid of making any noise at all. The wind howled, and twigs snapped in the woods behind the shed. You would’ve felt safer with Tommy nearby, but he must have been dead asleep after his family worked him hard all day.

You finally let yourself relax enough to fall asleep, only for chains to rattle on the outside of the shed. 

“C’mon,” the stranger pleaded to himself, then whisper-shouted into the distance, “hurry up, Ronnie!” followed by a startled “oh shit.”

You recognized Tommy's footsteps as he lumbered across the yard.

Huddled in the corner of the shed, you held your breath and listened to the ruckus just outside. You were pulling for your captor. He had committed violent acts, but he didn't seem like a violent man at heart. You felt sure he wouldn’t hurt you… even though he already had. 

Arms wrapped around your knees, you pulled your hands into your oversized sleeves and gripped the fabric with your fists.

“Get outta here, freak!” the man yelled. 

Tommy grunted. 

“Ronnie!” the man pleaded to his friend who was nowhere in sight. Then he warned Tommy, “Don’t do it man. My buddy’s got a gun.” 

Tommy’s grunt sounded almost like a laugh. 

“There’s more of us too,” the trespasser claimed, then muttered, “shit.” 

Shoes scraped against dirt. The shed door shook with an impact, and chains rattled. The man coughed and tried to vocalize. His shoes thumped and slid against the wood, with his feet unable to reach the ground. Tommy held him by the neck with just one hand. The struggle continued. 

The man went quiet, and Tommy grumbled indistinctly. 

Dead weight hit the ground. 

There was shuffling, dragging, and a few seconds later, the wet thwack of sharp metal through bone.  

-

Tommy caught his breath, then came around toward your window. His massive shadow was just visible enough in the dark to make his presence known. He tapped the glass with one knuckle, then you approached and lifted the curtain. 

He had an ax slung over his shoulder.

He braced his other hand on the shed, to the side of the window. Then, he stopped down to rest his forehead gently against the glass. Below his half-muzzle, his breath fogged the window and his chest heaved. The glass was cloudy, but you still felt his eye contact. You looked at each other, then he pulled back, leaving a smear high on the glass where his forehead had been. He gave you a nod that felt like a promise—he’d come back.

When you peeked out the window again, Tommy was walking toward the main house with the man’s body slung over his shoulder. The head and arms hung limply over Tommy’s back. The guy’s head was dripping into the dirt. In Tommy’s other hand, he held his ax, letting it hang by his side in a loose grip. He was unbothered by the prospect of another man to fight. 

You sat in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, trying to calm yourself enough to get to sleep. Eventually, you heard Tommy on his way back. 

After unlocking the shed and ducking inside, he lit a lantern. The warm light flickered on, just bright enough to see dark splatter on his shirt and neck. His hair was matted dark. A thick path of blood oozed down the side of his face. He looked you over and took a seat against the adjacent wall.

For a minute, he simply breathed and watched you. 

You watched him, too. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. The trickle down his face hadn’t stopped. It must have been his own blood. 

“You’re bleeding,” you observed.

You started to move toward him, but he lunged forward before you could get up. Even on his knees, he was a looming presence.

“Can I see?” You asked, and brought a hand out of the blanket, squinting to find the source of the blood. 

Before you could touch him, he scooped you up in his arms for a swift exit, shaking the shed with each step. After ducking through the door, you expected him to put you in the wheelbarrow. Instead, he stood up and adjusted your weight so you were held flush against him, hugging his apron. He made sure you were covered by the blanket. You couldn't wrap your legs around him–he was too big, but you trusted him not to drop you. The soft padding of his torso was warm and comforting as he took long strides toward the house.

Tommy’s footsteps clopped under you in the garage. He slowed down, then stopped in front of a piece of furniture and leaned forward. He took a hand off your back. You tightened your limbs around him as best you could while he pushed some things out of the way, clearing a space for you. Then he sat you down on a smooth wood surface and uncovered your head. He reached up toward the ceiling and pulled a chain. A dim light buzzed on. You were seated on a desk, with all sorts of scraps and junk scattered around. 

Tommy took off his apron and he sat down in a chair, facing you. He reached across the desk and slid a tin box toward himself.  When he opened the tin, it looked like sewing supplies. His fingers were so enormous, you couldn't imagine how he sewed anything, but he handled the box with care and familiarity. 

It was his. This was his place. His craft. 

He turned the tin toward you so you could get what you needed. Meanwhile, he reached for an old glass bottle with an inch of clear liquid in it, and he used every drop to wet a rag. He held the cloth to his head. 

Okay, not his first time. 

You held up a needle. “It’s dirty.”

Tommy shook his head no. Okay, it didn’t look dirty, but it sure wasn’t sterile, and for some reason, you wanted him to be okay. 

“It could get infected.” 

His eyes shifted around in thought, then he looked back to you for the answer. 

“Do you have any matches? Fire?”

He placed his thick, wide hands on your thighs as he stood up. He squeezed them lightly and checked your face for whether you might run. Then he went over to a workbench that was against the wall. 

As he rummaged around, your eyes wandered. The space was cluttered and stuck in another era. There were doll parts strewn around. A softball-sized, hollow head with no hair and  a painted-on face chipping off.  There were tools. So many tools. Cleavers and saws hanging from the ceiling by chains. Too high for anyone but Tommy to reach them. 

He returned with a rusted zippo lighter and flicked it open as he sat down. You held the needle to the flame and he held the lighter steady for you, with the casual intimacy of a stranger lighting your cigarette. In the glow of the flame, he watched your face. 

When the needle was ready, you looked at the thread. You unwound the spool long enough to reach some unexposed thread.

Tommy watched patiently, never making you feel rushed or scrutinized. 

With the needle threaded, you announced, “okay. It’ll hurt, but not too bad.” 

He gave a short nod with a squint that bore the hint of a smile. 

-

"Little closer," you whispered, never speaking at full volume with him. 

He spread your knees, making your heart skip a beat. He settled in between them, leaned forward, and his elbows bracketed your thighs.

His face was close. His eyes were blue with lines of gray darting out from the pupils. His eyelashes were dark and thick.  Your heart skipped a beat as his face moved closer, thinking for a split second that he might kiss you, but he dipped his head to offer you his injury. 

"Good," you encouraged him.   

His sweat wafted into your nostrils, and just as you felt heat rising to your face, his hands curved around your bottom. Arousal buzzed in your gut, so loud you had to pause and compose yourself. “Ready?”

He nodded his head forward. 

You needed to adjust the angle of his head so you could comfortably work on it, and when your fingers grazed the side of his muzzle he flinched. 

Your hand pulled back, but then he held it. As he placed your hand back on his cheek, the sight of his giant paw holding yours made a butterfly float through your chest. 

You wet your lips, then bit your lip and saw him glance toward your mouth.  

Bracing one palm to the side of the wound, you held the skin shut. You rested the needle point against his skin, then pushed and dragged the thread through it. He didn’t react. He watched your face in silence as you patched him up, thread by thread. Not a single puncture made him move his head.

You could feel his appreciation in the way his hands gently cradled you. He looked at you with a soft fascination.

Was this the first time someone helped him like this? It was easy to imagine why, but somewhere in this monster, there was a little boy. Did anyone ever take care of that boy? Tuck him in? Walk him to the bus stop for school? No, surely not. He hadn’t ever said a word to you, but he told you so much. His eyes told you. The way he moved. The way he never spoke, and hung his head as the others barked orders at him.

—

When you were about halfway done stitching him up, he began to sniff the air, and it made you realize how turned on you were. With your legs spread and no panties under the shirt-dress, you had to be leaking onto the desk. 

Tommy sniffed and growled, and maybe his primal sounds shouldn't have hit the way they always did, but your core tingled. You felt exposed with your legs spread around him. He sniffed again, and your face was hot with why. 

–

You tied off the threas and whispered, “Good, Tommy." You blotted the area with the wet rag.

Tommy reached for his face to touch the stitches, and your hand stopped his: “no."

Your hand lingered, with your fingers wrapped around the heel of his palm. You wanted to hug him, have your body against his again, which made your mind jump back to the way he carried you there. In that moment, something clicked, and your throat tightened. No one but him had ever handled you in that particular way—big arms wrapped around you like you were too precious to lose. He did his best to make you comfortable. So what if you were his possession? It felt like you were his world. Maybe no one ever cared as much as Tommy Hewitt cared about keeping you. 

Your vision got cloudy, and Tommy’s eyes narrowed. Once you blinked, a fat tear pushed through your lashes. Before it could run down your cheek, his thumb was there to collect it. Then he put your tear just below his eye. It slid down to his muzzle in a tiny trickle that left a clean path through the grime. 

You smiled and whispered, “It’s okay.” 

His gaze fell down your body, and his eyes darkened. The corners of his mouth glistened in the shadow of his muzzle. He took your chin in his hand and took a deep breath. 

-

Tommy reached behind you and urgently cleared the whole desk. Then he put his hand on your chest and pushed you down flat on your back.  Your feet dangled off the edge, but not for long. He bent forward, lifted your knees, and soon had your legs over his shoulders with your ass in the air, held up by his massive hands. With your sex exposed so close to his face, Tommy growled. Your upper back remained flat on the surface. 

With his elbows braced on the desk, he held you with your cunt at his mouth. His breath was warm. With his mouth ever closer, he began to drool. His breath was heavy and full of desire.  

You let out a little moan, and with that, he attacked you like his first meal in ages. Holding you like a juicy burger, he fed himself your cunt. There was no ceremony in the first touch, he simply dug in, licking right up the center, then sucking at the apex. He ate you with a hunger that was felt in every push of his lips and heard in every breath through his nose. He used his face to spread your lower lips apart, wedging his mouth into your heat like it belonged there. 

He ate with abandon, licking and planting his lips and sucking. Collecting every drop he could from each secret little ruffle of your body, scavenging each surface for more to consume. The firmness of his lips, the rhythmic suction, and the strong lap of his tongue had pleasure building in your gut.  His hands continued to hold up your hips, thumbs digging into your asscheeks. His grip kept you firmly at his mouth with your thighs hugging his cheeks. With his mouth latched fully onto you, it was a vision you could never forget. God, it felt good. 

He couldn’t have known it, but he’d found the perfect angle, bridging your hips for you, with his elbows planted on the desk. He feasted selfishly, and his ravenous work had your body churning out more and more arousal for him to slurp up. 

He refused to come up for air, his nose instead taking ragged breaths. He paused only to adjust the muzzle, nudging it against you thigh. Then, the smooth leather nudged your slick clit as his tongue plunged into you. His eyes closed as he licked upward, massaging your front wall with his hunger. Your eyes fluttered closed. His tongue was so strong and thick, he really fucked you with it, filled your wet little hole with it.

Each slide of his tongue against your spongy spot made you lose a little more control. Soon, it felt like you were going to pee. 

“Tommy,” you warned him. 

He only fucked you harder with his tongue. 

“Tommy,” you whined, “I’m gonna—please—I—Ohhh” 

Tommy’s response was to growl and pull you closer, harder against his mouth.

At least there were no bedsheets, no decorum, and no expectations from him. He nudged that spot again, you let go. Your release began, pulsing through you, and he moaned as it filled his mouth. His mouth was so large, and he was so thirsty, there was barely any overflow. You rode that high and he drank every drop. You sighed when you were finished. His pace slowed, and his eyelids drooped. 

-

Satisfied with his meal, he let your ass back down on the table and ducked out from under your legs. He turned his head to fix his muzzle in case his feeding frenzy had exposed the center of his face. When he turned toward you again, you sat up on your elbows. 

Tommy's eyes panned over you as he palmed himself under the desk. His muzzle was shiny with you, and so were his lips. His pupils were dilated. He caught you watching the motion of his arm, and his face blotched pinker.

"It's normal," you reassured him. "It's normal to get hard from doing that." 

What were you saying?

What were you asking for?

A swell of shame washed through your chest, but it didn’t change what you wanted. 

Tommy looked at you, unsure. 

You nodded. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

–

He grabbed you by your (his) shirt and pulled you upright. Then he ripped the shirt open, sending two buttons flying. 

When you looked down, your chest expanded with desire at the sight of the massive log straining his pants. He squeezed the outline and you nodded reassuringly. A wet spot was growing.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you looked at the gift in his pants. Your thighs were still spread wide. Tommy looked between your legs, then down at himself. Then in a flurry he unbuttoned and shoved his pants down, reaching into his underwear at the same time to help free his massive cock. Your knees twitched with the urge to sit on it. 

And sure enough, he grabbed your ass, pulling you off the edge of the desk and into his lap in one swift motion, which made his stiff cock slap heavily against your pussy. He quickly jostled it into place at your entrance and moaned when your wet heat covered the tip of his cock. Between his precum, your slick, and his slobber all over your cunt, the stiff log prodding at your hole was well-lubed. 

Tommy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down, making his girth divide your soft, warm walls. His cock claimed every inch of your cunt and then more, as your body relaxed and opened with arousal. He was impossibly stiff. It must have been painfully hard in his pants. Slowed by his girth and stopped by his length, you came to a rest as far down his shaft as you could, far enough to meet the cushion of his bush.  His swollen shaft throbbed, and he let out a contented sigh.

He held your waist, and you were prepared to be used as a fucksleeve, but he hesitated. Instead of jerking himself off with you, his hands loosened and slid under your open dress shirt. His two palms rested warmly on your back, together covering a significant portion of your skin. You closed your eyes and bent forward, curving your torso snugly against the swell of his midsection. As you laid your head on his chest, your hips shifted and his throat rumbled with a twitch of his dick.  His heart thumped against your cheek. 

You moved your hips again, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Another twitch of his cock made your walls spasm, and you let out a little moan. He pulled you closer and inhaled the scent of your hair, then lifted you ever so slightly against him before  sinking fully into your tight, wet cunt again. 

He shifted you in small motions, letting out lazy grunts and shuddering when you squeezed him in just the right way. This was perfect for how tired he was. 

You rolled your hips cautiously, curious how long he could wait before ravishing you.  He seemed to enjoy this new way of experiencing you. And God did you love it, too — stuffed full of his cock, with your tits and tummy pressed against him. 

“This is nice,” you whispered.

His lap lifted, and you sighed, “God, Tommy.” 

His breathing stuttered. His fingers twitched, pressing against your back. His dick throbbed and seemed to occupy even more of you.

His breathing sped up. You just barely rocked yourself, and observed his quiet loss of control until he groaned and throbbed so powerfully it made your whole body tighten. He held his breath as his balls spasmed, then he sighed with his hot load throbbing into you. With his seed pumping into you, he used a hand on your ass to pull you even tighter against him.

The pressure of his heft against your front sent you to the stars. You turned your head with your mouth against his chest and whined into his shirt as you came on his cock, making him shudder. While you came, he held your head to his chest. His stomach heaved under you, as you both finished your release.  

–-

You stayed impaled on him, and after a minute, you felt him tense. You lifted your head to look at him, and could see he was self-conscious. 

With his hands on your waist, he lifted you off his dick. Your pussy tried to hang on, but the last of his dick slid out, leaving you empty as he put you down on the desk, leaking his cum onto the wood. 

He stood up and turned away for a moment to put his dick back in his pants. 

He looked you over, and held both sides of your unbuttoned shirt-dress. He ran a thumb over the threads where he had ripped the buttons, and he grumbled quietly in dissatisfaction. He retrieved the sewing tin, scooting it closer again, then he pushed the shirt off your shoulders. He wrapped you in the blanket, then sat back down. 

He pulled you into his lap, having you sit on his thigh to make space on the desk. You sat in his lap while he went to work. He got out a needle and thread, and began to select a button, then paused. He looked at you, then back at the buttons, and slid the tin toward you with a nod. You picked out two different shades of blue. 

He reached his arms around you to work on the shirt, and you watched his hands as he sewed them on. It was amazing to see how nimble his fat fingers could be. How studious he was with his work, and how well he sewed them on. 

When he was finished, he scooted the chair back and you stood up off his lap. He gently took the blanket off you and dressed you in the shirt again. He admired the way you looked in his shirt, then picked you up to carry you back to the shed. Before he covered you with the blanket, you looked at his wound. 

“You have to keep that clean, okay?” 

He nodded once. 

“Do you have a shower? Bath?” you asked.

He grunted with a nod. You thought you’d smelled soap on him before and wondered what he'd look like fresh and clean.

-

Back in the shed, he tucked you in and sat next to you as you grew sleepier. It was easier to fall asleep with him by your side. 

-

-

-

-----------------------

Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate all your comments and reblogs on the first two. 🖤 Your enthusiasm goes a long way.

You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications to see when I've posted new fics.

[valeriapryanikova]

ominous

(itsy-bitsy fanfic concept/idea/? under the cut)

[A page ripped out of a journal; the owner’s handwriting is messy and barely legible.] 

february, 29th

i'm surprised i'm not dead now.

yesterday, in the late evening, as i was painting, it started storming. suddenly and hard. one second the dark sky is clear from any clouds, and the next moment the droplets are pelting me with a surprising force. i rapidly abandoned my easel and canvas (not like there would be anything lost—the piece was dull and not working out the way i desired) in favor of seeking cover.

i was still near the village, on its outskirts, but just a bit too far from my house to reach it quickly before my whole being was drenched through and through. so i ducked into one of the huts, all of which stand empty, desolate… or so i thought, at least.

only once inside did i spot the dim, ominous, red glow of the overhead lamp; the sound of a muted conversation; the overwhelming sense of “wrong”, like i was not meant to be here. abruptly silence fell and two sets of bright eyes stared me down.

terror froze my body. i felt like a prey caught in between two predators, i could practically feel their jaws snapping around my neck.

the dredger slowly smirked at me, barring her sharp, sharp teeth. (since when are they sharp? i may not have crossed path with her often, but i swear i would’ve noticed if she had shark teeth before.) i did not stay to see if the fisherman would further react to my presence too. the control of my body returned, allowing me to let out a panicked apology for interruption and bolt out of the hut, running home at full speed.

it’s been hours since then. i couldn’t fall asleep. i’ve been up the whole night, haunted by fear. the scene of those two beasts in the darkness, ready to snap me like a twig for overhearing something (i don’t remember what exactly, all the horror of the situation evaporated all my thoughts), got stuck in my mind’s eyes. so i’ve been doing what i know how to do best—painting.

[Attached to the diary entry is a typewritten note.] 

That painter fellow is an impressionable and imaginative type. Needless to say, the actual interaction with the two fish merchants was likely a lot less… Dramatic.

The painter was reluctant to show me the painting mentioned in the last paragraph, but after some convincing I did manage to take a quick look on their recollection of the witnessed scene: it seems mostly useless for my research, but I noted down some details that might be of use in the future (refer to “AudioLog#143” transcript for more information).

Collecting data on “The Fisherman” continues to prove itself annoying. The subject is allusive: there’s not many sources mentioning him, and folk around here rarely witness him out and about. Currently the only lead I have is finding that one old newspaper article about the docks that, if I recall correctly, mentions him in an interview with workers. Perhaps, when I have time, I’ll try asking the collector from the other side of the river if he has a copy of that newspaper issue.

However, for now, I’m significantly more interested in “The Dredger” subject. There’s more than plenty info about her—I would actually say there’s too much info about her, all inconveniently inconsistent. In an attempt to get more reliable data I’m getting in contact with Mined since they have done scientific observation of this area and the people of interest. My request for access to their data has gone unanswered so far and, if shoving my anthropology degree in the faces of those bumbling idiots won’t work, I’m sure that that city nearby has enough hackers willing to do some dirty work for a pretty diamond.

I will get the data I want, one way or another.

[horchatakoo]

IN HIS MERCY | JUNGKOOK FF

description: who would have thought that you, the queen bee of the school, would be a crying mess beneath the very boy you bullied?

It’s not your fault he fucks you too good… right?

genre/themes: yandere jk x queen bee y/n, manipulation, blackmailing, big dick jk, dom jk, mean jk, smut cause grahhh, cumming inside

part 2

The midday sun beats down relentlessly on the back of the school building, where Jungkook sits on one of the chairs randomly piled in the corner. It’s already lunchtime, and most students are flocking to the cafeteria, making this quiet spot a rare solace for his clouded mind. A few birds chirp in one of the tall trees, and as he looks up, the sunlight grazes his golden-tanned skin.

The scene was beautiful and calming... but that peace was shattered when a group of ‘jerks’ barged in, disrupting his solace.

"Hey! Look who's here... the weird kid from the back of the class. Thought you could escape us today, huh?" Jaehyun, a student from the legal department and one of the so-called "cool" kids, sneered, making his friends burst into laughter.

Honestly, he doesn’t really know why Jaehyun and his minions enjoy picking on him… or maybe he does. He’s pretty sure it’s because Jaehyun couldn’t stand coming second in the student rankings—right after Jungkook, the quiet kid in the back who always looks half-dead in his hoodie. Jaehyun, who thinks so highly of himself, just couldn’t accept that a so-called lowlife nerd had beaten him at something.

Jungkook only sighed, thinking this whole act was pathetic as fuck. He didn’t bother to respond and was just about to leave when Jaehyun suddenly grabbed the collar of his gray hoodie.

“What now, huh? Can’t even respond to me?! Did you study so hard you forgot how to talk?”

"Look, man… I don’t want any trou—" Before he could even finish his sentence, a punch landed on his face. The blow was so sudden that he lost his balance. Jaehyun’s minions wasted no time, rushing in to kick him in the stomach.

He could have fought back, could have turned this into a full-blown fistfight—but he chose not to. Not because he couldn’t, but because his parents had already warned him that this would be the last time they’d put up with his bullshit… especially after what happened at his previous school.

Instead, he only crouched in pain, waiting for them to stop. In his mind, he knew he could have his revenge someday—but for now, he had to play along, had to keep up the act.

After a couple of minutes, Jaehyun’s minions finally stopped kicking him, leaving him lying there. Jungkook thought they were done, that they had left—until he felt something spill on him. A cold liquid seeped into his hoodie, followed by the sound of giggling.

Min Y/N.

The fucking Min Y/N had just dumped a chocolate drink on him while giggling in Jaehyun’s arms.

"That’s what you get for messing with the wrong people," she sneered.

Jungkook hated the bitch so much. She was always clinging to Jaehyun’s arm, giggling like she was innocent—typical spoiled rich brat behavior. A queen bee who thought everything would always go her way.

Too bad… she was literally Jungkook’s type if not for her bitchy attitude.

"Hahaha… let’s get going, babe," Jaehyun said to Y/N, pride evident in his voice over what his girl had just done.

At last, their stupid group was finally gone, leaving Jungkook alone. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the pavement, sighing as he glanced down at his now stained hoodie.

A tsk left his mouth. "That fucking bitch… this is literally Calvin Klein."

───●◎●───

Have you gotten their information?”

"Uhh… Yes, sir. But won’t your parents be mad?" Mr. Lee, the butler of the Jeon estate, asked hesitantly as he handed over the file Jungkook had requested.

"It’s not like they’re gonna find out. Unless… you’re planning to tell them?" Jungkook replied, his voice carrying a subtle threat as his sharp gaze locked onto Mr. Lee.

The poor butler swallowed hard, nerves creeping up his spine. He knew his master wasn’t right in the head—there was definitely something wrong with him. But there was nothing he, nor even Jungkook’s parents, could do. After all, he was the only son and heir of the Jeon family.

"Of course not, master. My loyalty stays with you."

"Maybe a few beatings would do? Or perhaps turning Jaehyun’s face into a bloody mess would be the right move. What do you think, Mr. Lee?" he asked with a bright smile, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation—like he was simply ordering food online.

As expected, Jaehyun came from a well-off family. His so-called minions? Just commoners desperate to stay in his good graces.

And you?

Heck, you’re even poorer than some of Jaehyun’s minions!

A burst of laughter escaped Jungkook’s lips, uncontrollable and almost manic, as he processed his new discovery. His desire to beat Jaehyun to a pulp was momentarily forgotten—because now, his attention was on you.

The so-called queen bee.

The prettiest yet meanest of them all. Always draped in designer brands, always acting untouchable.

And yet… a complete FRAUD.

"So this is the queen bee, huh”

───●◎●───

A day had passed since Jungkook’s discovery, and from that moment on, he wasted no time crafting the perfect plan. A plan for revenge. A plan to make them pay.

But first… maybe he could use you.

After all, you were his type.

The thought alone sent a thrill through him—your pretty lips wrapped around cock, the same lips that had probably kissed Jaehyun.

His jaw clenched, arousal and satisfaction intertwining at the idea. Not only would he have you, but it would also be the perfect way to get under Jaehyun’s nerve. And It’s much better than just ruining his face.

Like every other day, you walk your usual route home, completely unaware that the devil himself is following your every step. The streets are quiet, the dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminating your path. You arrive at the small, rundown house tucked away across the street, pushing open the rusty gate that screeches louder than you’d like.

It has been a long, exhausting day, and all you want is to go inside and rest.

But then—

"Oh… look who I found here."

A chill runs down your spine at the familiar voice.

You turn, heart pounding, and there he is…

Your lips part, but only a breathy, stunned whisper escapes. "Ju-Jungkook…"

How? Why is he here?

You wanted to ask those questions, yet your body refuses to move, frozen under his unwavering gaze. His smug grin never falters, dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

It’s as if the wolf has finally cornered its prey.

"What are you doing here, Y/N-ah? Is this your house?" Jungkook's voice dripped with fake innocence, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your breath hitched. "Wha—Of course not!" You forced a smile, hoping to sell the lie. "I’m just… visiting a f-friend."

But the way he looked at you told you everything—you were already caught.

Jungkook let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Really? Every day? That’s funny." His smile faded, replaced by something darker. "You know, I hate liars, Y/N-ah. Especially lying bitches."

Before you could react, he reached into his pocket and tossed something at your feet.

Photographs.

Your stomach dropped. Each one captured you, stepping in and out of the very house you just tried to deny.

He knew.

And from the way his smirk widened, he was enjoying every second of your panic.

Before you even realized it, a tear had slipped down your cheek, followed by another… and another. Your knees hit the ground before you could stop yourself.

"Please… please don’t tell anyone!" Your voice trembled, your fingers clutching onto his legs as if he was your last hope. "I swear—I won’t bully you anymore! I’ll even tell Jaehyun to leave you alone. Just… please."

Jungkook crouched down to your level, tilting his head as he cupped your tear-streaked face between his hands. His touch was deceptively gentle, wiping away your tears with his thumb—yet the sinister curve of his lips only made you sob harder.

"Shhh, don’t cry, Y/N-ah," he cooed, his voice laced with amusement. "I’m not as bad as you think I am."

For a second, hope flickered inside you.

Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered—

"But you know… everything comes with a price."

You replied hurriedly, the words spilling out before you could even think—too desperate to escape this nightmare.

"What is it?! I promise I’ll do anything! Just please—"

Jungkook’s grin widened. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable.

"Really, princess?" he mused, dragging the moment out as he traced his thumb across your trembling lips. "Then… be mine."

───●◎●───

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, looping around the same dilemma over and over again.

Be mine.

Be mine.

Be mine.

The words refused to leave your head, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Jungkook’s ultimatum haunted you all weekend.

"I know this is hard for your small brain to process… so why don’t you give me your answer on Monday, yeah? If I don’t get an answer from you, then maybe I’ll just release these photos."

And now—it’s Monday.

Your head throbbed from the sleepless nights spent agonizing over what to do. The fear of your secret being exposed gnawed at you, but so did the thought of throwing away everything you had worked for.

"There’s no way I’d become a lowly student. I’ve worked too hard to build this image… this lie."

That alone was reason enough to say yes—to accept whatever Jungkook wanted if it meant keeping your perfect facade intact.

But another part of you resisted.

What does he even mean by "be mine"?

It was so vague, so unclear. Was he playing with you? Did he mean to humiliate you? Ruin you in a different way?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of your desk as the lecture droned on.

An hour later, your last subject was finally over. Jungkook had arranged everything for the two of you to meet again at the same spot—right in front of the rusty gate of your house. It was as if he wanted to remind you of who you truly were, and you hated it.

The walk home felt slow and agonizing, every step heavier than the last. You wished, even for a fleeting second, that a bus would just hit you—anything to give you a valid excuse not to face the devil waiting for you.

As you turned onto your street, your eyes immediately landed on him. He was standing there, patiently waiting, his gaze fixed on his sneakers. From a distance, he looked almost harmless—just another boy lost in thought.

But you knew better.

Because behind that unassuming façade was the devil himself.

Your steps felt heavier the closer you got, each one sealing your fate.

He must have heard your footsteps because his head snapped up, and that same smug grin curled on his lips.

"Ah, right on time," he mused, pushing himself off the gate as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stopping just a few feet away from him.

"...What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound strong despite the way your voice slightly trembled.

Jungkook tilted his head, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I think you already know the answer to that, princess."

Silence stretched between you two.

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way out of this.

With a shaky breath, you finally muttered the words that sealed your fate.

"...Fine. I’ll be yours."

Jungkook’s smirk deepened.

"Good girl."

───●◎●───

And from that moment, your life became a tangled dance—a twisted tango with him. By day, you maintained your queen bee status, the untouchable girl everyone admired or envied. But the moment the school day ended, you were nothing more than Jungkook’s plaything, bound to his every whim.

It started small—harmless, almost. A lingering touch here and there. Sneaking off during lunch breaks to empty classrooms in the old building, just because he wanted to. From fleeting pecks to deeper kisses, ones you didn’t even know how to respond to, but he taught you how.

You never got the chance to hangout with Jaehyun anymore because Jungkook is always there demanding your presence, so you have made creative excuses to deny Jaehyun, but you know to yourself those excuses won't last long. In one way, or another, he will get suspicious with your sudden avoidance.

"Strip."

"Wha—?" His command startled you.

You were in his house—if you could even call it that, given how massive it was. You never thought things would escalate like this. You assumed it would only be kissing, just like the past few days. But perhaps you should have known better.

"What? Why are you acting like it’s your first time?" Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head. "I know you’re Jaehyun’s bitch, so there’s no way you’ve never warmed his bed before." He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on, show me just how good Jaehyun’s bitc—”

A hard slap landed on Jungkook’s cheek.

Perhaps it was the weight of your emotions—weeks of stress and frustration building up because of him. Your hands trembled, your chest heaving, and before you even realized it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Yes, he was blackmailing you. But you never expected him to say something so cruel.

He was mean—viciously, unapologetically mean.

No one has ever been this mean to you

And you hated it.

Jungkook's head slightly turned from the impact, his cheek stinging from your slap. Slowly, he looked back at you, his usual smug expression faltering for the first time.

"I'm not—" your voice broke as more tears streamed down your face. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. "I'm not Jaehyun's bitch, or anyone else's. I’ve never been with him like that… or with anyone!"

Jungkook's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but you didn’t wait to find out what it was. Your vision blurred as you turned on your heel and bolted for the door.

"Y/N," he called after you, but you didn’t stop.

You ran.

Perhaps you were too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed by emotions, to realize you were barefoot—until you had already dashed out of his house, the rough pavement scraping against your soles, a stark contrast to the cold, polished tiles you had just been standing on.

You stumbled slightly, the sting of the uneven ground jolting through your body. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the sky opened up, and heavy rain began to pour.

"Y/N!" Jungkook's voice cut through the downpour. "Let's talk!"

Your legs ached from all the running, leaving you with no choice but to stand there in the pouring rain, chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally, everything in between.

Jungkook finally caught up to you, an umbrella in his hand, though it barely mattered now. Your clothes were already drenched, clinging to your shivering frame.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” he said, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t protest. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the sheer fatigue weighing you down, but you let him guide you back into his house.

The atmosphere had shifted. The tension from earlier still lingered, but now, it was laced with something else—guilt? Regret? You weren’t sure.

Once inside his bedroom, Jungkook handed you a towel and gently wiped away the rain from your face and arms, his touch surprisingly careful. Without a word, he grabbed one of his hoodies from the closet and held it out to you.

“Here,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You slipped the hoodie over your head, the warmth of the fabric instantly comforting against your chilled skin. It smelled like him—clean, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Not that it mattered. It was the best option you had.

Jungkook continued drying you off, his hands moving carefully, almost hesitant. You let him. Not because you forgave him, but because you were too drained to protest.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words. He knew you were upset—he didn’t need to ask. And for once, he didn’t try to justify himself.

And just like that, the day ended.

───●◎●───

The next few days felt normal again. He no longer bothered you, and you were able to hang out with Jaehyun like before.

Yes, he was close to you.

Yes, he called you "babe."

But you had never done anything intimate with him.

You hadn't seen Jungkook at the university either. A slight curiosity lingered in your mind about where he might be—perhaps because, in some twisted way, you had grown accustomed to his presence.

Still, you were thankful he was gone.

Or so you thought…

───●◎●───

I was seething with rage as I watched her smiling and giggling with Jaehyun again—just like the first time.

But this time, the hatred wasn’t for her. It was for him. I know I was wrong for what I said to her that night.

At first, Y/N was just another piece in my game—a means to get my revenge.

But that night… something shifted. I saw her in a different light. She was raw and unmasked—nothing like the persona she wore at school.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push down the anger rising in my throat.

I told myself I’d leave her alone, that After that night I’d back off.

But now, watching her with him, I realized…

I didn’t want to back off.

Because she wasn’t his.

She’s mine all along to claim.

And I’ll make her realize just that.

───●◎●───

I was laughing with Jaehyun when my phone suddenly rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just a wrong number. But when it kept calling again and again, I finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Meet me at the old building. Same classroom as before. We still have a deal, you know? I hope you haven’t forgotten."

Just when I thought my nightmares were over, I was proven wrong.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I knew that voice all too well. He sounded serious—angry, even.

The way he spoke, the sharpness in his tone—it wasn’t the same as before. There was no teasing lilt, no smug arrogance. He sounded different. Felt different.

I swallowed hard before forcing out a response.

"O-okay..."

"That’s my girl."

“Everything okay?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back to the present, his brows furrowing in concern.

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just some school stuff. I need to go for a bit.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No” I blurted out a bit too fast

“I’ll see you later” is all I said before leaving.

Upon arriving at the empty classroom, I saw Jungkook already there, waiting for me—just like before.

His back was leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable as they settled on me.

I hesitated at the door, gripping my phone tightly. “What do you want?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed off the desk and took slow, deliberate steps toward me. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

I frowned, my stomach twisting in unease. “Jungkook—”

Before I could finish, he was already standing in front of me, too close, his fingers brushing against my wrist. “Don’t act like you don’t miss me too,” he whispered, tilting his head as if studying me.

I shook my head, trying to step back, but he caught my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “I-I don’t—”

He chuckled, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

My breath hitched when he pressed his lips against mine—slow at first, as if testing the waters. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to push him away.

But then he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me flush against him. His warmth, his scent—it was all too familiar, too intoxicating.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my lips. “No matter how much you try to run, you always end up here, don’t you?”

It’s like there’s magic to his words that intoxicates me. His hands were just so skilled that it sent shivers in my skin. Perhaps because I’ve never been touched this way by a man.

The kiss was intense, our tongues intertwined. I was close to being out of breath, but he deepened the kiss before letting go. A string of saliva connected us. I looked dazed, almost drunk, as I gazed at him, and the next thing I knew, I was already lying on the teacher’s desk—skirt rolled up, panties gone, blouse unbuttoned. I tried to cover myself out of shyness, which only made Jungkook chuckle.

“I-I’m…”

“Relax doll… I know you’re a virgin, now let me take care of that, yeah?”

Before I could even know it, one of his fingers started slowly entering me, as he laps his tongue on my clit. The intrusion was a bit painful, yet very pleasurable.

“Shit you taste so amazing doll”

My legs were trembling from the unfamiliar feeling, one finger followed by another, as he scissors my insides. It was so good that I became a moaning mess, as I unconsciously buckled my hip out of desperation.

“Ahhhh… J-jungkook, please!”

Jungkook only smirks at the sight of you, he loves the control he has. He loves the way you begged.

He continues to ram his fingers in you before deciding that you’re already ready to take his cock.

His lips brush against her ear as he whispers:

“I’m going to put it in now”

And just like that, he slides his big cock into your tight hole. It hurts, especially with how thick it is, that you started gripping hard on the collar of his uniform as a means to relieve the pain.

After being fully in, he set a slow pace for a while, before brutally ramming in your core.

“You’re so tight, doll. Only for me. Don’t worry, I’ll shape you so you’d only crave me. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

You’re already intoxicated with the pleasure you don’t even know how to proper respond

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well, princess. Just like that. I knew you’d be good for me.

Everything he says is just too much for you, it’s so perverted and degrading that you don’t want to meet his eyes, but he forces you anyway, refusing to let you look away, making sure you see everything that he’s doing to you. Making sure that you’d remember how we claims you

“You thought I didn’t see you, huh? Laughing and giggling with that Jaehyun, while I was away. Now Look at you—whimpering, begging, fucking crying on my cock. You’re mine, princess. Say it.”

You couldn’t respond properly fast enough, so Jungkook grips your jaw, making you open your mouth as he forces to hear those words from you.

“Say it”

Y/N gasps out the words. “I’m yours, jungkook! I’m yours.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Jungkook smirks, satisfied, before thrusting even deeper, if possible, before shooting all of his load inside her pussy.

“I’m gonna fill you up, princess. Gonna make you round and full so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Y/N also reached her high together with Jungkook, but he didn't pull out immediately. He waited till his hard length would soften, and by the time he pulled out, he watched as his cum mixed with yours, dripped down your pussy.

The scene was amusing for him.. you being all fucked out and full of his cum. It’s better than any porn he had watched. So of course, it is only rightful for him to save this moment by taking a picture of it.

Jungkook smiles at you, as he proceeds to fix your crumpled clothes, and puts back on your panties, making it immediately drenched with cum as it acts as a barrier to not let his cum flow out of you.

And you’re just there… too tired to move that you just let him do things for you.

“You're coming home with me now, princess. In our house" Jungkook said with a genuine smile plastered on his face, as if he did not just ruin you.

And in that moment, she realizes—she’s lost.

Completely.

Utterly.

In his mercy.

[writingoddess1125]

Window Visit

Masterlist <<

>> Kofi cause I'm Poor

Kurt Wagner x GN Reader

Fluffy Fluff Ass Fluff!

Soft snores filled your small one bedroom apartment, you having had a rather long day had been dead to the world- Drool staining your pillow as you were off in the land of fluffy clouds.

Tap Tap...

Why were the clouds making a tapping noise?

Tap Tap Tap..

The Fuc-

Tap Tap Tap Tap!

You wake up from your odd dream with a start, looking around confused as you hear the tapping sound once again. Looking to your window as you just saw- Darkness? Turning on your light quickly you almost give a soft shriek as you see Kurt, AKA The Amazing Nightcrawler and your dear friend on your window seal waving at you with a clearly busted face and cheeky smile.

"Oh my God Kurt!" You rush over falling from your bed and to the floor to the window and slide it open quickly, pulling the blue man inside as he holds his side and chuckles.

"Surprise!" He says far too cheerfully for your taste.

"Why didn't you just teleport inside!? Youre injured!" You hiss at him still a bit asleep as you look over him a bit frantically, luckily you saw only a few scraps and probably some bruising however nothing seemed to serious off first glance.

"Its Rude to just appear in someone's home Schatz" He said with a chuckle before wincing softly, You shaking your head at his antics.

"Think anything is broken or are you just bruised?" You ask, Kurt gives a soft shrug. "Bruised mostly, a few nice cuts. Nothing too bad"

You nod, leading him towards the bathroom.

"Best to get you washed up first, then I can get you bandaged up" You say, Kurt nodding as he followed you, watching you grab some stuff for him.

"Come on, Pop the top" You say as you wave your hand for his shirt, he chuckles and peels it off and hands it to you, being mindful of his injuries. You exchanging it for a fluffy towel, spare toothbrush and a wash cloth.

"Wanting to stare?" He teased as he gestured to his naked torso, You rolling your eyes and giving a fake purr at him.

"Of course Blue~ Now. Freshen Up, You smell" You say sticking your tongue out at him which made Kurt laugh and wave you away. You taking his top with you and close the bathroom door behind you, chucking his shirt in the wash as you hear some water running.

Kurt sighs as he looks around your space- Seeing the different products you kept and such before jumping in the shower to get cleaned up.

He spent a good 20 minutes in the shower, which allowed you time to grab some extra blankets and pillows to toss on your bed. Making sure to also lock the window. When the water shut off you walked back over and knocked, The door swinging open as Kurt stood with the towel around his waist brushing his teeth.

"Vo 'ou 'always ha'e 'xtra tuu'th 'rushes?" (Do you always have extra tooth brushes?) He asked taking time to get his fangs and spitting-

"Yes your suppose to get a new one ever 3 months blue-" His brows raised at this in surprise as he set the brush down.

"3 Monate?!" He exclaimed as you nod.

"Come on, sit on the throne, it will be easier to get you bandaged anyway" You say as you walk into your bathroom turning on the warm water and grab the med kit under the sink, Kurt chuckles as he takes a seat on the closed toilet while keeping the towel around his waist tighter to keep modest, you beginning to take a warm rag to any noticeable cuts, making the man hiss in pain.

"Big Baby- Now why aren't you at Xavier's were Doc Mccoy can give you some proper medical care" You question, cleaning a would would some rubbing alcohol as you placed a large bandage across it.

"Ah Meine bessere Hälfte, you make it sound like you don't want me vere" He said with a cheeky smile, You giving him a playful glare as you began to wrap his torso in a thick bandage.

"You know that's not what I meant Fuzzy-"

"Nein, I was on the way back and we flew near by your place. Decided to stop by and visit" He admitted, while you wanted to be mad at him for doing something like that you couldn't. Instead going and placing some bandages on his face after wiping the blood clean.

"Well- Next time just teleport in, Id hate for you to catch a cold trying to visit" You say, shooting him a smile as you wrap up his fingers last- seeing a few cuts on them most likely from the handle of his sword.

"And All done! There!" You beam a smile at him which he returns, wiggling his three fingers at you.

"Danke"

You slide the med kit back and clean up the bits of trash from the counter. Kurt rolling up with a sigh as he followed you out still in his towel as he saw you chuck his pants into the wash having grabbed them from the floor on your way out.

"Uhh Engel my-" He gestured to his clothes in the wash.

"Ill give you something to wear, besides its late anyway- Just spend the night" You call out from your room, the sound of shuffling going on as Kurt turned to your tiny apartment couch.

"Ah Do you want me on the Couc-"

He was cut off as a pair of your shorts hit his face, Him pulling it off with his tail as he glanced in your direction. Seeing you already climbing in bed as you pat the space next to you.

"Get in the Bed Fuzzy-"

You call out, Kurt seeming to freeze for a moment before smiling- Stepping just out of your view to slip into the shorts before teleporting himself next to your bed.

"Goodnight Engel" Kurt said softly, his tail wrapping around your waist as you yawn closing your eyes and letting sleep reclaim you, a smile now on your lips.

Kurt slowly sliding into your bed as he gave a loud groan- clearly his body exhausted from his mission and a soft bed was more then welcome, Pulling the blankets over both of you as you cuddle into the Blue man, he hesitates but only for a second as he wraps his arms around you with a content sigh.

"Goodnight Blue"

[cameronsbabydoll]

BUFFALO 66 AU — CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS — kidnapping, mean!rafe, psycho!rafe

the first thing rafe notices about the world outside is how loud it is.

five years gone, and everything feels too much. the sky’s too blue. the cars too fast. people moving like they’ve got somewhere to be, like they belong here.

he doesn’t.

not anymore.

the bus that dumped him on the edge of town rattles off in a cloud of exhaust, leaving him standing alone on the side of the road. one duffel bag slung over his shoulder. stale cigarettes in his pocket. no real plan except revenge and maybe a place to lay low.

and then — you.

he sees you across the street, outside some little diner that looks like it hasn’t changed since the 80s. big windows. neon signs. and there you are — standing by a payphone like you're waiting on a call that’s never coming.

soft. sweet. pretty in a way that stings.

you don't fit here either.

he clocks it instantly — the way your skirting brushes against your knees when the breeze picks up, how your eyes dart nervously down the road like you’re hoping someone shows. nobody does.

rafe watches from the shadows, chewing on the inside of his cheek, weighing the thought in his head like it’s dangerous to even think it.

he needs a girl.

not just for tonight. not just for company.

he needs a story. someone waiting for him. someone believable enough to get him through what’s coming next. family stuff. old scores. no one’s gonna question a man coming home if he’s got a girl beside him — especially a girl like you.

innocent. gentle. exactly the kind of girl a guy like him shouldn’t have.

that’s what’ll sell it.

and maybe—maybe that’s what makes him want it more.

you glance over your shoulder, nervous.

that little heart-shaped face. big doe eyes like you’ve never been scared a day in your life.

he wonders if anyone’s ever taught you to be careful.

bet they haven’t.

bet you trust too easy.

bet you wouldn’t even scream.

rafe shifts his weight, adjusting the strap of his bag, moving slow across the street like a man who’s already made up his mind.

this is happening.

he watches you tuck your phone away. watches your shoulders slump like you’ve given up waiting.

good.

you’re not going anywhere.

not without him.

it happens fast.

one second, you're staring down at your phone — thumb hovering like maybe you'll text someone — and the next?

he's on you.

big hands — rough, calloused, smelling like cigarettes and sweat — wrapping around your arm so tight it knocks the breath outta your lungs.

“hey—”

that's all you get out. just hey, small and confused, before you're hauled back — your feet sliding against cracked pavement, little shoes scraping helplessly like that’s gonna stop him.

“shh. don’t,” rafe grits low in your ear, voice dark like gravel. “don’t make this harder, baby.”

it’s not tender. it’s not careful.

it’s desperate.

he’s dragging you like luggage, like dead weight, across the empty lot — your baby blue dress twisted up in his fist, delicate straps digging into your skin. purse clattering to the ground. phone skidding under a car.

nobody sees.

nobody hears.

the diner hums quiet behind you, neon lights flickering like nothing's wrong.

he shoves you toward a beat-up car parked crooked along the curb — some old, shitty, rust-bit thing that smells like gas and leather. the door's already open. like he knew this was how it’d go.

“get in.” sharp. final.

and when you freeze — stupid, scared, heart beating outta your chest — he curses under his breath, grabs a fistful of that soft dress again and lifts you like you're nothing.

“i said get in.”

you hit the seat hard, palms scrambling against the dashboard, wide eyes glinting wet like you're about to cry — but all he does is slam the door shut behind you. the car rocks with the force.

by the time you fumble for the handle, he’s already inside, locking the doors with one rough click. trapping you there with him.

you look at him like he’s crazy.

maybe he is.

rafe glances over at you — breathing heavy, jaw tight — eyes dragging slow over the tear in your dress, the way your lip trembles like you’re still trying to understand what just happened.

pretty little thing.

way too soft for this world.

way too soft for him.

“shoulda kept walking, angel,” he mutters, starting the engine.

the car growls to life beneath you both — loud and mean — peeling away from the curb like the start of something you won't be able to come back from.