#All I know is that at the time I was still very obsessed with him lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peoniesnro · 3 days ago

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Perfect Partner | Sequel 2.1

Synopsis - You find you have no one to turn to except, Jeon Jungkook!!

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Yandere (Mentions of kidnapping/ Emotional manipulation/ Toxic and unhealthy love/ Obsessive Love/ Threats against loved once/ Forced Intimacy/ Abusive behavior/ Controlling behavior/ Power play/ Jeon is the same sweet asshole/ Unhealthy coping mechanisms/ Reader is broken/ Possesiveness/ Hope I haven't missed anything) SMUT (Making out/ Finger suckings (Palm too)/ Dry humping/ Humiliation/ Begging/ Groping/ Heavy degradation/ Dirty talking/ Unprotected sex/ Rough sex/ Multiple orgasms/ Begging for cum/ Chocking/ Creampie/ Shower sex/ Threats during sex/ Crying during sex/ Daddy kink!!/ Sex tapes/ Mentions of bondage, shoe ridings/ Again I hope I missed none) Please remember this is yandere!!!

Word count- 18.7K

a/n- Hello there babies!!!! My apologies for splitting the sequel into two parts but I had to considering this was getting too long (we have 18K words already). If I contniued to write untill the end, I'd have ended up writing 50K words and we all would've be in our sixties by the time I uploaded it. So,bear with me while I first upload this one and let's wait for the next one. Also, in this one I paid more attention to SMUT (like half of this is smut), so it might looks like nothing is happening. But I promise, the sereis will end with the next part. (Let's hope Daebi gets what she deserves!) Thank you so much for reading and the support you've shown. I love you all sosososososooo much ❤️.

RUNRUNRUN

This is the second sequel, read the first part here -

Perfect Partner

Coffee?

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

You open your heavy eyelids, feeling as if they are glued. Every inch of your body is sore. Head throbbing. Unmistakable signs of heavy crying in the previous night. You wince in pain as the bright sunlight leaking through the ashy curtains strikes your eyes. You groan softly as you try to move your body,only to realize you can’t. That’s when you realize that you’re not even in bed. In fact, you can see the empty spacious bed right across you.

You’re sitting upright. A soft gasp escapes you. Memories of the previous night slowly start to flood your mind.

The call.

Jungkook.

The video.

Daebi.

Hoseok.

And your little breakdown!

The last thing you can remember is you crying ugly into Jungkook’s oversized t-shirt. His words which didn’t quite reach your ears. His soft kisses on your hair. And his arms that were safely wrapped around your petite figure. The very same arms still wrapped around you.

You’re still in his lap.

Still in the same position where you sobbed like a grieving widow. Your head pressed against his chest. One of your hands is still clutching the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, curled up like a wounded puppy. Jungkook’s cheek is propped up on your head. And judging by the way his chest heaves ever so gently, you know he is asleep. He has fallen asleep while keeping you on his lap. For the entire night. The realization almost makes you feel bad. Almost though. Because no matter what, he is still your kidnapper and waking up in his arms it doesn’t bring comfort.

Absolutely not!

It sends a chill down your spine. You need to get away from him. It was a moment of weakness that you had the previous night. You were heartbroken. Devastated. It was unbearable pain that you endured. It pained you more than how it pained you the day Hoseok told you that he needs to break up. That he’s in love with someone else. Having your boyfriend cheated on you was another thing. But the woman who he cheated with to be your best friend? That’s a completely new territory of pain.

Then she helped this lunatic to get you into this situation? The thought alone makes you want to laugh aloud. How crazy is that? How pathetic is your life?

You ran to Daebi when Hoseok broke up with you. And she had you crying on her shoulder while she was the reason for your tears. She trashed Hoseok like she genuinely despised him with her guts. She got wasted with you on your hardest nights. Only for everything to turn into a lie. One blatant lie.

It’s humiliating when you think about those moments now. How oblivious you’ve been. Hell, you even ran to her when the AI Jungkook started to scare the shit out of you. AOnce again, you ran to the very person behind it all.

Will there be anything harsher that can happen in your life? You don’t think so. So, of course, you were hysterical last night. And this motherfucker, who thought he had the right to drag your already pitiful, pathetic life even lower- had taken advantage of the situation. You would’ve never allowed him to even lay a finger on you if it wasn’t the pain that numbed you of the other senses.

You wish you could just storm away from his hold. Scream at him. Let all your pain, anger and frustration out on him. The thing is though, despite everything, he is still the same Jungkook who managed to get you here. The same man who looks at you with a crazed look in his eyes whenever you act stubborn. And unfortunately, you are still the same person you were yesterday. Broken. Weak. Scared. Trapped. You are still afraid of this man. Very. Hence your weak attempt of stretching your body slowly. Trying to pry his arms away without waking him. You just want to get out of his hold.

It doesn’t work. Just as you try to move an arm, his grip tightens around you. A soft whimper escapes him as he rubs his cheek against your hair. “No..” He breathes. A quick kiss to the top of your head follows that. You freeze. “Five more minutes please…” He adds again. Voice soft and hoarse and his words are nothing but a quiet murmur. There was a time that the same hoarse voice in the morning had made you blush violently. Made you excited. Made your pussy clench around nothing. And you would like nothing more than to say that it doesn’t do anything like that to you anymore. Nothing even closer. Then why are you clutching his shirt like your life depends on it? Then why does your breath catch up in your throat, that way?

Well, it’s because you are scared. Right? Especially, after what you did yesterday, you have all the reasons to be scared. What if he decided to lock you up in a room? What if he decided to chain you to a wall? What if-

“You hungry?” JungKook brings a hand to push back your hair from your face. Doesn’t take his hand right away. He starts to gently massage your scalp. His voice is still sleepy. His movements are deliberate. “Hm? Pretty?” He questions again in your silence.

“How?” You don’t answer his question. Instead you throw another one at him.

“How, what?” He still doesn’t loosen his grip. Not even a little bit. Keeps you pressed against his body.

“How come you have that v-video?” You manage to get your words out without breaking down. A pang shoots across your chest. You’ll never get over that. No.

“I just happened to have it.” He answers vaguely, much for your displeasure. Yet you decide not to question further about the matter. You change the course instead.

“How lon-” This time your voice cracks up. New lump forming in your throat. It pains you. Even the memory of it pains you as if you’re physically bleeding. Even though hours have passed, the pain returns to you fresh. Just like how it was the first time you saw the video. “L-long?” You clutch Jungkook’s t-shirt even tighter, looking for strength from a piece of fabric. “Ho-how long have they-”

“Longer than you think.” JungKook answers you, saving you the misery of having to ask it aloud. “It doesn’t matter, princess. It’s all in the past now. You need to let that go, you know. They don’t deserve you. You deserve much better. They can fuck off.” He finally loosens his grip a little bit. Just enough for him to bring his hand which was in your hair to your chin, and lift your face up. You just let him. He gazes deeply into your eyes. His eyes glowing golden in the morning light. “They aren't worth your time.” Smiles at you softly.

Easy for him to say. It wasn’t him who had been madly in love with the same person half of his life. It wasn’t him who trusted someone so badly that the very obvious signs have become obscure. You bite into your bottom lip to stop the trembling. To stop the sting in your eyes. You are exhausted. Can’t survive another crying session.

“Hey, hey!” Jungkook sighs. “Don’t cry please. I swear, I didn’t want to hurt you, baby. But you weren’t trusting me enough to know that I’m not the bad guy. You were thinking that bitch of a friend of yours could do any good to you. I had to make you see things clearly. I’m so sorry that it hurts. But I’ll make it okay, yeah? I’ll make sure you’re okay. Don’t cry now. Hate seeing you cry.” He rests his forehead against you. You hate to be so close to him. You’re tired, however. So, you give up. Just focus on trying not to cry. Focus on pretending that his presence actually calms you down.

It’s all because you’re heart broken. Once you’re healed, you’ll never feel comfort in him again. Then, you don’t plan on living this life for that long anyway. It’s not like you got much to lose at this rate. And, besides getting out of this luxurious prison, now you have a confrontation to do. You have to meet Daebi and Hoseok. You have to slap Hoseok hard across his face.

You have to call Daebi a ‘bitch’ to her face.

…………………

You eye your breakfast wearily. Even the sight of the delicious- looking pancakes makes your stomach churn awfully. You have no appetite at all. Jungkook, however, never was a fan of you skipping meals. He’s annoying. Too freaking annoying. All you want is to fall deeper into the hole of misery. Just sulk. Be alone with the pain. Such a shame that you’re not allowed to make even simple decisions for yourself.

It’s ridiculous really. Jungkook hasn’t done anything bad. He’s been nothing but kind to you. Caring. Ever so gentle. Loving. Warm. But you’re still afraid. Maybe that fear is deeply rooted somewhere in your brain. With no way of escaping. Maybe it’s because you’ve experienced how much he can change when it’s needed. How he’s turned into a monster when things aren’t going in his way. He might not have done anything bad yet but deep down you know he will, if he wants that.

So, of course you slightly flinch in your seat when Jungkook suddenly sighs. You know exactly what is coming even before Jungkook opens his mouth. That’s why you instantly dig your fork into the soft pancakes. But then he surprises you with his words.

“You loved him that much? You loved him so bad that it still hurts you? After all this time? It’s been years, isn’t it?”

Yes!

That’s the simple and direct answer. You don’t say it aloud, however. See, the fear. Jungkook will not appreciate that answer.

“Why?” Jungkook asks again. You don’t look at him. Just keep picking at your food. Trying not to think too hard about his question because it’ll surely make you cry again.

Why? He asks. You can come up with a list. You know you can but you don’t want to. Jungkook grabs the stool next to you. It screeches against the floor, making you flinch.

“Tell me, baby? What does that motherfucker have that I don’t?” He bends down in an attempt to look at your eyes. You don’t avoid his eyes nor do you look at them. He won’t like the answers if you tell him. For a start, you would like to bring up the fact that Hoseok hadn’t kidnapped you. How he hadn’t created a damn app to traumatise you. But Jungkook won’t like those answers. Besides, it’s not like you’ve hurt completely because of love. No. You are hurt about many things. You loved Hoseok, yes. Maybe you still do. The thing is, though, you’ve come to the conclusion that he’s a cheater a long time ago. And you’ve been loving him less each day ever since. This is not about that. No. This is about trust and betrayal.

“I don’t love him anymore.” You simply mumble before stuffing your mouth with a forkful of pancakes. Jungkook scoffs.

“Yes, but you did.”

“People make mistakes. It’s just past.”

“Yeah? Then why are you sulking? Why is my pretty girl’s eyes all bloodshot and why does she look so tired?”

You put the stupid fork down. It looks like you will have no way of escaping this conversation. “I hate them,” You exhale. Close your eyes. “I hate them and I hate myself. I hate you. I hate how I trusted them ever so easily. I hate that I trusted you. I hate how much of a stupid, pathetic loser I am. I fucking hate my life.” You blurt out before you can even process. Just as the last word leaves your mouth you feel insanely calmed. As if you’ve put down a heavy burden you’ve been carrying around. Just for a minute, however. In the next minute, your face is caught between Jungkook’s rough fingers. He turns your face toward him. That strangely soft and warm look he had in his eyes all this morning has vanished. In its place now is that madness. The look you fear so much. It’s just like the time you told him that he’s sick and he didn’t love you. He’s staring you down just like he did that day. You gulp harshly. A shiver runs down your spine.

Jungkook brings his face closer to you. Close enough until you can feel the tip of his nose nudging against yours. “You,” he grits. “Can hate them all you want. That is what the bastards deserve. And baby,” he squeezes your cheeks hard. Hard that it hurts you. “You can hate me too. Because like I said, you will learn to love me one day. But,” he pauses for a moment. “Don’t ever fucking say you hate yourself. You hear me?” Questions. “Do you?” Shakes your head. “Do not ever fucking talk bad about you.”

All you can do is stare back at him. Wanting badly to glare. Wanting badly to scream. He controls everything in your life. From what you eat to what you wear. Now he wants to control your thoughts as well? You’re already physically trapped. He wants you to be mentally trapped as well?

“I can do whatever I want.” You spit back. God, you wanted to sound as how you feel. Angry. Spiteful. Powerful. But the way you say it is completely the opposite. You sound weaker than ever. Instead of a statement it sounds like a question. And all that it does is make your eyes well up. How helpless you are.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “No you can’t, Pretty. Because, guess what? You are fucking mine and I don’t like when people talk bad about what’s mine. Even you yourself.” He lets go of your face. Just to pick up the fork. You stay motionless as he takes a piece of pancake in it and brings it to your mouth. “Now just eat like a good girl.”

You turn your gaze away. Oh, the way you want to throw a tantrum. The way you want to stand up for yourself. “I’m not hungry.” You use your palms to wipe away the unshed tears from your eyes. Jungkook exhales in frustration.

“If you want revenge, I can make that happen, you know. I can avenge you.” He drops the fork without any further fuss, which surprises you. Yet again. But that’s not what makes you snap your head toward him back. He’s controlling everything. And you’re too weak to change that. But… But this is something you’ll never want. You don’t know if you want revenge. Maybe. Maybe not. All you know is that you want a chance for a confrontation. You want to scream at Hoseok. Then above everything, you want Jungkook to stay away. He won’t rob you of your chance for salvation.

“No!” You gasp. “No Jungkook,” Finally, you manage to glare at him. “I’ll never forgive you if you lay a finger on one of them. I’ll hate you to my grave and I promise you, you’ll never see the day I’ll become yours.” You don’t say the part where you’ll never be his either way. Following your words a heavy silence falls. A deafening silence. Just the gentle sound of the heater filling the air. And Jungkook’s glare.

You expect him to get mad. Expect him to threaten you with something bad. Yet it seems, this day is full of surprises. He does nothing sort of that. Simply gets to his feet. Waste no time as he rounds the kitchen island and walks past you toward the doorway. Almost leaves you to be. That’s when you suddenly burst out another question. Or a request. You don’t know where it came from.

“I just want to meet them.” Your voice makes Jungkook halts in his track. A soft yet bitter chuckle escapes him.

“Not a fucking chance.” He informs you before leaving this time for real.

Of course. Who were you kidding?

………………….

You haven’t seen Jungkook all day. Mainly because you've been holed up inside your (his) room. Just after your little but not- so- civil chat in the morning, you stormed into your room. Have spent the entire day in bed. Just like you wanted. Morphing. Sulking. Reminiscing. Going through your memories, looking for signs and clues that you must’ve missed. Completely drowning in your misery.

And Jungkook hasn’t even poked his head in. Not even once, which is very unlike him. He never does that. Never allows you to be alone for more than five minutes unless it’s really necessary. Like when you are in the bathroom or he is. He would always breathe down your neck. Not giving you any chances to try anything funny. Or he just wants to be around you. Even though you don’t talk to him let alone entertain him.

Then there is the fact that he hasn’t been worried about your meals today. Sometimes, he acts like your father. Always making sure you eat well. Not today. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday and there is no Jungkook to nag you about it.

You find that awfully weird. Odd. Even your insides churn. It’s nearing midnight now and the entire apartment is in eerie silence. You sit back on Jungkook’s bed, letting the dark grey silk sheets fall across your body.

When you first realized that Jungkook wasn't going to come and bother you, you were happy. Grateful. It was exactly what you wanted — a moment alone. You expected you’d feel better. At peace. Because you hate Jungkook’s ever- looming presence. This was the day you’ve been dreaming about ever since you woke up in this apartment next to Jungkook. The thing is, however, you feel neither. You feel worse to be honest. Feel anxious. So fucking restless. If you're being honest with yourself, all this time, you’ve been waiting for Jungkook to barge inside the room. You were expecting him. When he didn’t it had put you on edge. Now you can no longer just sit back and wait.

You remove the sheets as you place your trembling feet on the warm carpeted floor. This is truly maddening. How Jungkook is affecting you, even when he is not around. You don’t like this silence. It’s unsettling. You don’t want Jungkook, but at the same time you want him. At least you’ll know he’s not planning to kill you or something when you have eyes on him. Right? That’s why you feel like you’re losing your mind. That’s the only reason you step out of the room and walk toward the living room in silence. That’s exactly why a breath of relief escapes your lips when you spot the said man sprawled on the couch.

The TV is on. Muted. Luminous colors of the screen are flashing across Jungkook’s face. His eyes are deeply fixed on the screen. You can only see the side of his face. Chiseled jaw. Prominent nose. Glinting eyes. Pink pretty lips. His lip ring glistens in various colors. His hair has turned purple since the person on the screen is standing in a purple background. He is ethereal, isn’t he? Simply not human. Can’t be human. Oh, you hate him. Hate how good looking he is.

Jungkook turns his head slowly, obviously sensing your presence. Or he must’ve heard you approaching. His eyes meet yours. They are still not soft. Still angry. Still stiff. You stay that way for a long minute. Then you turn around. Fast. Making a beeline for the kitchen.

……………………….

Despite feeling very anxious and restless without your captor around, the other major reason that forced you out of the comfy bed sheets was hunger. It doesn’t matter how stubborn, rebellious, and alone you want to be, in the end, you’re just a human who needs fuel to function. An entire day without food isn’t serving you well. Your stomach is grumbling. And you feel weak.

You scan your eyes around the now familiar kitchen. Clean and tidy. Spotless. Jungkook is the tidiest person you’ve ever seen. Yet today it seems like no one has used the kitchen at all. It’s funny how you’ve never cooked anything in this kitchen. It was always Jungkook who cooked for you. Now, after all this time, it feels ridiculous to even think about making your own food. Besides, it's not as if you want to cook in this place anyway. It makes it oddly homey. When you start to cook in a place it means you are going to stay there for a long time. Not just a couple days like at a hotel. But in a place where you’d come back every evening. No. You don’t want that at all. You’ll never get used to living in this prison.

Your body, however, doesn’t care what you want or not. Another growl erupts from your tummy. It’s getting unbearable. Like you are starting to eat yourself from the inside out. Maybe you can eat cup noodles. That’s not similar to cooking, right? All you have to do is boil some water. You give yourself a tiny nod before turning toward the pantry where you know noodles are.

“Are you hungry?”

A loud scream leaves your throat as you turn back at light speed. Almost lose your balance at how startled you are. Jungkook just stands in the doorway, completely unphased at the fact that you lost your shit because of him. You clutch your chest with both your hands, scowling at the man in front of you. He and his damn sleazy movements.

“Want me to order something?” Instead of any apology for startling you, Jungkook fishes out his phone. “What do you want?” Asks again when he has the device on his hand. You take a minute, gaping at his face. Even the sound of that makes your mouth salivate. Yet you shake your head. You don’t want to look even weaker in his eyes. Someone who’s incapable of anything. How shameful that you have to seek him for every little thing.

“I’m not hung-” You start to refuse his offer just to get cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you. Two long strides and your feet are touching.

“For fucks sake, (___), don’t fucking make me the bad guy.” He barks. “Don’t make me force things on you. I,” He pauses for a long breath. When he speaks next his voice drops an octave lower. “Really hate it when you’re freaking stupid to see things clearly. And I’ll hate it even more if I have to fucking knock some sense into you.” His eyes bore into yours without even blinking. You feel your heart skip a beat before starting to go mad. Even your stomach churns awfully. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the shaky breath you let out even if you tried to. Fear rises up in your throat in the form of bile, even when you haven’t had anything in your system. “Don’t make me do things that both of us will regret.” Jungkook adds lastly. Doesn’t step away from you. Just keeps his ground, clearly expecting you to answer. You don’t know what the answer he’s looking for. Yet you answer with another question. Your voice is quiet and meek.

“What are you going to do Jungkook? Hit me? Kill me?” You bite back the tremble in your voice with much struggle. Jungkook looks at you for a second like he’s surprised, then he shakes his head.

“You? Never. But I can certainly make everyone else in this world suffer. You don’t even have a single idea about what I'll do for you baby. Even for simple things. You refuse to eat? Lemme just make you want to eat.” He finally steps back. Scrolls through his phone and then turns it around to show you the screen. A picture. Photo. Of someone who’s dearly familiar to you. Hair dyed in silver and an earring on one ear. Smiling to someone hidden from the camera.

Park Jimin!

You gasp aloud. That picture looks new. Last time you saw him, he had black hair. Park Jimin is someone who’d dye his hair a new color every month but you haven’t seen him with silver hair before. You know it’s a new picture.

Did Jungkook take it?

Does he know Jimin as well?

Did someone else take the picture and send it to Jungkook?

Why is he showing you this now? Is he threatening you?

Your eyes dart between the screen and Jungkook’s face. Jungkook smiles softly. “You won’t want me to just make any of your loved ones hurt now, will you?” He locks the device. You watch as your friend’s image disappears. “Because, I will, pretty. I fucking will.” He pockets the device back again. You feel nauseous. There’s a sickening joy in Jungkook’s voice.

“Y-you- you wouldn’t.” You stare at him. That smile on his lips never even falters.

“Oh, but I will.”

“I told you, if-if you ever lay a finger on anyoneー”

“Do you think I’d just listen to you threaten me? Pretty…” Jungkook clicks his tongue in displeasure. “You are already here, aren’t you? You are already mine. You might not want to acknowledge it yet but you. Are. mine. And I know you’ll come to admit it sooner or later andー” He taps the pocket where he just put his phone. “Meanwhile, we can play it easy or hard.”

“But why- why Jimin? He never did anything wrong to you.” You hastily take a step forward. To be honest, you have no idea of what this man is capable of doing. Not all of it at least. He kidnapped you, yes. He’s sick in the head, yes. But that might not be all he has. He can be even more ruthless. He can be capable of murder even. You need to make sure that isn’t the case.

“But he did.” Jungkook smirks. “He fucking did. If I have to make him suffer, I have all the reasons to do so. Just because I haven’t done anything, that doesn’t mean I can’t, baby. The only reason why I haven’t done anything to anyone, yet,” He brings a hand up. Grabs a loose strand of your hair between his fingers. Plays with it. “is because you are too precious to me. I mean it when I said I don’t want to hurt you, Pretty. But don’t test my patience too much.” His eyes go from that stiffness to softer like a flicker of a switch. So does his daunting smirk. Instead, he smiles at you gently again as he pushes that strand of hair behind your ear. Gently. His fingers grazing over your ear and face ever so lightly. Then he drags those fingers over the side of your neck. And a shiver runs down your spine electrocuting your whole body. You tremble visibly, your breath tangling in your throat.

It’s fear, right? It’s just fear.

“Now, you're a big girl. It’s ridiculous that I have to threaten to take away your toys to make you eat.” Jungkook takes his hand back. Just as his touch disappears you feel insanely cold. Hollow. A longing stirs your insides.

It’s just the fear. You’re awfully scared of him. That’s it.

He just threatened you with your friends’ life after all. You don’t know what Jimin ever did to Jungkook. Jungkook sure does hate Hoseok because he is your ex. Then you know Jungkook hates him because he hurt you as well. Just like he hates Daebi despite her role in getting you in his hold. Then maybe… Could it be the same reason he hates Jimin? Can it be that Jimin knew too. He knew about Daebi and Hoseok. What if he knew about your kidnapping as well? What about Nina? Did they all know about what was going to happen to you and turn a blind eye?

You feel your heart clenches painfully at the thought. There’s a huge chance that it might be the case. Yet still, you don’t think any of their misery would bring you any satisfaction. No. Revenge is a strange word for you. All you want is a chance for a confrontation, which you know you might not have. Unless you work for it, of course. And after everything, you want all of them to be in a position where you can talk to them. So, you fear Jungkook without a doubt. Yes. This is all about that.

“I’m ordering Samgyeopsal.” Jungkook informs you, voice sharp.

You just nod.

…………………..

The midnight dinner had passed in utter silence where you watched a crappy late-night reality show. It was a very uncomfortable hour where you sat idly next to Jungkook, your mind screaming with unasked questions. You wanted to know. Wanted to ask. How did he know Jimin? Was it just like you thought? How did he know Daebi? When did they meet? Lots and lots of things. In the end, however, you asked nothing. Simply because you feared the answers. And after that hour, you decided it was enough. That it was time to crawl inside your room back again.

See now, while you spent an entire day starving yourself, you at least hoped to come up with a plan. A plan that is meticulous enough to free you from this shithole. But you managed nothing close to that. All you did was cry, being depressed, then anxious. Now, just as you close the door behind you and stand in the darkness, you know you’re about to do the same thing all over again. This time, however, you feel it ten times harder. New suspicions about your other friends’ participation in your misery has made it worse.

The lonely feeling freezes you to your marrow. The pain splits your heart in two. The restless feeling makes it hard for you to breathe. It all hits you like a freight train.

Oh, you shouldn’t have been this quick to return here. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt an extra hour watching that crap show.

Fuck, it’s hard.

You actually can’t breathe.

You turn around to stare at the closed door. The room is in pitch darkness since you’ve not bothered to switch on the lights and the curtains are drawn. Still you can see the outlines of the closed barrier that isolates you in this room. You close your eyes for a second, letting the pain engulf you whole again.

Memories.

Memories of shared laughter and tears.

Moments spent together.

Drunken nights and awful jokes.

Friends. Lovers. Betrayal!

A tangled sob leaves your throat. You reopen your eyes, allowing tears to roll down your cheeks. The cruel reality of how alone and helpless you are once again registering in your mind. If what you think was true, if Jimin and Nina knew this from the beginning, then you’ve been alone all your life. No one has been on your side. Ever. You are all you have. No one has ever cared or will care about you. You bet that they’ve already forgotten about you. They probably have. You will never have someone to wipe down your tears when you cry. Offer you a shoulder to rest your head when you’re tired. You have no one. No one…

Except….

You don’t even wait a second to think what you’re doing or to consider the consequences. Simply can’t afford one more minute of this loneliness. Of this pain. You yank open the door and run out. Tears streaming down without a break. Heart violently pounding against your ribcage. Your hurried footsteps muffled against the marble floor.

No one has been on your side ever. You have no one to turn to. Except this one man, who’ll hold you tight when you cry. And all you want is that. Someone to tell you that it’s going to be okay. That nothing was your fault and they are there for you. You don’t care for the fact that the man you’re running into is another one who caused your demise. It’s fine. You just need comfort. A bandage to cover your wound. It’s fine that it’s not a permanent solution and you’ll regret ever doing this in the morning. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you need someone to be on your side.

So, you don’t stop until you barge into the living room again. You don’t stop until you’re met with the man you were looking for. Just about to leave the room himself. You only give him time to just turn around when you stand in front of him. Jungkook’s innocent- looking, doe eyes, which don’t suit a person like him, go wide at your unexpected sight. You disregard his surprise. Instead you wipe your tears away with both your palms. Drop your hands down. You have no idea what you wanted from him or from just barging in here.

“I- just- ca-can you- uh-” Hence your pathetic stuttering. Your hands clenched around your cozy shorts to gain a strength that you didn’t know you needed. But for your luck or not, you don’t have to elaborate any further. Jungkook’s eyes soften as you watch. A kind of hurt flashing across them before he closes the distance between you in a flash. And you find yourself crushed between his strong arms. One arm wraps around your waist, the other cradles the back of your head.

“Of course I will, Pretty. Of course I will…”

…………………

Whatever you expected when you ran to Jungkook, it certainly wasn’t this. Sharing the bed? Maybe. You fell asleep on his lap last night for the sake of fuck. Maybe you wanted to have someone to lie next to you, filling the empty side of the bed. But this isn’t just sharing a bed. The way one of his arms is curled under your head isn’t just sharing a bed. The way his other hand is thrown across your waist and holding your hand isn’t just sharing a bed. Nor is the firm press of your back against his broad chest or the tingling sensation of his breath against your neck.

But the problematic part of this situation isn’t just how he’s holding you close. The problem is that you're not completely opposed to it. You’re enjoying it to be honest. You blame it on the emptiness inside you. On the craving for a caring presence. Not an AI this time but a real person because the way Jungkook’s heart is beating is real. How his chest is heaving when he breathes is real. How his thumb is gently rubbing your palm is real. That’s the reason for you to like this.

Then why does your heart pound in your poor ribcage?

Why does your breath hitch with every rub of his thumb against your palm?

Why does your whole arm feel numb—in a good way?

Above everything else, why do you want him to keep doing it? No. That’s not the case after all. You want him to just do something more.

You close your eyes for the hundredth time, hoping you would actually be able to fall asleep this time. To act like your stomach isn’t doing weird turns. You fail. Miserably so. All you manage is a blink before you reopen your eyes when Jungkook pushes you back more into his body. His thumb keeps rubbing your palm.

It feels good. So damn good that even a moan nearly slips through your lips. You have to bite your bottom lip so hard not to let that happen. You can’t risk it now. Can’t let him know that he’s affecting you. Because you don’t want to get affected. No. You can’t. You are not feeling a fire travelling across your veins. Starting from the spot where he’s touching you. He’s touching your palm for God’s sake and you’re doing your best not to moan?

What is fucking wrong with you?

Jungkook sighs dreamily behind you, pressing his body more and more into you. He changes the pattern he is rubbing your palm. Instead of circles, he starts to rub back and forth, making you squeeze your thighs desperately.

No. No. No….

This can’t be happening. You are most definitely not getting wet. Not because of this psychopath. Not because of a simple touch.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Pretty?” Jungkook suddenly questions. His voice is raspy and thick. Even his voice sends a tingle between your legs.

What the actual fuck?

“Not sleepy.” You answer him with your own hushed voice. Or is it hoarse too? Thick?

“Why not? It’s late.” Jungkook raises his head a bit. As if he wants a look at your face. His thumb is still playing with your palm. “This doesn’t help?” He questions as he lifts your hand up. “I’m trying to help you relax.” Explains though you don’t ask. Well, you don’t know ‘relax’ is the right word to use in this context. Jungkook doesn’t let you question it. He lifts your hand up and up then back, behind you and over your shoulder. “Gentle touches help people relax, you know,” He keeps explaining while you wait with bated breath. Clueless but also excited about what he is doing. Then you feel the cold touch of his nose nudging against your palm. “Doesn’t it work for you?” Gently questions. That’s all he does before his nose replaces his lips. He kisses your palm softly. Hesitantly. Carefully. As if you’d break if he presses a little hard.

He waits for a minute while keeping his lips on your palm. Then when he gets no reluctance from your frozen body, he does it again. Another kiss follows. Once then twice. Three times and four times. Slowly. Sensually. His lips brush over your palm like a feather. And you shiver. Eyes fluttering close at the heavenly feeling.

“Huh, Pretty? It doesn’t help?” Jungkook repeats his earlier question in between his soft kisses. You don’t know how to answer that. So you keep quiet, letting Jungkook kiss your hand. Over and over. And with every kiss it turns a bit tender. His lips linger on your palm a little more than before. As if he’s losing his mind and getting caught in the moment. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Damn it! Why’s your hands so soft?” A soft groan accompanies his words. Words that go straight to your lower belly, igniting a fire there.

And you fail to keep your reactions neutral. A heavy, shaky sigh escapes you even without your knowledge. Jungkook takes that as a good sign. His kisses grow more deliberate.But what truly breaks you is when you feel the tip of his tongue grazing over your hand. Gently and lightly. Circling across your skin, just like how he did with his thumb.

“Jungkook…” You mumble which comes out as a desperate moan. You swear that you don’t intend to do that. Jungkook, however, groans. Applies more pressure into his action. His other hand curls even more under your neck, dragging you insanely closer to him. Practically starts to make out with your palm, shifting between open mouthed kisses and licks. You feel your whole body go weak. Blood pumping across your veins extra fast. “Y-you- you can’t.” You weakly whimper once again, half turning toward him despite your words.

“Yeah?” Jungkook relents. Pushes your hand away from his mouth. You find it amazing how he’s breathless. Cold air replaces the warmth where his tongue had just been, making you already miss the warmth, the tingling sensation. “Then ask me to stop.” He pants. Gives you time to do as he says.

And isn’t that easy? Just ask him to stop. You know that he’d listen.

Ask him to stop.

All you do is whimper.

You can’t let this happen.

You press your palm into his mouth.

Fuck, you need to stop.

“Oh, Jungkook….” You finally moan aloud at the same time he kisses your palm again.

“You don’t want me to stop, Pretty?” Jungkook shifts his attention from your palm to your fingers. Wraps his lips around your thumb and starts suckling gently, almost making you cry. “Answer me, baby. You don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep going?” Even during your filthiest sex calls, Jungkook’s voice hadn’t sounded this thick with lust. It gets your head spinning. Rest of the world and everything else disappears from your mind.

You don’t know how you responded to him. If you said yes or just nodded. But in the next moment you find your back pressed against his chest once again. This time, however, instead of just keeping you close, Jungkook is rocking his hips against your plump ass. You can unmistakably feel the hardness that is being ground against your flesh, creating an insatiable desire inside you.

All you can manage to do is whimper. Stay still and let him grind against you. His cock rubbing against your ass firmly with every thrust of his hips. He stopped playing with your hands sometime ago, for much of your dismay. Not that you can complain about the change, however. This is better. Even though you know it shouldn’t feel great, you’re slowly slipping into a blissful numbness.

You would blame this on not having any actions in your life lately. True that with Jungkook- when you thought he was a mere AI- you brought yourself into mind shattering orgasms more than one time. That somehow doesn’t match the sensation you’re feeling now. That fire was nowhere near the wildfire rapidly spreading through your nerves right now.

Well, if Jungkook managed to make you cum hard just by his voice, why would you be surprised of him being able to get you drooling just with his cock grazing over your ass.

Of course, he knows what he’s doing. One hand splayed across your waist to keep you in place. Face hidden in your neck. Lips occasionally touching your skin. His soft grunts a beautiful melody in your ear. His hard cock a sin in your body.

This is wrong.

But you need more.

Otherwise you’ll explode from the pressure inside your tummy. You’ll die from neediness. It’s crazy how desperately your pussy has been clenching over nothing. Embarrassing how much you’ve soaked your panties.

“Jungkook…” You moan out his name once again. Jungkook doesn’t stop his firm grinding as he answers you.

“Yes, pretty?” He plants a kiss under your ear. “What is it?” Asks through clenched teeth.

You don’t know how to ask him what you want. It’s humiliating. You swore you hate him, didn’t you? You swore you will never be his. Technically, this is nothing like that. Just because you’re horny, it doesn’t mean you’ve entered a truce with this guy. Still you feel like crawling into a little hole at the prospect of being this needy for him. Being at the peak of begging for more.

“What do you want, baby?” Jungkook questions again. You don’t answer. Still not knowing how to phrase your words. Jungkook doesn’t have much patience, though. “Nothing?” He slows down his movements, making you nearly panic. You don’t want him to stop. No. “If you don’t ask, I can’t give it to you.” He stops rocking his hips against you altogether. “Do you want to go to sleep—”

“No!” This time you actually panic, turning your head around to look at him at light speed. “No, no, please..” Words leave your mouth before you can process it. Jungkook raises head again to take a proper look at you.

“No?” He arches a brow. You freeze, suddenly realizing that you had said that. But it’s out anyway and you really don’t want him to stop. It’s too late for that now. “Then what do you need, pretty? Use your words, huh?” As if to give you what you’d miss, he presses his hardness a little more into your ass. Or it is to show you how hard he is. Either way it forces the words out of your mouth that he, oh so badly needs.

“Y-you..” You manage breathlessly.

“Me?” Jungkook tilts his head. “You have me here, don’t you, pretty?” You nearly cry in frustration.

Why would he want to make you say it aloud?

“W-want you to to-touch me.” You stutter around again, growing impatient and more needy with every passing second. It’s funny how the day has turned into this. Haven’t you hated him with a passion until now? Well, you still hate him. Maybe even more because he has this much influence on you. To make you say things that you don’t want to say that easily. Of course, you hate him. But that hate drowns in a lake of desire. Deeper and deeper. Disappears somewhere in the murky depths as soon as Jungkook suddenly grabs one of your boobs, making you gasp aloud.

“Yeah? Like this?” He makes sure with his hand already starting to mold the soft flesh beneath his palms. You shudder, eyes fluttering close. You answer him in a gentle hum and for your pleasure Jungkook takes that as enough an answer. Just for a minute, however. Then in the next, he is questioning you again. “Is that all you need baby? Just this? Want me to touch your tits?” He begins his slow grinding back, massaging your breast with just the right pressure.

You’re almost drooling. Just with this. His hands and his cock grazing over your body through all the clothing. Pathetic. But you can’t care. Too horny for your own good. You would hate yourself at the way you shake your head. Not Jungkook though. The guy loves it judging by the way he kisses your cheek with appreciation.

“No? You need more? What do you need, pretty?”

You’re pushing back on his cock, not knowing exactly what’s happening. It sure feels like a dream when this time you open your mouth without much persuasion.

“To-touch me pro-properly… please… god, Jungkook…” You complete the rest of your sentence with pulling your t-shirt up. Initiating what you want.

And Jungkook laughs. Fucking laughs!

Rich sound of his laughter vibrates across your body. It’s sinister. Cruel. Taunting. He’s letting you know how pathetic you’re being and how it amuses him. You should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. And you do. Of course, you do. Your face reddened at the sound. A strong urge to hide your face somewhere getting to you. But with shame, you get that familiar stirring on your lower stomach.

Desire. Burn.

Burn for Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook knows how to play you. He had played you even before he got to lay a single finger on you. He played you like you were a guitar. And now he’s slowly dragging you into that same headspace.

Making you his little play thing.

Someone who’s completely lost their senses.

“Pathetic, princess. So fucking pathetic. You have no shame!” Jungkook grunts before giving into what you asked him to do. His hand snakes under your t-shirt, finding your bare breasts. “See? Have no shame at all. You came to bed with me, without wearing a bra?” Mocks. His voice is contemptuous. He instantly starts to mould, his thumb flicking over your nippels occasionally. Pays equal attention to both of your tits. Pinches your perky pebbles. “Such a slut!”

In your defense, you didn’t expect this to happen. You expected to go to sleep alone. It’s not fair to assume that. But who would care? Certainly not you because every demeaning word of him is making your body shudder. Your pussy aches. Your empty hole clenches around nothing. And all you want is that emptiness to go. Want that to change. Desperately want to be filled. Especially, since Jungkook is back to grinding.

“Oh, god… Oh, fuck!” You moan aloud, throwing all the remaining sanity and care into the wind.

“Yeah? Does this feel good, pretty?”

You nod violently.

“How good? Are you dripping already? Are you making a mess for me?”

You nod again, followed by another needy moan. Jungkook curses before he stops playing with your tits. You try to protest which just dies in your throat when he drags his hand down through your stomach. Down and down, and stops just below your waistband.

You wait patiently with a bated breath. Completely still despite your heavy breathing. It feels like your skin is burning where his fingers are drawing lewd patterns. But he doesn’t take it further. No matter how long you wait, the next step doesn’t come. Not even when you start to whimper. So, you decide you have no other option but to become even lower.

“Oh, please… Jungkook…” You beg, all the while spreading your legs as much as you can.

“Holy fuck!... You want me to touch you? Want me to touch your filthy cunt?” Jungkook squeezes you in his hold, finally starting to lose it.

“Yes, p-pl-please, yes. Touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

“M-my… fuck.. Jungkook please…” You trail off, burning with shame. How degrading it is to say that. You feel like words are turning into dust in your mouth. Jungkook, though, isn't letting you off the hook that easily.

“Touch you where you filthy whore?” He barks, practically crushing you into his body. You inhale a sharp breath in a fruitless attempt to find the courage. Despite everything, despite the shame, you want him to touch you.

“M-my c-cunt…” You manage to push the bitter words out of your mouth, pleasing Jungkook immensely that he doesn’t even waste a second. His hands go inside your cozy shorts within a beat of a heart. He cups your pussy without further ado. Then his middle finger is sliding along your slit, poking at your entrance and gathering up the wetness. It all happens so fast. The next thing you know is he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit. Occasionally shifts between slightly pressing at your hole. His hard cock still scouring against your ass. And you’re dangerously nearing that peak. Every flick against your clit makes your head spin.

Only if Jungkook allows it, though. He doesn’t. Each time you start to tense he slows down. Changes his rhythm. Then stops altogether, just to start the same thing all over again. Gets you literally drooling. Leaving only him and pleasure in your mind. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing that you don’t even realize when you start to cry for his cock.

“Please, please, please…”

“God damn it, pretty.. You need my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes… Want you… please…”

“But I thought you didn’t want me to even touch you?”

“Bu-but I wa-want you to… n-now.”

Another laugh. “Do you even know how miserable you sound?” Jungkook pinches your clit, making your thighs shake. “But it’s okay baby, you’re being such a good girl for me. Maybe, you deserve my cock.” He rasps in your ear. You almost fall into a false allusion that he’s finally going to give it to you when he pushes the next words out. “But I’m sure, you said you hate me. You said you never will be mine. You fucking flinched away when I was just trying to touch your hand. Now you want my cock?” Flickering of his finger over your clit comes to an abrupt stop. Before you can even comprehend it, he pulls his hand out of your pants. “I don’t think you truly want it.”

It’s ridiculous the way you panicked. Undignified, how you grab his hand, not letting him take it away.

“No, no, please, no, Jungkook. I want you.. I promise.. I really need you.” Mortifying, when you open your mouth.

“You need me? Yeah?” Jungkook leans into you again, closing the short distance he created. Mumbles in your ear. “Then prove it, princess. Beg!”

This time it doesn’t take much more persuading or convincing for you to actually do it. Words start to flow out of your mouth like a broken damn. Even out of your control. Yet, no matter how much you plead and beg, all he gives you is more teasing. His hand back inside your pants and melting your brain and soaking your thighs. And just as he edges you for what must be the hundredth time you snap, falling into the lowest you can go.

“Oh, god pl-please.. Something… Gi-give me something Kook. At least the tip. I need just so-something…”

And with that you break Jungkook as well.

“Holy fuck! You little slut!” He curses aloud. But he finally relents. You don’t even get to comprehend what’s happening before he is yanking your pants down and doing the same to his as well. All you can do is inhale a shaky breath before you feel the tip of his hardened cock at your sloppy entrance.

Finally! Fucking finally!

You almost sigh in relief when he pushes inside you. Slowly. Agonizingly so. An inch by pleasurable inch he stretches your entrance. You moan lowly at the pleasure, waiting for him to keep going and bury himself deep inside you. Only for that to never come. He stops yet again. You turn your head around, catching his face properly for the first time this night. And the sight that treats you is nothing less than you expected.

Divine.

Godly.

Sin.

His entire face is flushed and eyes all pupils. Brows pulled together and eyes closed shut. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

He is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Jeon Jungkook is impractical. Unreal. Maybe he is an illusion. Just as the thought crosses your head he opens his eyes, catching your gaze. And you clench around his tip tightly, completely unconsciously, eliciting a beautiful moan from his throat. He rewards you with a shallow thrust. Then another. Just with only his tip inside you and driving you crazy. You question him with your confused expression. Luckily for you he reads it.

“Why baby? You asked just for the tip… I’m only giving you what you asked for.” He smirks through his haze.

A whimper of frustration tangles in your throat. Yet you clench around him even harder. Every demeaning word from him is fueling your fire. That’s exactly what makes you clutch onto his hand tightly before pushing back on his half sheathed cock inside you. Changing the fact from half sheathed to fully sheathed. He slides inside you swiftly. Just one push and he’s safely buried inside you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

You both stilled, reveling in the feeling. Just for a moment, however. Next moment, Jungkook is gripping your face, roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks painfully. He turns your face around and leans forward until the tips of your noses touch.

“You need to learn how to listen and be fucking patient, baby. You don’t want to be a good girl? You want to act like a needy slut? Can’t wait to get this pussy ruined?” He presses a barely there, feathery kiss to your lips. Stark contrasts the way he’s touching you and his filthy words. “Okay then, I’ll give that to you. I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.” He drawls. That’s the only warning you get before he drags his hips back and rams into you, making you scream his name. He does it again, again, and again. Lets your face go so he can hold your leg up. And as if you’ve not humiliated and embarrassed yourself enough, all it takes is just a few hard thrusts for your prolonged orgasm to crash over you.

“God, fuck yes, sult! Ah fuck, squeeze my cock…” Jungkook hides his face in your neck, inhaling your scent , getting drunk on you. “Fuck, pretty you feel even better than I imagined.” Growls as his hips keep thrusting forward without a mercy. Not even slowing down to let you catch your lost breath. “You have—” He gasps in between his harsh thrusts. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you, pretty…” His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of your neck, arousing you more and more. “I dreamt of this fucking day… you have no fucking idea how much this means to me…” He drags his hand across your body, from your breasts to your stomach. “God damn it, princess…. You know what? I need more… c’mon, on your back—” He withdraws from you fast, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “And I need you naked.”

He doesn’t give you much time to comply with his commands. As soon as he pulls his cock out, he’s pushing you into your back. Even before you can register the movement your remaining clothes are practically ripped away from your body, his clothes following closely.

See now, Jungkook has ridden you into your lowest level already. Has made you say things you wouldn't have said in any other occasions. Had made you beg and plead. But now, as you are laid beneath him, looking at him with your glossy eyes, squirming and impatient, legs already spread without anybody forcing you to do so, it feels worse. It’s one thing if he’s forcing this on you. Leaving you without any options. But to be the one who’s asking for it.

It makes your stomach churn. But the case is, even that doesn’t stop you from humping the air waiting for him to get back inside you.

What’s wrong with you!

It’s all Jungkook’s fault.

You hate him. You hate everything about him. You swear you do. Still, you exhale softly as your hands move across his chiseled abs and chest the moment he gets rid of his t-shirt. Still, you curl your hands around his neck and press your lips to his, turning it into a messy kiss of tongue and saliva without an ounce of hesitance. Still, you keep him as close to you as possible when he pushes inside you again with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. Still, you beg him for more when he starts picking up his pace again.

“H-harder please…”

“More Jungkook…”

“Please don’t stop… keep going…”

You keep screaming.

“I won’t baby. I’ll not fucking stop. Take this cock, yeah? Like that… yes… fuck!”

He keeps promising.

And he keeps his promise. He doesn’t stop. He fucks orgrasm out of orgasm from you.

He makes love to you while hovering over your shaking figure, kissing and biting your lips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear.

He fucks you while holding your writsts above your head and scattering purple marks across your chest and neck.

He worships you by kissing every inch of skin he can reach.

So does he pound you with your legs pushed over his shoulders.

You have no idea how much time has passed or how many times you actually came. Only thing you’re aware of is the pleasure and Jungkook as now he’s slams into you from behind. Your head pressed into the pillow. He’s clutching both of your hands behind you, taking extra leverage. And all you can do is drool all over you and bite onto the soft pillow. You’re getting tired now. But despite all that, you want Jungkook to cum as well.

That shouldn’t be your concern at all. At least you can turn this whole thing about you. You are receiving pleasure. You are using him. Not the other way around. That’s not what’s happening, however. You’re battling your sensitivity, and exhaustion because you want him to cum. Judging by the way his thrusts are turning sloppy and his ragged breaths you know that’s about to happen. Even the thought is making your tummy clench. Despite how wearried out you are, you feel like about to reach another orgasm, just at the thought.

Then just as the thought passes, Jungkook’s voice breaks your stupor.

“Gonna cum, pretty. Gonna cum inside you, yeah? Fucking make you mine…”

You think you just die at the spot. It’s not possible to feel more aroused. But you do. Even a cry leaves your parched throat.

“Please… yes…” You try in vain to turn your head and look at his divine face but he steals your moment when his hand leaves yours just to grab your hair. You let out a surprised squeal when you’re being yanked back. Your back collides with his chest. His hand immediately snakes around your throat. Squeezes. Not enough to hurt you but enough to cut your air flow.

“You want that, pretty? Want me to cum inside you?” Jungkook growls, his thrusts turning sloppy and sloppier.

You nod, feeling your head getting dizzy. It’s his hold on your neck that's keeping you upright. Your legs are buckling under your weight.

“Say it aloud, princess. Say you want me to cum inside you. Fucking beg for my cum.” Jungkook presses his fingers around your throat a little more, like an unspoken threat.

“P-please c-cum inside me… Pl-please…”

“Again.”

“Oh god, please… pl-please… fill me up, Jungkook. W-ant your cum. I need your cum…” You choke out, struggling to breathe.

“Again, whore. Beg like you really want it. That’s notー” A powerful, harsh thrust. And his grip tightens a little more. “Enough.”

“Please… Jungkook… Want to be so full of your cum. I- Iー” Fortunately for you, those next words do the trick. Just as the words leave your mouth Jungkook stills, his cock twitching inside you. You feel the warmth engulf your insides. Thick ropes of cum painting your walls and putting you into a delirious state. His grip on your throat loosens.

You stay that way, pressed into each other for another long second before Jungkook lowers both of you into the mattress. A deep sigh of satisfaction which lets out by you mixes into the heavy breathing of Jungkook.

You feel light. As if you’ve put all your weight down. You feel like there’s nothing wrong in your life. Even the pain has dissipated somewhere. And you close your eyes into a pure bliss of silence. No pressure, no pain, no problem there to bother you anymore.

……………………………

You can’t believe you did that!

You scrub your chest hard.

How could you?

You scrub your stomach even harder.

How did you do that?

You feel sick. Nauseous.

It was with an unpleasantly twisting stomach that you ran into the bathroom a few minutes ago. Just after you woke up, next to Jungkook- the very same man who dragged you across hell. Then to make matters worse, you were tangled up with himー comfortably.

Comfortably!

And naked!

You sprang out of bed, even not caring for the fact that you might wake Jungkook up. Nor did you wait to see if that was the case. You’ve wanted to throw up. You’ve felt like that but no matter how long you’ve waited kneeling in front of the toilet, nothing came out. So, you’ve opted for a shower. Which is what you’re doing now.

Tears uncontrollably flooding through your eyes. Muffled sobs escaping past your lips. Steaming hot water cascading across your body.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you entered the shower box. Maybe it’s just a few minutes or maybe it’s been hours. And you’ve been scrubbing your body like crazy ever sinceー to no avail. It doesn’t matter how hard and long you rub your skin, you feel like it’s not going away. The imprints of his calloused hands. Imprints of his soft lips and the coldness of that damn lip ring. The wetness of his hot tongue and the tingle of his breath. Then the fullness you’ve felt when he was inside you.

You feel like he's still inside you. You can still feel the harsh thrusts. Can feel his skin slapping against yours.

How did you let yourself do that?

Now, you can’t get rid of him.

You put extra pressure on your skin, scrubbing even harder. You lather on more and more shower gel, then go back to scrub. At this rate, you might end up actually hurting yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You need him gone.

You bring your hand down between your thighs, starting to scrub your inner thighs. This is the part you’ve paid the most attention to. You woke up with his cum dried on your thighs. Another, louder sob erupts as you try to get rid of the unseen evidence of the previous night. You wish you could wash your memory and soul as well. Wipe off everything. You want the previous night to be一

The sound of the bathroom door banging against the wall makes you jump on your spot. Yet you don’t get to let out much of a reaction before Jungkook barges inside the shower box. He wastes no time as he roughly snatches the scrubbing towel you’ve been using to scrub your body. You flinch and stumble a step back as Jungkook throws the towel away, blindly.

“Fucking stop that!” He yells as he closes the distance between you, forcing you to take a few more shaky yet hurried steps back and cover your head with both your hands. You don’t even care for the fact that you’re stark naked. In all your time with him, you’ve never heard him raise his voice like this. “Fucking stop you little…” This time he grits through his clenched teeth. You cower behind your hands even more, which Jungkook finds to be more irritating. He yanks your hands away. Holds them apart and gives you a rough shake. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, (___).” He pulls you forward.

All you manage is a tremble and a whimper.

You’ve seen Jungkook mad. Or not. You’ve thought you’ve seen him mad. Him going berserk over the phone was nothing similar to this. Him raising his voice across a phone was nothing like seeing his face right now. He looks like a beast, almost inhuman. All of his beautiful features masked with pure fury. Eyes wild and bloodshot, jaw slack. A vein throbs at his temple.

Jungkook looks crazy.

Jungkook looks capable of murdering.

Jungkook, the man who treated you oh so softly despite being a monster, looks like he’s about to snap you in half.

“You said you wanted it” He shakes you again, this time even harder, pulling out more and more whimpers and cries. You find yourself even incapable of replying to him. Your heart pounding in your throat. Your vision dims.

Maybe this is how you’ll die. He’ll strangle you to the death.

“You asked me to touch you, (___).” Jungkook’s voice lowered an octave this time. “You asked me to fuck you. You said you wanted it. D-don’t一” His voice cracks a bit and you think a flash of hurt breaks the fury in his eyes. And something inside you turns. Blinding fear subsides a little. He heaves a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Don’t act like I forced that on you.” He chokes out. The feeling inside you intensifies. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your head throbs with the rhythm. You gather courage to peer into his eyes. That beast is there but you see the pain. “Don’t be aー” He starts again.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s fear. You wanted to distract him. Partially. You absolutely do not wish to die here. But then there was a guilt. Regret. A hurt that stirs your insides. Whatever the reason could be, you surprise yourself when you lunge forward, silencing Jungkook’s words when you press your lips to him. Initially, it’s just a press of the lips where you both do nothing, but then he pushes you back at the same time he starts kissing you desperately, madly, furiously. You return it to the best.

Your back hits the cold wall behind you. Jungkook kisses you with the same fervor for a few more intense minutes before he pulls away. That’s only when you realize that the shower is still running. That Jungkook is half naked as well and is only wearing his boxers. That he’s getting drenched.

You peer at his face for a moment. The way the fury is still there but now laced with lust. You watch the way the droplets slid over his face. Over his chiseled cheekbones. Over his pink lips and the damn lip ring. A shudder ripple through you before you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, bite gently, soon falling into another kiss. Jungkook moans in appreciation. His hands leave yours so he can skim across your curves instead. Your back, waist, ass, stops under your thighs. Then in one swift moment he picks you up from the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist on instincts.

Jungkook is the one who pulls away again. This time he does it with a harsh bite on your lower lip. Harsh enough that you mewl in pain before he sucks on the spot and soothes the sting. He lets your lip go before resting his forehead against you. Panting.

“You wanted to get rid of me?” He questions, with that dangerous tilt in his voice, sharing one breath with you. You don’t answer him. Just try to fill your lungs with enough oxygen. “You wanted to escape me?” He repeats to which he doesn’t get an answer again. He presses another kiss to your lips, then drags those kisses toward your jaw. From there to your neck. Biting and sucking gently. Adding more marks into your already bruised skin. Mumbles his next words into your throat. “Guess what baby? You’ll never escape me.” With that he raises his face back to peer into your eyes. “I’ll fucking taint your memmories with me,” he growls. “I’ll fucking live inside your head, I’ll fucking burn myself into you. You. Are. Never. Going to escape me.”

You tremble once again. Partially from a fire inside your stomach but partially from an unexplainable fear. Jungkook holds you with one arm for a bit as he shuffles with his boxers, pushing them down. Even the prospect makes your breath hitch and pussy clench. He holds you in his hold securely. “You are mine, baby.” He plunges inside you, ripping out a cry from you at the unexpectedness of his movements. Luckily you are already wet enough that he slides in easily. He stops once he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “You’ll be mine.” Gives you an experimental thrust. Your head falls back, hitting the tile and you clench around him violently. “And don’t try to deny that because trust me, princess, I’m gonna make you mine one way or another. I’ll rip your heart out of you and keep it inside a box if that’s what it takes. Soー” A harsh thrust interrupts his threat. “It’s time you should accept that you’re meant to be mine, pretty.” He picks up his speed and starts pounding into you. Calling you his over and over again.

“Mine. Mine. Mine…”

………………………..

Jungkook never wanted to do something that you wouldn’t like. Never wanted to scare you. Even if he had, unintentionally, a few times. But the thing is, you’re not entirely blameless. You are a little stubborn witch in disguise. A brat. How hard it has been for him to keep you at bay.

Jungkook found himself questioning often, why you were so reluctant to accept him. Be his. Understand that you two were always meant to be together. That you’ve always been tied to him with a red string. But then he believed you would come to accept that one day. He knew you would actually return his feelings. Give him what he’s been craving so badly for years.

Years!

It has taken more time than he had expected, however. From the day he got a hold of you again through his meticulous plan to the day he finally brought you into this place that was supposed to be your safe haven. It has taken longer to make you see things even if it’s not fully yet.

But god, the trouble he had to go through!

First, it was making sure you wouldn’t do something that’s stupid and hurt yourself. Then there was the problem of controlling himself. It was as if holding his breath forever. You were a walking, talking ball of temptation. Jungkook had the hardest time having you around, in your cute shorts and comfy t-shirts which he picked out for you. You were the most adorable yet the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been watching you from afar for so long. Can anyone blame him for nearly losing it when he finally had you in a close proximity. Close enough he could touch you, hold you, and hear you.

The temptation was like a demon on his shoulder. He found himself in moments where he was a hair’s breadth away from kissing you until you were breathless. Bending you over and fucking the senses into you. But, thanks to all the high spirits above, he managed to control the urges. Because, in the end, Jungkook never wanted to do something that you didn’t want him to.

Not because it was hard. It was easy in fact. But Jungkook always wanted you to want him. You never wanted him. Not back in your college years. Not even when you were chatting with him. True, you texted him every and each day but you truly didn’t know who he was now, did you?

Then, suddenly all of his hard work paid off that way.

Suddenly, you were seeking him. You were asking for him. You were willingly being with him.

Just like now.

It’s been a few days since your first night. Since Jungkook finally bent your stubborn will enough to see him. See his love. Yet still, Jungkook can’t help but gasp quietly in surprise when you straddle his lap, emerging out of nowhere. He can’t help but feel like pinching him to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

You get comfortable in his lap. He is sitting on his gaming chair, not particularly playing games but he’s stressing over this one client. Some people are just morons who can’t understand simple things. Jungkook had leaked a very important piece of information to the public on this said client's request. It was the deal they made and the fucker should not be contacting Jungkook again. But here he is, asking for another deal. This time to revise what he already did. See now, Jungkook might be very good at his job. Sneaking into any database and leaking anything for the right amount of money. The thing is, however, he isn’t God and therefore the power of undoing something isn’t on his hand. Life, unfortunately, has no control plus z. His idiot of a client isn’t understanding that.

And Jungkook was at the verge of finding the man and choking him to death himself when you appeared, now hiding your face in his neck. You plant a soft kiss on his neck making him shudder. A moan almost slips past his lips. He aligns his neck to give you more access. You haven’t said much since you straddled his lap, your legs placed either side of him. You pick up on his cue and strat peppering soft kisses over and over. Jungkook unconsciously wraps an arm around your body.

“What are you doing, baby?” He questions as you move toward his throat.

“You seemed tense.” You answer him, softly.

Fuck!

Jungkook finds this to be a huge victory. Despite all the time he had you lying beneath him and moaning his name, you mostly didn’t talk with him. And to think you care about him.

Did he die?

Is this heaven?

“Yeah? And you want to help me.” He starts rubbing your back soothingly. You nod into his throat. “Fuck!” Jungkook curses at the sensation of your lips on him and your admission. “God, pretty, you gonna kill me,” he gives a gentle smack on your perfect ass, marveling at the way you whimper in return. “What do you want to do, baby? How are you gonna help me?”

You pull away from worshipping his neck at his words, facing him and peering at his eyes with your glinting eyes. A little bit hooded and glossy. You exhale a shaky breath. “I wanna- I- uh- can I suck you off, please?” Whisper oh so softly that Jungkook almost doesn’t hear you. He does somehow and the way his heart flutters must be risky to his health. Maybe he’s about to have a heart attack.

He never wants anything more. This. You are on his hold and begging to please him. Jungkook has finally won. The flutter in his heart soon travels south creating a stir in his lower stomach and groin. He was becoming hard slowly since the moment you sat on his lap but now at your words, he goes rock hard in a blink.

“Fuck! God, yes… You don’t have to ask, pretty. You get whatever you want.” He kisses your lips softly. “You want to suck daddy’s cock?” Asks against your mouth, making you tremble. You nod hurriedly. If he’s to push his hand inside your pants, he knows he’d find you already dripping wet. See, it is fate. You’re even this compatible in bed. He knows which button to play to get you high without any drugs. And you know which strings to pull to get him drunk without alcohol. “Go on then, on your knees, princess.” He commands, flipping that switch inside his brain to become the man you want him to be. You instantly start to shuffle down when he stops you once again. “Get rid of the clothes first, want you naked, kneeling in front of me and choking on my cock.”

You comply with him without a second request. Don’t even wait until Jungkook pushes down his sweats completely before you hungrily wrap your hand around his shaft and lips around his tip, pushing him into a blissful haze. From there it’s just a mess of drool, tears, and the sound of gagging. You don’t disappoint him the slightest. You prove him right again and again. With your tongue swirling around his tip. With him hitting the back of your throat. You prove that you’re just where you should be. And Jungkook’s head is spinning. He’s sure that he’s going to explode. Yet within few minutes of fucking your throat, he had to drag you into his lap again.

This time, however, your back facing him, your legs spread widely, and his cock buried inside you. Jungkook would’ve been more than happy to make you swallow his cum but he couldn't help but being a bit greedy and wanting the warm confines of your pussy. You clench around him every time his middle finger garzes over your clit and like clockwork, Jungkook feels his cock twitching.

“You feel so good, slut. So fucking good… You love daddy’s cock?” He asks in your ear. You moan out an inaudible ‘yes’. Jungkook rewards you with a slow thrust. You look so blissful. So lost in him. So fucked up. Makes him want to see and try how much he can push you. How farther you’ll bend for him. “You look pretty, baby, so beautiful,” He kisses your shoulder. “Would you like to see how beautiful you are?” He asks to which he doesn’t get an answer in return. He doesn’t mind that, simply knows you’re so far gone to be able to perform coherent thoughts let alone words. “Would you like to record this baby? So, we can watch it again, andー” Rest of his words die on his tongue when you squeeze his length so hard. “Holy fuck! You like that? You want that?” You answer him with another nod but this time he wants your words. “Words baby…”

“Yes. Yes Jungkook… I…”

That’s enough for him. He drags the chair forward keeping you on him safely, fumbling with his phone with one hand. He places it on the desk, propped against his monitor, front cam opened, and facing you both. Capturing a beautiful view of you filled with him. And he hits the record button. Pulls the chair back to adjust into the best position.

“There you go, slut. C’mon now, ride me!”

…………………………….

You are lying on your side, curled up on the couch and back pressed against Jungkook. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. Titanic is playing on the TV and you’re doing your best to pay attention with Jungkook’s mindless nibbling on your ear.

Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to being close and intimate with him even when sex isn’t on the table. You’ve learnt to accept all the pampering, cuddles, and innocent kisses. You’re not sure when exactly that happened.

First, it was all about sex. After the time he fucked you in the shower and swore that you’ll never escape him, you promised yourself that you’ll never allow him another chance to even lay a finger on you. That was going well until he sneaked into the bed that night. Each and every time you swore that it was going to be the last just to fail miserably. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, every time his lips pressed against yours, his hands roamed across your body, his breathy voice whispered against your ears. Jungkook had it all easy and one day you’ve decided to let it happen without any resistance from your mind. Because, in the end, your body was going to betray you anyway.

Ever since, your life has been one haze of pleasure. There was no space for pain. Even the memories of your life before thisーthe life full of misery and bitchy people has faded into the past. Jungkook has been keeping you busy all the time. Busy enough that nothing could disturb your blissful peace.

Through endless sex and mind shattering orgasms, time has slipped through your fingers like a passing breeze. You think there is no space in this entire apartment where Jungkook hasn’t had you in. Kitchen. Couch. Balcony. Pressed against a window. Even on top of the washer. And every way he can. Tied up to his bed post. Blindfolded. Even had made you ride his shoe. Had made you masturbate while he watched and recorded. Had you plugged in with his cum inside. Every kind of kink he can think of.

You have started to lose sense of the time. Every day feels the same. You’ve fallen into the same routine. And despite all the pleasure, you’re growing tired of it. Maybe you need something new to focus on.

“Jungkook?” You call out softly. He stops nibbling on your ear immediately and pays attention to you.

“Yes, pretty?”

“Can you- uh- buy me a book maybe… please, I’m getting kinda bored…”

A soft gasp treats you, forcing you to turn around and look at him in confusion. He’s regarding you with a wide grin. You raise a brow in question.

“Of course, I can, baby. I can buy you anything you want. You don’t have to ask like that. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you right away.” A gentle kiss to your cheek. “So, a book, huh? You’re not a reader?” He teases.

You almost open your mouth to question how he would know before it hits you. He knows. He knows every damn thing. What’s your favorite food to, now your favorite position. Then there is you, knowing nothing except his name. You turn around completely, facing him properly.

“I am not but I can start reading.” You tilt your head up to peer at his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but you beat him into it. “How come you have so much money?” You question without letting yourself weigh the consequences of questioning. Jungkook’s face falls.

“I don’t have a lot of money.” He answers gently.

“You do,” you gesture around the lavish apartment. “This apartment is the most luxurious place I’ve ever been to. And,” you clutch his shirt. “It’s like you’re never stepping outside this house. You’re earning all this money by working from home? What kind of job pays so much?”

Jungkook sighs. “I’m good at developing. Apps and stuff,” He looks carefully at you, as though he’s expecting a harsh reaction from you. You almost do before you catch yourself in time. It’s all past anyway. “I-uh- let’s say I work in I.T, yeah?” That’s the clue for you to let the topic go.

“Where’s your family?” So you change it.

“I don’t have one.” He answers that more easily than the previous one.

“Oh! You’re orphー”

“They’re both alive but I refuse to have any contact with them. They’ve made my life a living hell.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You apologize quickly. A heaviness engulfing your chest at his words. Jungkook chuckles and brushes stray hair away from your face.

“It’s fine, pretty. Why all the questions, though?”

“Just because. I just realized I don’t know much about you.”

“Yeah? Why do you want to know about me?”

“I- I don’t know. I just want to know.” You shrug nonchalantly. Yet as you watch, Jungkook’s face lights up. Eyes glinting and lips spreading into a wide grin. Wide enough that he has to bite down on his lip to contain it. In a matter of seconds, he turns into a boy who's ten years younger than him. And you think you see a faint redness in his cheeks as well.

…………………………..

Jungkook knows that you have no idea how much it means to him to know you’re getting closer and closer every day. First sex, then all the shared casual moments, and you were interested in knowing him. And then you asked him for something?

Isn’t that what lovers do?

Aren’t you acting like a cute girlfriend?

Oh, the fluttering of his heart and stomach you’re causing. Jungkook doesn't think he’s been happier than this in his entire life. He’s riding a high just by watching how shocked and excited you are kneeling in front of the books he brought for you.

“What the hell, Jungkook?” You look up at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“You asked for books.” He gestures at the box before you.

“No…” you groan. “I asked for a book. Not for a whole damn library?” Start to rummage through the box, pulling out a book. “What am I gonna do with so many books, Jungkook?”

“Read them.” Jungkook kneels beside you, stealing a kiss into your hair while he does.

“I’m a slow reader, I’ll fucking die before I ever finish reading these.” You sigh exasperatedly, being a little dramatic. To be honest, it’s not even that many.

“Hey, it’s okay, pretty. I told you I’m gonna buy you anything. It’s fine if you can’t read them all or you start to get bored at it. Find a new hobby and tell me what you want.” He takes your hand in his. Kisses your soft hands delicately. You look at him with sparkling eyes.

Fuck!

You’re turning to your normal self slowly. You’re getting your color back. Putting on weight. You smile more and talk to him more. Few more days and you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been.

See, Jungkook knew exactly what you needed. He was right all along.

Just a few more days and he’ll be able to let his guard down. Stop watching your every move like a hawk. Rescheduling and canceling his plans because he can��t leave you alone in here. He managed a good enough security system including cameras but he’ll never know. He had to keep a close eye—for now. But soon you’ll never think about leaving him.

Because he can see the way you slowly understand that you belong to him.

“You’re crazy.” You grumble as you get to your feet. Jungkook follows your actions. You take a step toward him, and bide your time for a minute before standing on your tiptoes and kiss him. Hard and deep.

“Whoa is that a thank you?” He pants once you pull away.

You nod. “There’s more.” Say as you throw your arms around his neck and jump. He catches you up by your thighs with the practice ease.

“Yeah? Another video?”

“Yes, please…”

………………………….

You stay still, unsure of what to do as Jungkook gently cups your face in his hands.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He asks for what must be the millionth time. You nod again, trying to appear confident and nonchalant. But the thing is, you’re nervous. Every nerve ending in your body is ablaze.

Jeon Jungkook is about to leave you alone in this house for the first time. Something about an unavoidable meeting with a client.

You don’t know if he’s ever done it without your knowledge before. Maybe he had. But at this moment, he’s doing it with your full acknowledgement. He’s stopped locking you in that damn room every time. Mainly because you’ve been attached to him by the hip lately. You’ve started sharing a bed and a shower. He had no reason to be worried about you trying anything funny, anymore. This, however, is his first time giving you this kind of freedom. And you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Pretty?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in concern.

You clear your throat quickly. “I can Jungkook, I’m a grown woman.” State as you free your face from his hold. You both know that he isn’t referring to your capabilities of staying home alone. You both know he’s asking if you’d not betray his trust. That you’ll not try something that would make both of you regret.

He smiles softly at your admission. “Well then, I won’t be more than an hour.” He finally takes a step away. You return his smile, staying rooted in your place. He takes another and another, walking backward. Just as he’s about to turn around, you snap out of your stupor. You rush forward, five quick steps, and press a kiss to his lips.

Creases between Jungkook’s brows finally ease up as you pull away.

“Be quick.” You mumble, turning him around and you give him a gentle push forward. This time he doesn’t stop you. You walk with him to the front door, wait till he walks out and disappears before releasing a shaky breath.

For the first time, you’re completely alone here.

………………………..

You don’t know what you should do.

All these times, you’ve never even thought about an escape. Jungkook has kept you busy. Busy enough that you’ve forgotten you’re a prisoner here. That he’s your captor. Not someone who you can trust or your lover. But the thing is, you don’t know what to do?

Do you try to run away? To where? To your old house? To the police station?

Then what? Do you still want to confront Hoseok? Do you still want to meet your best friend? Yes, probably. Maybe…

But, do you have the courage to escape?

You don’t even know what kind of security he has. In your first few days you were so keen to know every minuscule detail about this place, planning your grand escape. Now you know nothing.

You stand up from the couch after staring into the empty black screen of the TV for the past twenty minutes. Nothing is going to happen by wasting your time. You make your way slowly to Jungkook’s guest room where he has kept his computer, without any purpose. You don’t know what you’re doing.

It’s just that you’re too restless to stay put. There’s a clock ticking and if you want to do something, you need to be fast about it. No, there’s no ifs, you should do something. This is your chance.

But the problem is that you don’t really feel like doing anything.

An inaudible groan of frustration leaves your throat. This can’t be happening? You can’t be serious. After everything, after the hell he put you through, you can’t simply want to stay with him.

Sex was good, sure. He was treating you well, sure. Still, he’s the same person who guided you into a trap. You’ve been stuck in that trap for a while now.

Yet even the thought of escaping. Running away from Jungkook gives you another level of fear. As if the safe bubble you’ve been living in is about to burst. It’s scary. To think that you’ll be back in the world, wandering around. Facing Daebi and Hoseok who have a fair share in your misfortune. Maybe others do too. Maybe they don’t want you back in their life at all. Jungkook does, though. Your parents must’ve accepted that you were long gone and moved on. There is no one out there who is waiting for you. Jungkook is here for you.

But is this the life you want?

What about walking among people on busy nights? You didn’t love your job but you loved earning your own money. What about living your life of your own accord and not having to rely on someone else? What about travelling the world? What about late night clubbing? Meeting new people? Worrying about buying new expensive clothes? What about life?

You can’t live your whole life this way. Stuck in an apartment while your entire world revolves around one man. You don’t want it to be like that. It’s not like you’ve fallen in love with him anyway. Right? Of course, not. You’re not a victim of Stockholm syndrome.

No. No. No…

You have to do something!

You take a few rushed steps toward Jungkook’s working table, without knowing what you’re actually doing. Maybe you should just risk it and try to open the front door. Or maybe you can turn on his computer and send a message- not to Daebi or any of your friends- but maybe to someone else. Police. Or anyone you could reach. You can check the drawers for a second phone. You couldー

“Fuck!” A loud curse leaves your mouth as an unexpected pain erupts from your left foot. You’ve hit it on the leg of the table. You come to an abrupt halt, mewling in pain, and bend down to rub your foot and ease the pain. You stay in that position and rub your poor toes for another long second before finally straightening up, ready to continue your aimless mission. Only to mewl again when the top of your head hits something. Luckily for you, it was just a pile of books that dropped down to the floor at the impact, with a loud thud.

“For fucks sake!” Irritation bubbles inside you. You bring your hand up to rub your head this time, eyeing the fallen pile of books. You’ve no time to reorganize it. You already wasted enough time. That’s what you almost do.

Almost, though.

Just before you turn around again, your heart beating in your throat, you notice the photo on the floor. Probably was inside a book and slipped out when they dropped down. You would’ve ignored it if it wasn’t for the person in the photo. You can mistake anyone else for someone else. But yourself?

A sharp inhale fills your lungs to the brim before you let that breath out.

It’s you who’s in the photo. Undoubtedly and unmistakably. So what? It’s not that much of a surprise to Jungkook to have a photo of you when you know he’s been stalking you. But what gets you frozen in mid motion is the fact that the you in the photo was from ages ago.

College?

You kneel before the scattered books and papers, feeling your legs buckle. Something uneasy gathers and swirls inside you, twisting your guts unpleasantly. You know this feeling well. You’ve been getting such kind of feelings all of your damned life and everytime you weren’t wrong to suspect something bad. Because every time you felt this way, something bad happened.

You pick up the photo with trembling hands to take a closer look. You might be mistaken about the time frame.

A young, carefree girl smiled back at you. You’re not mistaken. No. Definitely not. This photo was taken years ago. This photo was from another world. A world you’ve left behind and forgotten for the good.

It’s from your college days!

You feel your head start to spin. Memories of blood plague your mind. Screams of agony echo inside your skull. Touch of warm hands tingles your skin. Wetness of a sweet pair of lips brushed across your lips.

You close your eyes to shake away the unwanted memories. You can’t let this happen now. No. Yet all you can see is the blurred lights and silhouette of people. All you can smell is the cigarettes and alcohol.

The cursed night!

This- Jungkook and his stupid app, and his kidnapping- wasn’t the first time you’ve been through hell. You’ve been through worse back then. But after so much effort- including countless therapy, changing universities, starting your degree all over, moving into a different city and years of pain and nightmares, you left that life behind. You were living a normal, good life until Hoseok broke up with you.

Now, a single image is bringing all the buried memories up. The things you don’t want to remember. You swallow down a sob, forcing yourself to pull it together.

It’s going to be fine…

You reopen your eyes and stare at the photo again. Fighting, battling. Trying hard not to break down on the spot.

You can do this…

Just put the damn photo away and focus on your task…

It’s past. It’s past. It’s past.

It was all over.

But how does Jungkook have it?

You freeze again, brows furrowed in confusion. Did he stalk you so hard he found your old photos as well? Did he know about the past that you hate? Did he know about the pain you went through but still decided to traumatize you more?

You clutch the photo even tighter. You’re fighting. There’s a war going inside your head. So many things happening at the same time. And you’re afraid you’re losing.

Let the photo go…

You blankly stare at the photo for another second before, reluctantly dragging your gaze away, to the scattered books. That’s when you notice a second photo peeking out from one of the books.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

Your hand works in autopilot mode when you grab the book and turn it over, dropping at least twenty photos inside it to your lap. You let the photo of you go as you start picking up one by one. Slowly first. Eyes carefully scanning over every single one of them.

You, with Daebi, at the university café.

You, with Hoseok, inside his car.

You, with Jimin….

With Nina….

With some other people, you don’t recognize…

You. You. You.

At your classes.

At your apartment.

At your job.

Library.

You go through the photos as fast as the wind. Your speed builds up with every photo, until one makes you freeze.

It is not you.

A person stands in front of a building you don’t recognize. He is wearing black, head to toe. Even his face is covered in a hoodie. The memories return. Blood. Screams. Light… and a guy. His hands wrapped around you, mumbling sweet nothing in your ear. His hands were covered in blood. His face was covered in a hoodie.

Suddenly, you are sitting in the back of that business class. A meek, nerdy guy next to you. His face hidden, all you can see is a part of his cheek and set of pretty pink lips. Even with the time and all your efforts to drown those memories, you remember him like you’re staring at him.

Lips.

Pretty pink lips.

You even remember the taste of those lips. The warmth of them.

Those lips should’ve faded into memory. The memories should be jumbled. You should only remember the faded bits. But strangely you don’t. Instead, you feel like you’ve seen the same lips yesterday. You feel like those lips were pressed against yours a moment ago.

Pretty pink lips…

Out of nowhere Jungkook’s smile flashes across your mind. The way his lips stretch, making the lip ring glint. The way he bites onto his bottom lip to contain his goofy smile. That adorable, boyish smile.

Haven’t you seen that smile before as well?

The guy who wore that hoodie, that guy who never told you his name, kept his face hidden from you, drugged you, almost killed a person in front of you. Hasn’t he smiled the same way? It was such a rare thing but you’ve seen him smile. And you’ve seen his lips. Is it possible to recognize someone with their lips?

No…. That can’t be. No fucking way.

You gasp for air even though there is nothing keeping you from inhaling. That familiar fear you’ve not experienced for a long time now, shoots across your body, wrapping around your bones, flesh, and skin.

No….

Out of all the fucked up and twisted things in your life, this can’t be one.

You hurriedly throw away the image and pick up the last one. And with that the last threads of hope you hold onto are shredded into million pieces.

It’s an exact similar second image of the previous one. The same person is standing in the same posture in front of the same building. Yet the hood that covered his face had fallen back, revealing his face.

The same face that had greeted you every morning for the past couple months. The face that you always found to be astonishingly handsome. The face that lured you into this trap through that AI app.

It’s the same person. Just far, far younger.

Jeon Jungkook!

Right then, you lose the battle. The sobs and cries you are trying so hard not to let out, escapes you as one loud gasp, followed by uncontrollable tears. Yet before that gasp can turn into loud sobs a familiar voice distracts you.

“Pretty?”

You turn around faster than a bolt of lightning. Your eyes meet with Jungkook who stands in the doorway, scowling, confused. In another time you would’ve been scared for your life. So startled that you start to stutter. This moment, however, you don’t feel anything remotely close to fear. Instead, a rage builds up inside you. A rage that is born from a hurt.

Ridiculous. Why would you be hurt? You should only be angry.

“You motherfucker!” You rush into your feet. Storm toward Jungkook within a blink of an eye. “You fucking lied to me! It was you! It was you all along! You were the prick who ruined my life back then and now….” You screech through your lungs, tears mixing with your enraged words and making your voice crack. “And you lied to me! Every, fucking, person in my life…” You curl your fists into tiny balls, the photo still clutched between your fingers, as you hit Jungkook’s chest. “Everyone… lied to me…” You hit him over and over. Clenching your teeth and pouring all your anger as tears. “I trusted you… And you lied to me too… You fuckingー”

“Pretty, hey, hey…” Jungkook grabs your fists, preventing you from attacking him like a mad cat. You struggle against him the best you can but he holds you tight. “Het, pretty… fuck! Listen to me!”

“I fucking hate you Jeon Jungkook! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hateー” You scream. Jungkook muffles your screams by pulling you into his chest. “I hate you so much.” So, you mumble into his chest, giving up trying to free yourself from his hold. He’s too strong for you.

You should be mad, but what you feel is hurt.

Did you really trust your captor?

“I didn’t lie to you… No, baby, I didn’t.” He mutters into your hair. You don’t give him a reply. Just break into his chest. “I was just a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing.” He continues. “I just wanted a chance to show you that I- I- uh- loved you,” His hold on you tightens. “I’ve always loved you. So damn much. But you were so gone about your pathetic ex, you didn’t even notice me. I had to do something.”

You don’t even know what he’s saying anymore. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing. Yet at the back of your mind, the pieces finally fall into place.

“I won’t accept the defeat this time…”

“You never saw how I always loved you…”

You never paid that much of an attention to those words. Now they make sense.

“Y-you fucking- drugged me… y-you almost let someone toー” You stutter out weakly, only to get cut off.

“I didn’t, did I? I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”

You ignore what he’s saying. “Y-you let me wa-watch a-as you killed a person.”

“He didn’t die.”

As if that would change anything.

“Oh god, why Jungkook? Why me? What did I ever do to you?”

“Don’t say that, pretty. Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook hides his face in your hair. “You have no idea how much I love you… I was just trying. I was a kid,” his voice cracks painfully, and even without looking at him, you get the suspicion that he’s joined you with the crying. “I was trying to win you over and that was a mistake. I’m so sorry, princess, don’t say you hate me. C’mon I deserve a chance. I- I- was trying while your boyfriend was getting his cock sucked by your best friend.”

Your sobs deepen. Jungkook presses kiss after kiss into your hair.

“I’m so sorry baby, but give me a chance… You know I’ll never hurt you. Let me tell you the full story.”

You don’t want to listen to any story. No. You don’t want this pain.

You pull away from his chest despite his reluctance. For a second you peer into his glossy eyes. Then in the next, you pull him into a hungry kiss.

Fuck this!

Fuck your life!

Jungkook is fucking sick. But still, you know he’s painfully in love with you.

If you can’t escape this hell, then you might get used to it.

………………………

At Hoseok’s place

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” Jimin practically throws the tablet away. Luckily it doesn’t hit anything but just drops into the couch.

“What do you want us to do, Jimin?” Deabi shouts across from the living room, hands dramatically thrown in the air.

Hoseok watches wearily as his girlfriend and best friend fight over a matter that’s worth all the fighting.

“Is that even a question, Daebi? That’s your fucking best friend. You give her up that easily?” Jimin says, with a rage Hoseok has only seen once — on that cursed night.

“I’m tired, for God’s sake! I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore.” Daebi slumps her shoulders.

“You’re a fucking coward!” Jimin points a finger at her. Then turns his glare to Hoseok. “You too. You both are fucking cowards. First, you went behind her back and then when she needed you, you just give up?”

“We- we’re not—” Hoseok tries to argue when Jimin stops him.

“Save the fucking excuses, man. I can’t believe you dragged us into this shit as well? I can’t believe you did that to her.” Jimin scoffs. “But guess what? I’m better than you. I’m not fucking giving up.”

“Then what the hell are you going to do?” Hoseok yells for the first time as well. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t want to give up. No. But things have turned to a point where there is no answer for anything. After exactly four months of continuous searching, and no clue, everyone has accepted that you are dead. The case isn’t officially closed yet but the fire it had caused has died down.

One of their good friends who was actively working on the case has informed Hoseok that there might be no hope. And after a year, the case would be officially closing and the court would declare you dead, citing your mental instability. He had asked Hoseok to give up on hope.

Apparently, Jimin isn’t ready to do so. Which is good. Hoseok would be happy to be a part of that. But the question remains. What are they going to do? An unwavering determination without a plan is stupid, which describes Jimin at this moment.

Hoseok knows where Jimin comes from. Jimin used to be a good friend of yours. He met you because of Hoseok and therefore you were always out of reach for him. But maybe if Hoseok never was a part of that equation Jimin should’ve taken your friendship into other levels. Yet life had different plans. And Jimin settled into being that good friend who would travel impossible distances to make sure his friends are okay.

That’s exactly what Jimin is trying to do. You grew apart after your nasty breakup with Hoseok. Hoseok knows that. Mainly because Jimin is Hoseok’s friend and Jimin was ashamed to face you. Then before you could actually become friends again you’ve disappeared.

Then there must be the guilt. Guilt of finally knowing Hoseok and Daebi’s story. They decided to come clean to at least Jimin and Nina after you disappeared. They wanted a way to ease their consciousness, even when they knew it wasn’t going to go well. Just as expected, Jimin was ready to murder them both. Disappointed. So was Nina. Jimin even stopped talking to Hoseok, until he sent the text on the group chat today.

The very reason why Jimin barged in.

“I don’t know… maybe trying to convince your detective friend not to give up so easily. It’s just fucking four months.” Jimin grits.

Technically, it’s turning five in a week. And Hoseok can’t do such a thing. He is friends with a detective who was happy to take over your case. Friends. That’s the word. He is not a boss.

“Jimin-ah…” Hoseok sighs, not knowing exactly how to explain to his friend that this is out of his control.

Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. “What? You can’t? Of course, you can’t.” He takes a threatening step toward Hoseok. “Well, you know what Hoseok? It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t. I fucking bet you two,” he gestures between Hoseok and Daebi. “Are actually fucking happy that she went missing.” Jimin spits out making Hoseok’s eyes widen.

What now?

And making it worse Jimin adds more to his nonsense with a low voice. “Maybe, you’re the reason why she—”

Jimin doesn’t get to finish the sentence when Hoseok practically jumps at him, grabbing from his shirt with both hands.

“What the fuck did you say?” Hoseok screeches. Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the sudden impact.

“Oh god, will you guys stop… we’re friends.” Before Jimin can answer Hoseok, Daebi meddles, trying to part the two friends who are about to strangle each other.

“Friends?” Jimin shakes Hoseok’s hands off him, scoffing. “I don’t see any friends here. In fact, I’m not your friend Daebi.” With that he throws a final glare at Hoseok. Turns around. “Enjoy. Get engaged. Hell, get married so we can throw a party.” Says before walking away and disappears through the front door.

A heavy silence falls over.

“I’m so disappointed in you guys.” After a minute, Nina, who’s been so quiet and pale, mumbles weakly.

Then she too walks slowly over to the front door.

……………………………………..

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#perfect partner #bts yandere #yandere bts #jungkook yandere #yandere #bts smut #smut bts #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #bts angst #bts mini series

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biteyoubiteme · 2 days ago

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You dont get how excited i was seeing that you posted this fic ive read it like three times and i realized i never reblogged it im sorry ;--;; but i LOVE this fic okay i love it sm you have no idea The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result: Second. Fucking. Place. Like just from the start im so hooked-

“Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.” Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. When i tell you i giggle and love love love love love rivals to lovers so much like the cockieness that can only be reached with rivals just heals something in me and this did just that i love it uuuuuggghhh

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.” “Yeah, like a nasty mould.” im giggling and kicking my feet over this i love them ><

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night. Jumping around my room rn you cant see it but believe it-

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club. How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE ABOUT HOW PRETTY BEOMGYU IS

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before. Okay but im on the edge of my seat over this race like its irl and i dont know whats going to happen like i love it sm

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him. THE RIVALS ARE BEING RIVALS AND I LOVE IT ITS MAKING MY BITE MY FIST AND KICK MY FEET BEHIND ME LIKE IM SO SAT AND OBSESSED WITH THEM-

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands. And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal. EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK ><

but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face. APOLOGIZE TO HIM AND ME FOR THIS ENDING EVIL!!! (i love this fic sm)

☆ Drive you mad !

genre: racer au, smut, e2l, rivals , crack

Pairings: sub ! race car driver ! beomgyu x dom ! gn race car driver reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: kinda public sex, bratty beomgyu, sub beomgyu, grinding/palming, edging, creampie, riding, hand job, degrading, sex in a car, clubbing, alcohol, hair pulling, tit sucking, use of names ‘good boy’, ‘whore’

Word count: 4.7k

The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result:

Second. Fucking. Place.

You grit your teeth, rather aggressively slamming the door shut, and getting out of the car. Yanking off your helmet, you storm over to where Kang Taehyun, your ever-calm, teammate, was leaning casually against the pit wall, sipping on his water bottle from the last round he had just raced himself. You on the other hand, are seconds away from combusting.

“Fuck him.” You seethe and grumble, arms crossed as both of your gazes switch to focus on Choi Beomgyu in the centre, soaking up the spotlight a few metres away, gesturing animatedly for the cameras with sparkling eyes, a stupid smirk and very satisifed look on his face as he tucked his helmet under one arm. He’s surrounded and swarmed by reporters with god knows how many microphones shoved in his face who hang onto his every single word like he was some goddamn deity.

He basks in it, always loved the attention. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to win every race solely for the purpose of being met with cameras and praises at the end. It’s like he got off on that shit. Attention seeker.

“What a fucking nepo baby.” You scoff and taehyun laughs, always amused for your hate towards Choi Beomgyu. But it was true, he was only here because his father was a famous legendary racer back in the day, his racing career practically gift wrapped by him at a young age. Choi Beomgyu had everything handed to him on a silver platter whilst you had to claw your way through to get where you are now. But, it seems to be that you’re the only one who has a problem with him. Everyone else adores him, the 'golden boy'.

“Oh—hehe. Stop it. Thank you! Yeah, honestly it’s all about hard work.” You hear him gush and chuckle in faux shyness and humbleness, waving his hand dismissively, eyes shaped into little crescent moons and running a hand through his long soft brown hair. “But I don’t think I’m that good personally heh.”

You can’t help how hard your eyes roll at that, muttering more insults under your breath only taehyun can hear who's certainly more than entertained. “Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. The audacity. You have half the mind of walking over there and strangling him right in front of the cameras. That surely wouldn’t end your career right? Or worse yet, put you in prison.

As the crowd around him finally disperses and fizzles out, Beomgyu confidently saunters over to you and taehyun, helmet still tucked under his arm and still grinning annoyingly.

“Oh no.” Taehyun chuckles, throwing a knowing look your way and nodding to the direction of beomgyu, “Incoming.”

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, taking a big breath in, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite fan.” Beomgyu’s grin widens as he reaches you, snickering. He ignores your scoff in return, turning to taehyun instead with a smile and clapping his back. “Hey, Tae. Drinks after this? A bunch of us are going.”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congrats on first place today by the way.” Taehyun replies giving him a bro hug. To this day, you still can’t understand how taehyun can stand him. But Beomgyu has a lot of friends, and like you said, you really are the only one who dislikes him.

“How can you even hang out with him?” You make the most disgusted face you can muster towards Beomgyu to show the pure utter hatred you feel to him.

Beomgyu practically puffs out his chest, already expecting to be backed up and stood up against by taehyun.

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.”

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

Beomgyu deflates, taking great offence, mouth hanging open and frowning, pouting at the both of you now laughing and high-fiving each other.

Beomgyu’s intense gaze then returns back to you. Taehyun, addressing the situation, and knowing how both your bantering can escalate, sees it’s best to leave, walking away to leave you alone with the cockroach. “Right, so as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to go now…preferably anywhere else...”

“What about you, y/n? No congratulations?” Beomgyu mocks and sighs boastfully once Taehyun has left. His voice dripping with that sickeningly playful lilt that always makes your blood boil. “No heartfelt speech on how I inspire you to be better? But hey, second place isn’t so bad.”

You narrow your eyes, standing up straight. “You won by, like,” you scoff, “a millisecond at best. Don’t get all cocky. It was just pure luck.”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, come on, I didn’t think you were such a sore loser. It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” you repeat incredulously, “The only strategy you have is relying on your last name to get you ahead.”

“God, you’re still on that? I feel like you’re just using that as an excuse to use still. Just admit I’m as good as you. Better, even. I’ve won one more race than you now~”

The two of you kept a tally of how many races you both have won, you’ve had the same exact score as him for ages now, obviously, not anymore. But you’ll win next time, just he waits.

He takes a step closer to you, waiting and expecting you to make a snarky comeback at him like you always do as you angrily stare him down and he does the same.

For a second, just one second, your eyes flicker down to his lips and suddenly, you’re brought back to an incident that occurred a few months ago. A memory you’ve tried—and failed—to forget.

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night.

⸝⸝

THE SAID AWFULLY UNLUCKY NIGHT YOU AND CHOI BEOMGYU MADE OUT:

The nightclub was packed with racers, sponsors, and fans celebrating the after party of a big end of season race, air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. You nursed your drink, leaning against the bar.

Of course, Beomgyu was at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of admirers, his laughter ringing out over the music. He was never hard to spot, the centre of attention always.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, taking another sip of your drink.

“And you’re still staring?” Taehyun had teased, sitting beside you.

"I’m not staring.” You snapped, rolling your eyes. "I’m wondering how he manages to be so insufferable and stupid all the time."

“Sure,” Taehyun stifles a laugh, raising his glass to you. “Just don’t kill each other before the next race.”

You down the last of your drink, slamming it on the bar counter and ordering another, “Can’t promise that.”

The rest of the night is a blur to you. Too many drinks, too many spinning lights, and far too much proximity to Beomgyu.

You’re not one to get shitfaced drunk. You prefer the comfortable state of slight tipsiness and anything other than that is not fun for you, because why would someone want to be so drunk off their ass to the point of throwing up and not being aware of their surroundings? Usually, you’d chastise people like that, wondering how they can’t even manage how much they drink. But on that night, you’d had one too many to count, you were drunk, too drunk. Not the comfortable tipsiness that you’re used to.

You know that at one point, either you or Beomgyu had come up to the other and the normal bickering had ensued. You know he was just as drunk as you so whatever you both were arguing about probably made no sense at all.

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club.

How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes.

He looked different that night, too. Not the usual racing suit and helmet, but a stylish black suit with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver necklace glinting against his skin.

All in all, beomgyu was a pretty boy. You get why he had a lot of fans.

He was still going on about something to you, slurring his words, probably insulting you, and the only logical solution to shut him up in your inebriated state at that moment, was to kiss his pouty lips. Luckily, you both were at the very corner of the nightclub shrouded in darkness, everyone else too busy dancing and whatnot to see you both.

You remember him gasping when you grabbed the collar of his black shirt, yanking him down and pressing your lips aggressively against his, but he kissed you back almost instantly, without a second thought.

You weren’t very gentle with him, pushing him forcefully against the wall even further and tugging at his necklace. The way you were making out with him was just pouring out all your anger you’ve felt towards him for years. But, he just let you. He let you do anything to him and you were surprised, so different to the cocky and confident beomgyu you knew. And that sheer control he let you have over him for once felt so good, you didn’t want to stop.

That, and the fact Choi Beomgyu was also just really good at kissing, he made it so difficult to pull away at all, lips so soft and plump and addictive, making you want more and more and more.

But, you never spoke an utterance of it afterwards, he never brought it up, neither did you. And honestly, it felt so surreal, making out with the Choi Beomgyu, the one who you no doubtedly hate his guts and him kissing you back so pliantly? You’d believe it more if it was all just a hallucination. You were so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up, dreamt it even. Maybe it was someone else you made out with and you were so drunk you can’t remember. It’d make more sense than Choi Beomgyu.

Although, you do find yourself thinking about the makeout session often times than not, his lips on yours just felt so good. Too good. It was like, the best makeout you’ve had in your life and you curse it for being him. Why he had to be the one whose lips you still thought about? you don’t know. You’re certain he had forgotten and you wish you could have just like he seemed to.

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Beomgyu is still sneering at you, awaiting your comeback but you can’t think well at the moment.

Your face heats, and you shove past him. “Go to hell, Choi.”

And his laughter follows behind you as you walk away. Oh, how he infuriates you.

You have one goal: beat Choi Beomgyu. Today is the day you finally get to race against him again. He’d held that last victory over your head, taunting you endlessly, with that invigorating, stupid smirk of his and you’d had more than enough. Today was your chance to shut him up and kick his ass. You’ll put him in his place and win. You’d been waiting for this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another thrilling showdown! All eyes are on the two front runners y/n and Choi Beomgyu. These rivals have been neck and neck all season. Beomgyu won the last race but will he win again? Will today decide who’s truly on top?” The commentator’s voices boom over the loudspeakers.

The flagman waves the green flag, you slam on the gas pedal and you’re off, surging forward.

It wasn’t an easy race, beomgyu seemed motivated to win too. He was always either just ahead or just behind, not far enough for it be satisfactory, but nail bitingly tense, as anything could happen any moment. And right now, ahead, just barely, was him, blocking every attempt you made to overtake him.

“Y/n’s looking for an opening,” the commentators shout. “But Beomgyu’s defensive driving is flawless so far. Look at that precision!”

Loud noises of the engines are all you can hear, filling your ears as you manoeuvre around sharp turns, tires screeching against the asphalt. The laps all blur together but you’re nearing the end now.

You managed to get alongside him on the straight, your cars almost touching, crowd going wild as you both enter the next corner side by side, dangerously close.

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

Suddenly, beomgyu’s car swerves towards yours, bumping and hitting at yours with such force, a dirty, blatant attempt at running you off the track and then he overtakes you. You gasp, fighting to stabilise your car, narrowly avoiding a spin. That was a new low, even for Choi Beomgyu. He’d never cheated like that before and you’re absolutely enraged.

The last stretch looms ahead and he’s just razor thin ahead of you, in the last second, you see your opening. Beomgyu had oversteered slightly on the turn, just enough for you to slip past him, you speed ahead.

“AND Y/N TAKES THE WIN IN A SPECTACULAR FINISH! THEY’VE DONE IT! WHAT A RACE!”

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

Everyone erupts, but your satisfaction is short-lived. Beomgyu’s cheating had completely soured your victory. The fucking nerve of him.

You barely register the reporters swarming you, bombarding your face with microphones. “Y/n! how does it feel to take first place?!”

“An incredible performance today, what was going through your mind?!”

The post race interview is a haze of forced smiles and generic answers. You’re barely listening as the reporters barrage you with questions. You’re still so pissed off at Beomgyu.

When it’s finally over, you make your way to the garage and that’s where you spot him leaning casually against his car, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. You clench your fists, blood boiling as you storm over to him. He’d crossed the line, well, not literally this time, but definitely fucking figuratively.

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him.

“You intentionally tried to cause a collision with me. You should have been penalised. I don’t know how you weren’t!”

“Yeah, and you still won. So why are you even mad?” He crosses his arms and shrugs, ridiculing you. “If you can’t handle that maybe you should switch to something lighter like go karting instead.”

"Can’t handle?!" You splutter, looking at him in pure disbelief, your voice rising. "You arrogant, nepotistic, spoilt brat!-” Each insult punctuated with a sharp poke to his chest and, yet he still finds it all funny, bursting out into laughter at you.

And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal.

The kissing becomes heated fast, sounds of your mouths smacking filling the echoing garage as he lets you take over his mouth completely, letting you bite and pull at his bottom lip, emitting soft little gasps at this.

Even for the second time, it was disorienting seeing Beomgyu like this, nothing like the beomgyu you knew on the track or in the spotlight, and now with no alcohol in your system, neither of you could even blame whatever was going on right now on that. It’s all too intoxicating. It takes everything in you to pull back for air.

You push him against his car with more force than necessary, and Beomgyu stumbles slightly before sitting down on the top of the hood. His eyes are blown wide, flustered as you stand between his splayed legs, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, him responding immediately. This is how you like him. Your kisses trail down his jaw and the column of his neck, when you suck on his adam’s apple, he lets out a sharp intake and gasp, tilting his head back to give you more access, he already seems worked up from just a few kisses. Was his neck really that sensitive?

When your hand slides down to palm him through his trousers, his breath hitches and his jaw goes slack. “Oh…b-but we’re in public…” his cheeks flush a deep red and he protests weakly, plump lips all swollen and glossy and wet from the intense making out.

You raise a brow. “So you want me to stop?” You keep grinding your palm against his very hard length now, sucking on his neck and he shudders and whines cutely, very clearly enjoying it.

“W-wait no….” So you continue, he’s panting as you palm him, rutting into your hand himself. You pull back just enough to look at him, so dumb and lost in pleasure, lips parted with soft breathy moans and gasps as he chases the small friction you give him, his brows knitting together.

You roll your eyes at the sight of him, “Trying to run me off the track? You’re pathetic, beomgyu.”

“Pathetic?” He scoffs, still having the nerve to act like a brat when it’s all crumbling. “h-hah, if anyone’s pathetic it’s you—s-shit y/n—please. I need more, please.” Completely contradicting himself, because if there was only one word to describe him exactly right now, it would be pathetic.

“Admit it. Say you’re nothing but a dirty cheater first.”

“You wish.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you like this. All hard and horny.”

He hesitates, scowling, debating whether or not to challenge you, but when you stop all contact of palming and kissing his neck, starting to step away, he caves in.

“Wait!” He blurts, grasping at your wrist, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m…fine. Fine! I’m nothing but a dirty a cheater...” His face burns, embarrassed, humiliated, his pride hurt. The admission sends a thrill through you, he’s always been so full of himself, but now he’s just a needy pathetic mess for you. You’re having so much fun.

You grin. “Aw. What a good boy.” You coo sarcastically. The words have an instant effect on him though, whole body tensing and cheeks blooming into an even more impossibly vivid red and he whines, hands clutching at your hips to bring you back as he still sits pliantly on the hood of his car.

You unzip his pants, flushed pretty cock already leaking, slapping at his tummy and you brush your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there slowly, watching his reaction and he looks down at the action himself, drawing out a helpless shudder and whimper from him. He groans, eyes half lidded when you wrap your hand around his cock, moving up and down with a deliberate slowness that makes his breath hitch every few seconds and whine.

“God, you’re so easy, beomgyu. Are you this much of a whore all the time?” You murmur and tease, dragging your teeth over his cute earlobe, ears all red, feeling him shiver.

“Shut”, he whimpers cutely, “up. I-i could…ah…fuck you stupid right now.” He retaliates or attempts to, but his hands grip the edge of the hood like he’s barely holding himself upright.

You laugh. “Oh, really? Because you look pretty wrecked already.” He was so fucked out right now, you wonder if he’d even be able to take it when you actually fuck him.

He’s still trying to keep up the pretense of resistance. “I’m not wrecked. You’re—” You pump his cock at a ruthless pace, jerking him off fast, occasionally toying with the slit on the head of cock and his body goes limp under you touch, moaning out prettily and loudly, eyes squeezing shut and panting, chest heaving. He clings to you now, head buried in your neck, practically drooling, body jerking with every stroke. He still attempts to bite back at you but they come out as dumb babbles and mumbles of nonsense, mewling and gasping, completely at your mercy.

Beomgyu whines and moans deliriously. “F-fuck! Oh—need to cum. C-can’t.” He removes his head from your neck to look up at you with glossy doe eyes, so wrecked and hanging on by a thread. You move your hand up and down his dick unrelentingly and before he’s just about to cum, you pull your hand off him.

The pained, frustrated cry that escapes him is deliciously pathetic. His hips jerk into the air desperately to chase the sensation, but it’s long gone now. He looks at you in shock, eyes wide in utter betrayal and devastation, and now wet with tears of frustration. But then he frowns and scowls, annoyed he didn’t get to cum. “What the fuck was that for?” He pouts.

“I could think of a lot honestly. But, don’t you want to cum inside me?”

His jaw hangs open. “Please. Yes.” Beomgyu breathes out, nodding fervently and looking at you with puppy eyes, pupils dilating and dazed at the thought alone.

Sliding off the hood, beomgyu takes your hand like an obedient puppy, and you open the car door. He sits in his driver’s seat, his flushed face tilted up to watch you as you climb onto his lap. You rid yourself of your own clothes, watching as his gaze drops immediately to your bare tits, breath catching and lips parting as he stares, seemingly captivated. He’s so stupid.

You grab his dick and use the head to rub your clit, making him let out little stuttered gasps, sliding him over your entrance and folds a few times before you sink slowly down completely. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed as he groans, sucking in air and throwing his head back, grasping at your waist, furrowing his brows and mouth in an ‘o’ shape, you beginning to ride him.

It’s so hot and cramped and sweaty in the car now as you bounce on his dick continuously, being able to hear the obscene slapping and sticky noises so loudly. Beomgyu looks in a state of absolute, pure bliss, moaning like a bitch, mind all fogged up and mushy at the feeling of your pussy, his messy damp bangs falling into his eyes so all you can see is his very glistening round lips, still in that sustained ‘o’ shape, just so dumbed and fucked out.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, thick doll-like lashes fluttering. If only everyone else could see Choi Beomgyu like this right now. It feels so empowering and satisfying after all these years of him being so infuriating. You love how, despite his attempts at being bratty, he’s so docile and such a simple whore.

You tangle your hands in his hair and tug and pull every so often, which he clearly very likes if the high and strained moans are anything to show for this. His hands squeeze at your tits when it feels too good for him. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over it and sucking and kissing as he looks up at you with his big brown eyes. When you deliberately clamp your pussy tightly around him, he moans out your name in response, muffled from him still sucking your tits needily, body slightly jerking.

“You remember, don’t you?—at the club?” You ask, although it was probably obvious by now.

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, popping his wet droolly mouth off your boobs, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to look at you, nodding vigorously, “of course I remember…l-liked it.” You cup his cheek again, kissing beomgyu hard, hands still tangled in his hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he moans softly against your lips. “Oh god, m’ sso close. Can I cum?”

You nod, kissing him some more, “Cum for me, beomie.”

“Holyy s-shitt—” Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head, squeezing one of your tits as if for support, his back arches, his tongue lolling out dumbly, whole body trembling and shaking. You bring one of your hands to your clit, rubbing and riding yourself on him harder. With a choked off scream, he spills so much of his cum inside you, and the gorgeous sight brings you over the edge too, cumming as well.

He doesn’t pull out though, burying his face in your neck, gasping for air, groaning and clinging to you tightly, he’s still shuddering and you can feel little spurts of his cum still dribbling in you, pussy completely milking him.

The two of you sat in the car still afterwards in a slightly awkward silence. Both of you panting, trying to come down from your highs, left to fully take in what had just happened and also how thoughtless it was. Fucking Choi beomgyu in the garage? You’re incredibly lucky no one walked in. It wasn’t even like both of you were trying to be quiet either, none of that running through your mind at that moment. What if someone had heard?

Beomgyu, for once, was quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a dazed expression, so far gone. He leans slowly towards you though, looking as if he was about to kiss you again.

“This…this doesn’t mean anything by the way.” You mutter, beginning to button up your shirt.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hands through his hair. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t. At all.” You roll your eyes, trying not to freak out, you open the car door, wanting more than anything to just get out. You walk away, leaving him there, disheveled and barely clothed, still slumped in the driver’s seat. And you don’t see it, but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face.

A/n: happy new year !!<3 please give this lots of love it was such a bitch to write idk why but I really struggled with this 😭 also I’m so sorry to all the racing fans if makes no sense, I just made up my own kind of racing competition thing. Also the cars do not look anything like f1 cars 😭 more kind of like the nascar ones so they can actually fuck in it 😭 idk bro. I know no nothing about cars or racing. Also I’m sorry if the smut seems rushed and messy, I haven’t edited it and I was lowkey rushing to get this out

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

#cams!bookshelf #I LOVE BEOMGYU SM

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 days ago

Text

ACROSS THE GLOBE

A/N: nan and harry are back!!! it was def time to give them the love they deserve! enjoy this cute little piece from their life!

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: It's Nan's birthday and Harry wouldn't miss it, not even if he has to come home from Japan.

MORE FROM THE NAN&HARRY UNIVERSE

Summer stretches long this year, September is gifting you with another warm weekend before the cold sweeps its claws across the meadows behind Nan’s house. But for now, it’s still warm enough to fill her garden with chatter and laughter as you celebrate her birthday.

One of your uncles is on grilling duty, the adults are gathered on the terrace mostly while the grandchildren are making the best out of how great Nan’s backyard is for hide&seek. Though the Sun has started dipping lower, the sky turning orangier with each passing minute, you still have about an hour of daylight.

With your emptied out cake plate you make your way inside with the intention of washing the plate so you could at least feel like you did something to help, but since you’ve arrived everyone has made it their shared goal to stop you from even lifting a finger. Well into the seventh month of your pregnancy you do feel like some activities take a lot more effort and energy from you, but you refuse to give in to the helplessness, though needless to say that Harry is also part of the let’s-stop-YN-from-doing-literally-anything team. You can only sneak off now because everyone is busy with Nan showing off her new gardening set she just got as a present.

Your belly is big enough that you have to turn your hips as you lean over to wash the plate so you can actually reach the sink without your navel poking into the stream of water. The clock next to the fridge on the wall tells you that Harry should be here any minute. It’s a complete surprise for Nan, she thinks he is still in Japan and can’t make it home for her birthday. What’s more, she specifically told him not to rearrange his plans just for him.

“Oh Son, I’m planning to have a few more birthdays, you’ll come to those! Just go and do your thing!” she told him on the phone and you saw the smirk on Harry’s face, because he already had the tickets to come back for the get together.

He would never miss an occasion to celebrate Nan.

Once the plate is washed and dried, your attention is averted by the cupcakes that are left on the counter. You tell yourself you’ve had enough sugar for the both of you and baby, but just one more cupcake can’t hurt…

So you’re way too busy with the icing that smears on your nose to notice the opening of the front door and when two very familiar hands sneak around your belly from behind, you jump a little, like you just got caught red handed, but then quickly melt into Harry’s arms, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Can I get a bite?” he murmurs, kissing your cheek and gently biting the skin as well, making you giggle while his hands are continuously rubbing your belly, something he’s been obsessed with since you popped. He never not takes an opportunity to touch the stretched skin, feel a little kick or talk to his little princess.

That’s what he’s been calling the baby ever since you found out the gender by a cake made by none other than Nan. You still remember the excitement on Nan’s face before you were about to cut into the cake she made as the only person knowing the gender other than your obgyn. The pink filling poured out right when the knife sliced through the white outside and everyone gasped and cheered at once as the secret Nan had been keeping was revealed. A moment you’ll never forget.

You hold out the cupcake for him over your shoulder and he cranes his neck to get a bite, the icing getting on his nose as well and you’re quick to turn your head and kiss it off before turning in his arms all together.

“Hi,” he smiles at you warmly, his hands slipping to your waist, under your jumper, to your back to rub your back gently.

“Hi,” you return the smile.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you sweetly.

“Both of us?”

“Of course,” he grins, stealing another kiss before leaning down and pressing one on your belly as well. “Everything alright?” he asks from your belly, waiting for an answer from you.

“Yeah, everything is great, especially now that daddy’s here.” Smiling, you run a hand through his hair before he straightens up and with a soft hum he kisses you again, this time a little deeper, more passionately.

You’ve learned that Harry just really loves when you call him that. Early in your pregnancy he was quite anxious, always worried about how he would take up on the role of being a father, but he overcome that by the time you entered the second trimester, a sense of confidence appeared in his mindset and he took a full turn, owning the situation that this is truly happening, he is about to become a father. He’s been loving every hint about that since then, loving being the father figure, loving being a caretaker for not just you, but his little princess as well.

“Let’s surprise Nan,” you smile at him once you pull away.

“Brought her flowers, let me get them from the car quickly. You just go out and pretend like nothing is happening,” he grins, though he knows everyone will notice the change in you, you can’t help it, this is Harry’s effect on you.

You part ways, Harry jogs out to his car and you return outside, taking your previous spot.

“Where were you?” your mom asks.

“Just washed my plate.”

“Y/N! We’re gonna load the washing machine!” Nan tells you off, but you just laugh it off.

“I’m just pregnant, my hands aren’t falling off.”

“Just sit and enjoy!” one of your aunts orders and a moment later you have a plate full of food in front of you, even though you’ve already devoured so much you ate more than everyone else combined.

“What’s that smirk?” your mom questions, leaning closer to you.

“What smirk?” you ask innocently.

“That smirk on your face. What’s going on?”

“What happened?” Nan joins in on the conversation, her eyes moving back and forth between you and your mom with a puzzled look.

“Nothing happened! I’m literally just sitting here, being pregnant!” you chuckle and Nan is about to question you again when her eyes move to a figure behind you, pure shock taking over her face.

“Oh you!” she gasps, her hands covering her mouth as she rounds the table and walks over to Harry, who just appeared with a big bouquet of flowers.

“Happy birthday, Nan!” he grins as Nan takes his face between her chunky, wrinkled hands, pulling it down so she can kiss both his cheeks before hugging him tight.

“What are you doing here?”

“You think I would ever miss your birthday?” he chuckles, winking at you over Nan’s shoulder as she is still hugging him.

“Told you not to bother! You don’t have to travel across the globe for an old lady!”

“It’s not a bother, Nan,” he smiles once she lets go of him. “This is for you,” he hands her the beautiful bouquet and Nan’s eyes are sparkling as she takes the flowers and takes a closer look.

“Thank you dear. Thank you so much.” She kisses his cheek once more before moving back to the table.

Harry disappears for a moment, you look for him confused, but then he reemerges with another bouquet, a smaller one as he approaches you.

“And this is for my beautiful girls,” he murmurs as he leans down and kisses you on the lips softly.

“Ah Harry!” you pout at him, touched that he thought of you as well, even though that’s all he ever does.

He pulls a chair over next to you and settles, one hand instantly coming to grab yours, fingers lacing together in your lap.

“How was Japan?” one of your uncles asks as Harry is offered a beer, but he refuses. He hasn’t drank alcohol since you found out you’re pregnant.

“Great, it’s always a good time.”

“Are you going back?” Nan asks with a worried look. You open your mouth, ready to say that yes, Harry will be heading back for another week in two days, but he is quicker.

“No. This was my last trip for a long while.”

“What?” The surprise on your face is obvious, this is new even to you. As far as you knew, after Japan he still had to make a trip to Italy.

Harry turns to you with a smile as he shrugs.

“Moved things around a bit. I’m staying home.”

A tear runs down your cheek as you lean over and kiss him gratefully. You never told him you’d rather have him home with you in the last two months before the baby arrives, but it was definitely on your mind, you just never wanted to be like the kind of partner who tells him what to do when he is fully capable of making his own decisions.

And he always makes the best ones, this is proof of that as well.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your word lost for everyone else in the chatter around you, but Harry hears them loud and clear.

“Love you too,” he smiles into the kiss before pulling back and joining in on the conversation .

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #nan and harry #the nan and harry universe

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eveysnotebook · 18 hours ago

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batboys when they have a crush on you ♡

sorry I know it’s more batboy stuff 💔 I swear hal n barry lovers I will return soon

summary: the batboys have a crush on you, this is how I think they’d act!!

Jason Todd:

if you send him somthing that makes his heart really truly fly, and sends butterflies to his stomach, he’ll take a screenshot so he can look at it later .

yaps about you to his friends without really realizing how much he is talking about you.

he craves you but thinks he isn’t worth it at the same time

he usually waits for you to reach out and call or text him, it’s not that he isn’t interested! he’s too interested really, he just doesn’t want to interrupt you.

I think Jason has a journal/diary and he most definitely writes about you in there, alongside little doodles of you.

Dick Grayson:

he follows your social media and is almost always the first to heart and comment on your posts, he always comments somthing sweet and funny.

he randomly shows up at your house / apartment with coffee or whatever drink or snack you’d enjoy.

he tries to show off and impress you but it’s really obvious that he’s showing off.

“aww you have a puppy?” you ask when you see the home screen on his phone “yeahh wanna meet her?”

he thanks haley for being the reason to spend more time with you ♡

Tim Drake:

this freak is texting you all the time, either checking in, sending memes or just trying t make small talk. he’s so awkward it’s cute

he randomly shows up at your place late into the night asking if you’d wanna go skate or sit on the roof and stargaze.

he listens to all of your favorite bands, looks into all your favorite media and info dumps about it to you, hoping to make you think he also is very into whatever you like.

homework helper yes yes yes, he always offers to help with homework or anything you need help with. you always score A’s on those tests and homework sheets.

he gets so flustered and awkward around you- adverting your gaze, fidgeting with his hands and not being able to stand still for a second, and he always tries to act cool before meeting up with you

he is boy failure, absolute flop

hey can you tell I like tim drake???

i am obsessed with these cat pngs pls have a good day and eat somthing yummy

#tim drake i love you #eveys writing #not proofread #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd headcanons #jason todd fluff #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake headcanon #tim drake fluff #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader

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pearlescentparade · 2 days ago

Note

may I ,,, request ,,, 007n7 fluff w sprinkles of angst and a possibly obsessive killer!reader ,, borderline yandere

kinda a mixture of "this is a Murderer" but also yearning for the affection after being so outcast for so long from 07,, not knowing whether to pull away or give in idk.

iiii don't know how specific I should get ! but,, cuddling, smothering his ass ,,,,,,,,

first yandere request on the list TIME TO GET EVIL

evil ass reader also warning this ended up being more angsty than requester asked so actually its more of a truckload of angst with a sprinkle of fluff

guilty pleasure 🍔 007n7 x obsessive killer reader "fluff" + angst 💝❤️‍🩹

there's that feeling again, returning like an old friend.

that feeling that he is committing an abhorrently and inherently wrong act, yet 007n7 cannot find it in him to stop.

back then, in his days of exploiting, he never stopped. why would he? there was no shame in it. it was all good fun to a careless god-player.

he had no shame.

now, he has an abundance.

he's never been one for religion. he knew his terrorism disqualified him from salvation. but this.. situation, he thought, could be the karma finally catching up to him. that, or 007n7 just cannot ween himself off of immorality, even when he's turning a new leaf. old habits do die hard, after all.

you nuzzle into him as if he's some oversized teddy bear, digging your nose into his hair and inhaling his scent. it's musky, you can tell he's neglected showering for the last few days. but in comparison to someone like you who is constantly bathed in the stench of blood, he smells like high-end perfume that you'd love to drench every inch of yourself in.

he repulses a bit, a grimace flashing across his face at your outward sappiness. though, it's only seconds before he hesitantly snuggles up again, unable to withstand the loss of contact he himself created. it's rare for him to come across someone—or something, would be a more appropriate word to describe you—so willing to touch him, love him no less. beggars can't be choosers, he supposes, so he ought to cherish every disgusting drop of whatever this is. it fits him.

however, 007n7's mind is thrown into equivocation again when the horrifically unpleasant aroma of iron pierces his senses.

how could he forget? you are stained with the blood of his peers and other innocent victims infinite times over, so much so that it has been ingrained on your very being. was he that desperate that he'd take love from even the deranged? no, he was better than this-!

he firmly pushes off of you with both his arms and feet, intent on breaking out of this intimate cage you've trapped him in. a strangled grunt escapes from his throat as he struggles.

his effort works for a moment, your eyes widening as your grip falters. though, it takes only seconds before you capture him back in your arms again. even with his motivated resolve and advantage of the element of surprise, 007n7 is fairly weak, and it's laughable how easy it is to overpower him.

"oh 7, you scared me.. where did you think you were going?" you coo, cradling him like a child. even if he did manage to break free, you know he would not be able to get far. you're lucky you chose someone so unathletic.

007n7 still kicks and screams. he attempts to wrench your hands off of him as he splutters, "let- let go of me..!" his clothes angrily rustle as he twists, shoves, writhes. some specks of blood from your claimed lives have rubbed off on his lovely blue shirt.

despite his sudden outburst, your voice is patronizing, oozing with a doting urge, as if he is simply crying for your attention, "aw, did i squeeze you too hard?" you gently caress the side of his cheek with the side of your finger, "i'm sowwyyyy, i'll be more gen-"

"you're a filthy mu-murderer!! get- away....!"

in the split second that he lets that word leave his throat, your sweet face drops into a empty frown.

oh. so that's what this fit is about.

007n7 feels a cold pang strike his heart upon your dark expression, his previous anger being rapidly displacing with a flood of fear. yet what scares him even more is your lack of action. no sudden jerky movements with the intent to kill, no growling or other signs of rage, simply a look. that is the scariest wrath of all.

his wide, shaking eyes follow the movement of your claw, which slowly inches towards his face until you cup it in a swift and deft motion. it's not harsh, but it is sudden. and it is enough to make him think he'll die. you can feel his pulse thumping heavily through his soft flesh, undeniably afraid.

he can only watch as you lean in close, positioning yourself near his ear.

"you too."

you couldn't have stated it any more plainer. it was a simple statement, like wishing for a someone to also have a good day. yet, when you pull away, his face is completely pale, shrunken pupils painted with terror. he looks as if he'd seen a ghost, perhaps one from his past.

defeated and miserable, 007n7 does nothing as you hold him close again, in a silent understanding that he could only ever be loved by monsters like him.

nothing, aside for a shaky hand gingerly placing itself on your bloody back.

(parade postscript: i need to stop being illiterate and follow the requests more closely sob)

#sfw #007n7 x reader #007n7 forsaken x reader #forsaken x reader #roblox x reader

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arkhamsknightz · 3 days ago

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STARLIGHT // SUPERMAN HEADCANONS. CLARK KENT & JOURNALIST!READER.

content: just fluff, pure pure fluff. It's the biggest vomit of love lmao im sorry but i'm in love at this time so deal with it. I don't dare to write smut yet (i'm very rusty lol), + we don't accept snyder fans!clark here — sorry not sorry — this is the clark who would rescue a kitten from a tree so....

word count: 0,4k (almost 500 words)

notes: i'm testing the waters in the dc fandom, even though it's been too long since I've written in it, but the superman trailer is my new obsession and I can't wait for july. the brat summer hits hard, but the superman summer hits harder.

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

☆ You keep pretending not to notice when he leaves your apartment, and five minutes later "Superman" shows up to make sure you got home safe from your late assignment.

☆ Clark literally melts whenever you call him "Superman" in a teasing tone. like—he’s supposed to be the man of steel, but his knees go weak the second you smirk and say, “What’s the plan now, Superman?"

☆ You learned pretty quickly that dating the man of tomorrow comes with random date night interruptions. But he always makes it up to you. Like one time he flew in from stopping a train derailment with pastries from Paris and an "I'm sorry I missed our dinner" post-it stuck to your laptop".

☆ He’s so soft for you. Like, he’ll listen to you rant about Lex Luthor and his stupid company for an hour and then say, “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” with the most adoring look in his eyes.

☆ He's ridiculously good at remembering everything. birthdays, deadlines, how you take your coffee, and your favourite quote. He once quoted your own article back to you when you were doubting yourself, and you cried. He freaked out. tried to fly to get flowers or something.

☆ One time you tried to surprise him by bringing him lunch to the Daily Planet, and he got so flustered he nearly knocked over his desk. “You... you brought me food?” He blinked like krypto when he acts like never been fed before. Now he talks about it like it was a grand romantic gesture and not just an stupid sandwich.

☆ You once told him, half-asleep, that flying with him felt like dreaming while awake. Now he always asks, “Wanna go dream?” before lifting you into the sky.

☆ He sometimes reads over your drafts while you're out cold on the couch. leaves little notes in the margins like “love this part,” “so proud of you,” or “you spelt ‘crimes’ wrong, but you’re still my favourite reporter.”

☆ He lives for when you adjust his glasses or fix his tie before a press conference. It’s the only time he lets the whole “Clark Kent” act drop just a little and looks at you like you’re his whole world.

☆ Sometimes when you’re deep into writing, completely zoned out, he lands silently on your balcony and just watches you work for a minute—arms crossed, head tilted, that soft “I can’t believe she’s mine” smile on his face. When you finally notice him, he acts like he hasn’t been standing there like a lovesick puppy for the last five minutes.

☆ On your worst days at the paper, when deadlines crush you and the world feels heavy, he wordlessly picks you up and flies you above the clouds. No noise, no pressure—just the two of you, floating in golden light. “All of that can wait,” he whispers. “You can’t.”

#dc comics #dc universe #dcu #david corenswet #superman #superman x reader #superman x you #superman fluff #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent fluff #superman summer

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ohtobeleah · 10 hours ago

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CHAMELEON IS SOOOO GOOD UGH im obsessed with this dysfunctional couple trying to be functional again! thank you so feeding us!!

i would love to see that breakfast scene btw 👀

Chameleon // Jack Abbot

“Do you still get the usual?”

It wasn't supposed to be such a loaded question. But the reality was, no. No, you didn't get the loaded avocado, with smashed pumpkin, pickled onions, tomatoes and feta on sourdough anymore. You didn't get the dish you and Jack had often shared. The meal was balanced well rounded. Filling. But you'd stopped ordering that when Jack moved out.

Now? You didn't have an order. You hadn't been to Willows since you asked for a separation. It wasn't the same without Jack.

“I'll just have whatever you're having, with a chai latte.”

But here you were. Sitting across from the love of your life, at a table set for two, feeling like the third wheel. Jack…the silence, and yourself.

“I had a pretty rough end to the shift,” It's Jack that breaks it though. He sounds tired. You recognise a little exhaustion, maybe even a hint of despair laced through his words.

“Oh, wanna talk about it?” With a scowling brow, you probe. It's not like Jack to offer up the things that trouble him for free. At the very least, he'd developed a rather frustrating habit of just not offering it to you.

“I had a guy come in who'd come off second best after being hit by a car on a run,” Jack explained as he rubbed his palms on his knees. He was sweating. Why did you look so perfect? Even after a fifteen-hour shift. “His fiancée was, rightly, devastated. But she told me they'd had one of their first big fights and he'd decided to go for a run to cool off.”

You didn't reply. The heaviness that surrounded the two of you was all that needed to be focused on. Jack sipped his long black. You stirred your Chai. Both the bacon and egg rolls that Jack had ordered for both of you were now going cold on their respective plates.

“Made me think about us,” He broke the silence again. Only this time, your heart dropped into your stomach. “How…complicated things have gotten.”

It was never meant to become out of control. The sadness, that is. Jack thought he had everything under control. He was managing. He was working. He was coping.

Until he woke up with his hands around your neck.

“I never want to experience that level of regret; that look on her face was something ripped right from a horror movie.” Jack could picture it as clear as day. He was sure he'd remember this woman's grief for years to come. The permanence of it all. The end. The ‘that's it, you can't take back what you said’ in her eyes when she realised her soon-to-be husband was dead, and the last thing she said was ‘Fine, but don't come back with an attitude still.’

It made Jack reflect…

“Makes you wonder if you'd turn back the clock, doesn't it?” You signed, picking at the crispy outer edges of the fried egg on your burger.

“Or you could have just…not left.” He didn't mean for it to sound so one-sided. Like everything had been so perfect before you walked away. Jack didn't mean to make it sound like this was your fault. It wasn't, but god, why did you have to leave?

“That's not what this is or ever was, Jack? You know why.” You replied, shock made its home across your face as you did so. Where the hell did that come from? “I'm sorry about your patient, but seriously, watch what you say to me.”

“I needed you the most and you—” Jack watched the fake reality he'd found himself surrounded by, shatter around him. He'd gotten lost in the flirtatious nature of your breakup. He thought he could repeat the cycle… But you pushed back.

“Forgave shit you would have hated me for, that's the conversation you aren't ready for yet! That's what I did.” It was clearly not the first time you'd had to remind Jack what the reality of the situation was. At least that's probably what the older lady sitting at the table adjacent to you thought. She sent you a small look of sympathy…but although intended as a gesture of kindness, it just felt like a knife to the chest.

“It wasn't that I left you when you were at your lowest, because I made sure you got proper help before I got myself help.” Jack didn't interrupt as you spoke. He simply sat across from you, thinking about how he shouldn't have opened his mouth.

“If I didn't love you and didn't want you to be a part of my life, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure out if this was just some half thought out attempt at an apology, or if you really are just reaching an age where critical thinking skills start to rapidly decline.”

“Sorry, I am.” Jack groaned as he ran his hands over his face. You knew he was, you could see it in his eyes when he looked at you. His soul had aged, but they were still the same eyes you fell in love with.

“You should be,” You scoffed in disbelief, although it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility for Jack Abbot. “My god, this was a mistake.”

“I didn't mean it to sound like that,” Jack admitted with a softness in his voice. The guilt was already eating him alive. Sitting this close to you, yet so far away, was driving him wild. “I just mean, I wish things hadn't gotten so bad that you felt like leaving was the only option you had.”

“Yeah, well,” You groaned, reaching for your chai latte. The sip was heavenly. Maybe it had something to do with the fact you'd been stirring it absentmindedly for five minutes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn't been to your favourite cafe since your separation. “Can't take it back now, just—think.”

The frustration in your voice was extremely difficult to hear. The last thing Jack ever wanted to do was be the cause of your pain, discomfort or anger. Yet here he was…the cause of all three.

“You don't usually like it when I do that?” Jack tried to lighten the mood. He smiled, just barely. But you saw it.

“Beats the alternative where you're just an outright jerk.” You replied. The giggle the two of you shared was as pure as your love. It was a nice moment of reprieve as the hustle and bustle of Willow's cafe filled the comfortable silence.

“I said I was sorry,” Jack smirked. His eyes never left yours. He had a way of making the world around you stop when he had you locked in a state so fierce, it nearly took away your ability to breathe.

“Yeah, you say that word a lot, actually.” It was the way you rolled your eyes that broke the stare off. The contest filled with nuance and context that others just passing by would never catch. “To the point where you'd think the definition would be easier to understand.”

Jack faked a pained chest. You laughed. He smiled softly. It was definitely a moment. It was…nice?

“You look beautiful, by the way, I haven't told you that in a while, but you look,”

“Thanks,” You accepted the compliment. “You look like you've been up for three days.”

“Bed's a lonely place.” Jack shrugged. It was the truth. Sleeping was hard at the best of times. But sleeping alone really made the voices echo.

“Might need to fix that, pops.” You teased. It was your way of telling Jack he had to keep trying. Keep fighting.

“I never should have listened to Robby.” Jack offered up as he shook his head. A mouth full of burger had him muffling his words. But you understood perfectly.

“Was he the one who told you to take your wife to breakfast and insult the shit out of her?” “I might have to tell Robinavitch to back off?”

“My wife,” Jack repeated. He heard it loud and clear. You had just referred to yourself as his wife. It sent electricity shooting through his body like he was designed just for you. “I haven't heard you say that in a long time.” That very statement alone was enough to have your heart aching inside your chest.

“I haven't felt like it in a long, long time.”

#jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot fic #jack abbot angst

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t-a-a-1 · 2 days ago

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tbh this my first time to ask writer about it but I will do it It's stuck in my head and Idk which writer I should ask so u r lucky...js imagine the reader sitting in her place peacefully and the others with their things and BOOM! op the last knight enter from the ground bridge but nobody knows that the reader his wife in his universe. This is a clear reason why he protects her and looks at her from time to time and he asks about her .sitting next to her ask her about her fav things and tell them the reason in the end!!!! I'm sure he looks like a real gentleman and I'm not sorry for mega if op saw the reader in megs hand HAHA! and fear in his opticss you shouldnt do that in the beginning mega optimus' relationship is strong and full of details about her btw((english not my first language))

Waiting For Rain

Summary: Optimus from TLK comes to the TFP universe by accident and tries to get Prime Optimus to confess his feelings for you.

Chapters: 1 out of 2

TW: Idk Optimus down bad, obsessed with you, jealousy, all that good stuff. Angst, Fluff, will have a happy ending.

……

Ch.1

Becoming friends with the Autobots came with many surprises. You were used to unexpected events.

But having an Optimus from another dimension suddenly come out of the ground-bridge was not in your to-do-list today.

He was different.

He still had that presence of elegance and strength. But unlike your Optimus that radiated kindness, this Optimus appeared to be … more hostile.

The first thing you noticed was his body frame. The metal parts of his body shaped in a way you hadn't seen before. He looked almost medieval and the sword he carried only enhanced his knightly look.

Everyone looked at him. Intakes wide open and the silence filled the room. But that silence was broken when Ratchen dropped his data-pad.

“It seems the ground bridge explosion sent me … here.”

His voice sounded older, wiser, more … tired.

“Optimus, what– who are you?”

Bulkhead was the only one brave enough to get closer to him, expecting him.

“Did you call me, Bulkhead?”

Your Optimus finally comes into the hangar. Everyone looks at him then back to the other Optimus. Their optics meet and you are unsure of what to do.

Although you were on the elevated floor of the hangar, the sofa covered most of your body. Wanting to see how things would unfold, you stand up.

The elevated-floor was closer to the Knight Prime than to yours. He noticed your presence and only then did the Optimus’ break their stares.

The new Optimus looks at you and his optics softened. He walked towards you as if he didn’t care about the other bots around him. You didn’t move as he raised a servo, wanting to touch you.

But that never happened as your Optimus pushed him away. Abruptly and aggressively. He looked fierceless and ready to attack the impostor even when he was meters taller than him.

“Who are you? State your designation and intentions,” your Optimus stands in front of you as he looks down at the other version of himself. The others just watched everything unfold in front of them.

“My name is Optimus Prime and I … come from another dimension.”

Things were cleared out. The new Optimus explained that he was caught in the middle of a ground-bridge explosion and probably sent here by accident. Ratchet agreed to help him get back to his dimension. Meanwhile, he will stay here with the rest of the Autobots.

Having to call two Optimus, Optimus, would be confusing. So you decided to call your Optimus, Prime (as you always have) and the new Optimus, Knight Optimus.

“I am content to know that your existence is still a vital part of my life, of course, I wouldn’t expect to be otherwise.”

Knight Optimus, was as expected, also eloquent with words. But his words left different. More … intense.

“Really? Then I can imagine the other me must be a very interesting person,” you say as you walk with him through the corridors. Out of everyone, it seems he enjoys your company the most. Especially when he was so open to letting you sit on his shoulder. As if it was an everyday thing. You assumed that these kinds of activities were common between him and you from his dimension.

“She is but I am afraid she might be worried right now.”

“Well, whenever Prime is out for a mission and I get worried, he always comes back,” you say. “So I am sure that me from another dimension knows that you’ll go back to her soon.”

“Yes … I think that’s something you would think.”

“I hope I am not interrupting,” “It is late, Bumblebee will escort (Y/N) to her home. Meanwhile, I’ll show you your hab suit.”

“I see,”

Optimus puts you on the floor.

Prime could only think about how he was stuck with himself. He already disliked him, he had to watch over him when the only thing he wanted was to be the one to take you home instead of Bumblebee. It was his job, his duty and this version of himself was unabling to do. The few quality times he had with you, he had to spend it with him.

“Good night, Knight Optimus.”

Knight Optimus bends on one knee and gently touches your hair.

“Good Knight, (y/n) I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. He is a handsome mech, that much you can tell. His frame, the way he stands, his presence. You didn’t want to say much so as to not make yourself look like a high school girl. Dumb and stupid.

Prime looks at your acts and immediately feels something stuck in his spark. As if he wanted to throw up all the energon in his body.

“Good night, Prime”

You speak to him and suddenly, he has no words. His processor begged him to say something. To tell you how much he will miss you during the night, about how he will look at the moon and think of you. Just you.

Prime simply nods.

That's the only thing he could muster to do. Pathetic.

They see you walk away. Their optics glued to you but Prime had more yearning in his eyes compared to his equal.

And he noticed this.

“May I inquire, why is it that (Reader) sleeps in a different area than you?”

“She has a home to go to.”

Prime starts to walk, hoping that Knight Optimus would follow him. He does but his steps are cautious just as curious.

“... Away from you?” Knight Optimus asks. “I did not detect any sparkling-waves inside of her, do you not bed her enough?”

Prime suddenly stops walking, he turns to look at Knight Optimus.

“... I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it is strange to not spark your Conjux. My (Reader) and I have four sparklings and expect another soon.”

He could hear his venting fans accelerate, his processor not being able to understand the information. Whether because he was too excited to know that there is a version of him that you loved or because he couldn’t believe that the two of you were compatible enough to create life.

“...Excuse me?” Prime asks, the only thing he could muster to say.

“Do not tell me … You haven’t spark-bonded yet?”

Suddenly, he goes quiet. Knight Optimus studies his face and the confused look on his face lets him know everything he needs. After all, he used to have the same look once before.

“... She doesn’t know of your undying feelings for her, does she?”

“My relationship with (Reader) is strictly platonic,” Prime lies, hoping that he is not too bad at doing so. “Nothing of the likes of yours.”

“Deception? I thought we were unfamiliar to the concept but it seems I was wrong,”

“It’s not a lie.”

“It is,” Knight Optimus looks at his servo, missing the feeling of his (Reader) on it. “Because I know there’s no version of me that does not love her.”

He closes his servo, wishing he could be back with her now. Ever since gifting him with sparklings, this is probably the longest the two of you have been apart.

“I am sure you can’t even look at the Moon without thinking of her.”

“You must be mad.”

“Are you not?”

There is no way of denying it. Honestly, it doesn’t surprise him that another version of him loves you. He was right, he knew it. That there couldn’t exist a version of him that didn’t love you. His soul was bound to you in this universe and each one of them. For now, he was content to know that another version of you loved him.

But also, kinda jealous.

Because Knight Optimus was allowed to love you. To show you his affection.

He wasn’t as lucky.

“If you are a fraction of what I am, you must be, to an extent, mad,” Knight Optimus was trying to come up with comforting words but failing to do so. “But I was able to express my feelings and it made all the difference.”

But if comfort doesn’t work, maybe something else would.

“In my case, it drove me insane the thought of not being with her,” he says. “Can you imagine her taking refuge in another man's arms? Carrying someone else’s sparkling?”

He didn’t want to think about it. Because he knew he would go mad the moment he does.

“If that’s what she wishes, so be it,” Prime, once again feels that pain in his spark. On his entire frame. “It doesn’t concern me.”

The only thing that Knight Prime could think of, was that this version of himself had yet too much to understand.

“...Very well then, if that’s what you say. I won’t mention another word.”

Ratchet and Raphael were busy trying to decipher the mathematics for dimensional travel.

Which Prime couldn’t be more anxious for them to finish.

To say that Knight Optimus had completely taken your attention is an understatement. He was completely all over you and you didn’t seem to mind one bit.

He asked too many questions. Out of curiosity mostly. Where did you work, your favorite food, color, place, hobby. And you were happy to answer all of his questions.

“Would you Conjux a Cybertronian?”

This is something he was interested in. Prime immediately concentrated his audial towards the conversation.

“I don’t even think Cybertronians find humans to be attractive?” you say. “Besides, I don’t think I am good enough to be any Cybertronian’s partner. You guys are just so cool!”

Although you had meant this in a flattering way, Knight Optimus took this personally. He kneeled down and wished he could mass-shift but that act was too intimate and he would only do that if were to be alone with you.

“It is I, who’s not deserving–”

“Oi! What’s up with that hot Prime?”

Alex shows up at the hangar as he usually does. His eyes solely focused on Knight Prime. He whistles at him, at his mechanical beauty. He looks at him the same way when he looks at a pretty car.

Knight Optimus wasn’t a big fan of this first interaction and decided to walk away to talk to Prime.

You took this as your cue to talk to Alex and explain to him the situation.

Prime continues to work on his computer but using his peripheral vision, he noticed Knight Optimus. He didn’t want to interact with him but he thought that it was better than to watch him talk to you.

Meanwhile, Knight Optimus saw in Prime, a younger, less experienced version of himself. Still with hope and dreams. Craving, wanting. Wishing that things can finish the way he wanted them to if only he is good enough.

He had once been like that too. But after many losses, he understood that if you want something, you have to take it. Claim it.

But then he heard you laugh and all of his attention was driven towards you. This Alex seems to be fond of you and you are so. He gets close to you, more than he would like.

“I am aware that I mentioned that I won’t speak of the matter again,” Knight Optimus says to Prime. “But I cannot believe you won’t do anything about this.”

Knight Optimus looks back at you and Alex and Prime follows his vision. He watches the interaction for a few seconds, only for Prime to go back to work on his computer.

“That male human will take her from you the moment you look away,” he tries for his voice to not be too loud but Prime’s lack of interest was bothering him greatly. “Does your spark not burn with envy?”

“I do not have such a feeling,” he simply says. He can’t tell the truth. That his sparks begs to come out of his chamber whenever he approaches you and shows some romantic interest.

Knight Optimus sees Alex get closer to you, he could sense that he wanted to invade your personal space. Tempted to touch you.

“I would have broken his arm off if he dared to touch my (Reader) without her permission,” Knight Prime would have already taken you away from the male if only he wasn’t too busy trying to make Prime act on his true feelings. “Even now, I am tempted to do so.”

“I do not harm humans.”

“I am sure you have thought about it,” although Prime was pretending to be busy by typing on his massive computer, he was hearing everything Knight Prime had to say. “Just look at him. Making her laugh … Who does he think he is?”

He doesn’t want to look. Because he will start to analyze every single aspect of your interaction with Agent Alex. The way you put a string of hair behind your ear, smiling and avoiding eye contact. Your blinking patterns, your breathing, your pulse–

“Have you always been this possesive?” Prime asks, feeling like a hypocrite.

“Only when I feel a threat,” Knight Optimus says. “And he is one.”

Knight Optimus didn’t hesitate to look. And although he paid attention to you, he also paid attention to male next to you. And how he reaches out to you and caresses your hair.

“Definitely one.”

He was about to walk towards the two of you but he felt another servo on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Do not do something foolish.”

“Pardon, but I cannot and will not stand another version of my wife be … flattered by anyone,” Knight Prime pushes Prime’s servo away, looking at him with disgust. “If you won’t give her the rightful place she deserves in your spark then I’ll do it myself.”

But before Knight Optimus could do something about the situation, Optimus’ computer starts to beep. Loudly.

It was no other than Megatron.

A/N: Hello anon! Thank you for the beautiful ask, it was so fun to write! I will complete your full request in another chapter. I hope this is somewhat, what you wanted. Can’t wait for knight optimus to go full berserk when you captured by Megatron hehe

The writing on this wasn’t my favorite but it’s fun to write regardless. Also yes, this Knight Optimus is the same from my other fic “Rain Drops” so he got this happy ending :))

For the rest of my readers … sorry I was so absent, I had to write a movie script for a film festival so that took all of my attention. Now, I’ll concentrate on writing the next chapter of counting stars and/ or The Darkest Hour.

Thank you for reading! See you soon <3

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mintyys-blog · 12 hours ago

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Incel Mark x reader? lol

PARASOCIAL | incel! mark grayson x reader

invincible masterlist

💋 — warnings ; incel! mark, obsessive behavior, sexual frustration, strong implications of nsfw thoughts, mark being creepy but emotionally unstable about it, misogyny, appealing to the “male gaze”, reader is described to be curvy, smut, dom + sub themes

IMAGINE THIS ; You’re a famous content creator—gorgeous, confident, and very online. The type of girl who does streaming, gaming, flirty jokes. The internet worships you. But Mark? Mark used to scoff at girls like you… until he couldn’t stop watching. Now he’s obsessed. And you have no idea how dangerous he is.

The stream always started the same.

Bright ring light. Soft synthwave music. The clink of your lip gloss tube hitting the desk as you twisted it open like a ritual.

You leaned in close to the camera—too close—and pouted. Slowly, carefully, you slicked your lips in smooth strokes, eyes half-lidded, chin tilted like you were doing it for someone watching on the other side of the screen.

Someone who mattered.

Mark told himself it wasn’t him.

He wasn’t watching because of the gloss. Or the cleavage. Or the way you giggled and arched your back every time you leaned forward to read donations. He was just curious. That was all.

Curious about what made you so popular.

Why men—idiots—lined up to throw money at a girl who played games half-distracted and cooked pasta in tank tops that barely covered her chest. Why they called you “princess” and “mommy” in chat and you smiled like it meant something.

Why it worked.

He hated it.

He hated how you moaned softly over your food while tasting your own recipe. Hated how you bounced when you got a killshot on stream and your chest jiggled perfectly under the camera. Hated the breathy “Oops, I dropped something~” followed by a cleavage shot when you bent to pick it up.

You knew what you were doing.

You always did.

“$100 donation from KillMaster420: Damn, that top’s illegal. Marry me.”

You giggled, biting your gloss-slicked lip. “A hundred dollars and you still can’t get my number? Tragic.”

Mark clenched his jaw, watching you lick the corner of your mouth.

He didn’t even like cooking content. Or shooters. Or girls like you. Girls who played cute and dumb and got rich because guys couldn’t stop staring at their tits long enough to realize they didn’t actually care about the stream.

But he watched.

Every time.

He knew your upload schedule. Your go-live notifications were enabled. He never typed in chat—God forbid someone saw his name. But he lurked.

And he stared.

At the way your bra barely contained you. At how you always pushed your arms together when reading comments, making your chest look bigger. At the perfect glow of your skin under the filter and soft lighting.

Sometimes you laughed too loud.

Sometimes you leaned forward, chin in your hands, and whispered “Am I distracting you?” before clicking unpause on the game.

Mark would go breathless. And that pissed him off.

Because he wasn’t like those guys. He wasn’t gonna throw money at you like you were some goddess with a Patreon paywall and a wish list full of vibrators. He wasn’t gonna simp. He saw through you.

Right? …Right?

He told himself it was just research. Curiosity. But the truth was uglier. He wanted you to look at him. Not the camera. Not the chat. Him.

He wanted you to smile like he mattered. Like you saw him. Like you’d touch your lips and ask him, “Do you think I’m pretty, Mark?” and mean it.

But that would never happen. You didn’t know who he was.

You never noticed the way his username popped up in the viewer list like clockwork. Never saw the way he paused every time you leaned too far into the camera. Never heard the rage in his silence when you flirted with men who hadn’t earned it.

You weren’t stupid. You were performing. And maybe that’s what made it worse. Because you were too good at it. And Mark couldn’t stop watching.

He hadn’t meant to come.

He told himself it was stupid, standing in line with a badge around his neck and sweat in his palms, just to meet a girl he didn’t even like.

At least that’s what he told himself in the mirror that morning.

But then he saw you.

And the lie shattered like glass.

You were dressed as him.

Invincible.

Mark Grayson. His suit. His colors. His symbol.

Except your version clung to every curve. Shiny spandex stretched over your hips, your chest, your thighs. The zipper was low—way too low—and when you posed, you popped one hip and winked at the crowd like you’d been born to wreck people with a smile.

Mark swallowed so hard it hurt.

You were taking photos with fans. Men. Boys. Gross ones. Sweaty ones. Awkward ones. Guys who looked like they’d never touched a woman in their life—and you laughed with them. Let them wrap arms around your waist. Let them lean in close like they were anything close to special.

Mark watched. Stewed.

And then, somehow, he was next.

You turned toward him with a wide smile, hair bouncing as you waved him over.

“Hey, cutie!”

Your voice. Warm. Familiar. Sweet poison in his ears.

“Come for a photo?”

He nodded—mute, tense, trying not to stare. Not at the way your thighs peeked through the suit. Not at the slope of your breasts beneath the half-zipped collar. Not at your glossy lips, wet and full and right there as you leaned in.

“I love your shirt,” you said, touching his chest. Mark couldn’t breathe. He posed stiffly, barely able to smile. You draped an arm around his back, tugging him close. The scent of you hit him like a truck—sweet and warm, something floral with a hint of sugar—and then your lips were on his cheek.

Soft. Brief. Devastating. “There you go, handsome,” you murmured as the flash went off.

His face was on fire. His mind completely blank. You turned to the staff after. “He’s adorable. Send that to my archive, will you?” Mark left. Fast. Heart pounding. Head spinning. But he didn’t go far.

He found a pillar in the corner. Hidden behind a vendor banner. From there, he watched. Watched as more guys came up—fatter, sweatier, clearly unshowered—and you treated them all the same. Smiling. Giggling. Posing.

But not kissing them. Not touching their cheeks. Still, you let them hold you. Let them lean in close. Let them fantasize. His stomach twisted. His jaw clenched.

You were so good at this. So good at pretending none of it mattered. That you weren’t melting men down like wax every time you batted your lashes or touched their arms.

But with him… was it different? Hadn’t you smiled just a little wider? Called him handsome? Brushed your fingers across his shoulder like you meant it? Was that real? Or was he just one of them?

Mark stayed for hours. Pretending not to care. Pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. Pretending your lips hadn’t ruined him with one kiss that lasted all of two seconds. You looked too good in that suit. Too confident. Too much. And Mark? He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss you or scream.

He spotted you again as he stepped out of the bathroom, his breath still shallow, his jaw tight.

There you were—alone this time. No fans. No cameras. No flashing smiles or filtered gloss.

You stood near the pillar at the edge of the con floor, leaning against it, phone in hand. Still in the skin-tight Invincible suit, still a walking billboard for lust and irony. His suit. Molded to your curves like you’d been sewn into it.

Mark stopped mid-step, just watching you.

Your hair was slightly messed up from the constant movement. Your boots had scuff marks now. You were chewing the inside of your cheek while scrolling. Mundane. Human.

Vulnerable.

He walked over before he could think twice.

You didn’t look up until he was right in front of you.

Then you smiled. That practiced streamer smile, easy and effortless—until your eyes flicked over him and narrowed slightly in recognition.

“Well, well,” you said, locking your phone. “Bathroom break over?”

Mark didn’t smile.

Instead, he asked, bluntly, “Why do you make your content like that?”

You blinked. “Like what?”

He didn’t look away. “You know what I mean. The flirting. The moaning. The outfits. The voice. The… everything.”

Your lips twitched. Not into a frown. But something sharper.

A smirk.

“It gets me the money, baby,” you said, breezily, tilting your head. “You think the world pays attention to women who are ‘respectable’ online? Please. I was invisible before this. No views. No subs. No nothing.”

You pushed off the wall, crossing your arms beneath your chest—and Mark hated how it made his eyes flick down, just once, before he forced them back up.

“I was working some dead-end job where my boss called me ‘sweetheart’ and paid me minimum wage to fake-smile through a headset,” you went on. “Now I make more in a night than I did in a month. I quit that job. Paid off my loans. Booked this con as a guest.”

Your smile faded slightly. Sharpened.

“You really wanna come at me for doing what works?”

Mark didn’t speak at first. He was staring again. You looked unreal—fake, filtered, manufactured. Except you weren’t. You were right here, live and raw and unapologetic.

And still, he scoffed.

“You’re so shallow.”

You blinked. Slowly. Then laughed—sharp and humorless.

“A girl does what she has to,” you said flatly. “You think I wanted to wear crop tops and say ‘daddy’ into a mic to get seen? No. But I learned fast: this is what sells. This is what they want.”

Mark swallowed.

You stepped in closer, eyes scanning his face.

“And you?” you added, voice lighter now. “You’re not one of my usual fans. You’re actually attractive.”

He flinched like you slapped him.

“I—what does that even mean?”

“It means,” you said, almost like a sigh, “you’re not some sweaty incel with a cartoon avatar and a neckbeard. You’re hot. Annoyingly broody. You probably have morals and think I’m everything wrong with the internet.”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you think it.”

Mark didn’t deny it.

He just stared, jaw working. Something between anger and desire burning in his chest like a fuse.

You had him figured out.

And he hated it.

You exhaled through your nose, stepping back slightly, and for a moment—just a second—your expression changed. Softer. Sadder.

“But I tried doing it their way,” you said. “The good-girl way. The modest way. No one watched. No one cared.”

A beat.

“Until I showed a little skin. Played up the voice. Played them.”

Mark said nothing.

The silence between you stretched.

Finally, you gave him one last look—half amused, half tired.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” you said. “But I stopped asking for understanding a long time ago.” You turned before he could say another word. No apology. No invitation.

Just that suit. Painted-on blue, yellow and black, clinging to every inch of you like you were born in it. Like it wasn’t his—like you’d taken it and made it better. Louder. Hotter.

Mark stood frozen.

He should’ve said more. Should’ve fought harder. Should’ve walked away first. But instead he just… watched.

You didn’t rush. You didn’t have to. Your stride was slow and confident, hips swaying like you knew he was still standing there—like every step was a punishment carved just for him. The boots. The shine. The way you moved, like you knew the burn you left behind. Mark’s jaw tightened.

You didn’t look back once. Didn’t acknowledge the effect. Just walked toward the next thing waiting for you—fans, fame, filtered attention. But Mark? He watched.

And in the pit of his stomach, something twisted. Something hot. Ugly. Electric. It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just anger. It was want. He hated what you stood for. And he couldn’t stop wanting more.

He followed you again.

He wasn’t subtle. He wasn’t trying to be.

At first it was just down the hallway after your panel ended. Then through the service corridor where only staff and guests with keycards were supposed to go. Then… the elevator. You were one floor above him.

But you didn’t take the elevator.

You walked. And he followed.

Something in him felt righteous about it. Like you owed him a chance to say what he wanted to say. After everything. After the kiss. After the way you wore his suit. After how you looked at him.

You were baiting him. Every time. Every stream. Every step.

And he—he kept biting.

So when you slipped around the corner near the vending machine hallway on the 12th floor, Mark didn’t hesitate. He turned after you, footsteps quiet, calculating what he’d say when he finally—

“Are you gonna keep following me,” you said coolly, without turning around, “or are you planning to actually do something?”

Mark froze.

You stopped walking. Slowly turned to face him. Not surprised. Not afraid. Eyes sharp. Mouth curled in something between a smile and a dare.

“You’ve been staring all day,” you said. “All weekend, probably. I figured eventually you’d grow a pair.”

Mark’s fists clenched at his sides.

“You think this is a game,” he said. “You wear that suit. Smile like you mean it. Moan into microphones. You think it makes you powerful.”

Your head tilted slightly, amused. “Doesn’t it?”

He stepped closer. “You keep acting like you’re above it. Like you’re not selling sex to strangers for likes and cash.”

“And you keep acting like you’re not one of them,” you snapped back. “But here you are. Following me like a lost dog. Staring like you want to ruin me.”

You moved in—so fast, he flinched. You got right up close, breathing the same air.

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “So why haven’t you?”

Mark’s chest rose hard.

You were too close. Too bold. Too right.

He didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Just that sharp, dark look—resentment blooming into hunger, restraint bleeding into heat. His hands twitched at his sides. Yours didn’t. Yours were steady. Confident.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said.

“You should be,” he whispered. “No. I shouldn’t.” Silence. Heavy. Throbbing. Just like his cock, staining against his jeans.

Then your hand slid up his chest, slow and maddening, fingers brushing the collar of his shirt. He didn’t stop you. Couldn’t. His whole body was wound tight, trembling with the need to either pull you closer—or shove you against the wall and kiss the smug out of your voice. “I think you want to hate me,” you said. “But you don’t.”

Mark exhaled sharply. “I do.” You leaned in, lips barely brushing his cheek as you said, “Then prove it.”

You didn’t flinch when he moved.

Didn’t blink when Mark’s hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head. He was breathing harder now, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes—rage and want tangled into one.

“You think this is funny?” he growled. “You think this is some kind of joke?”

You grinned. “You followed me, remember?”

His jaw clenched. Your smile deepened.

“I should walk away,” he muttered, but didn’t move.

“Then go.”

You said it lightly, lazily. But your body stayed close, leaned just enough into him to make him feel the heat between you. You were baiting him again—he knew it, and still couldn’t stop.

His voice dropped low. “Say my name.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said—call me Mark.”

That made you laugh. Not loud. Not cruel. Just amused.

“Mark,” you purred, tilting your head. “What, don’t like being just another anonymous fanboy?”

His hand twitched beside your head. You saw it. You liked it.

Then you grabbed his shirt by the collar—sharp, sudden—and yanked him down, crashing your lips to his.

Mark froze.

For a heartbeat.

Then he kissed you back—hard.

His mouth was searing, almost punishing, the kind of kiss that tasted like fury and heat and weeks of pent-up frustration. His hands dropped from the wall to your waist, gripping tight. You gasped, but didn’t pull away. You dug in.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air. You licked your lips, breathless. “Was that your idea of ruining me?” you teased. Mark’s eyes burned. “Not even close.”

Mark’s grip tightened on your waist, eyes burning with a fire that wasn’t just desire—it was frustration, resentment, and something dangerously possessive.

“You think you’re in control,” he growled, voice low, almost a snarl. “You think you can play the game, sell yourself, tease everyone… and then just ignore me.”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his intensity. “And why would I care about you, exactly?”

His breath hitched. “Because I’m the one standing here. Because you keep looking for attention like it’s a game, but you need me to see through the act.” You laughed, sharp and bitter. “Need you? You’re delusional.”

“No,” he said, voice cracking with raw emotion. “You need me to put you in your place. To remind you you’re not untouchable. Not invincible.”

His hand slid up your side, gripping firm enough to hurt. “You think you’re better than me. Smarter. Hotter. More powerful. But you’re just scared. Scared you’ll never be real, only this… performance.” You swallowed, heart pounding, breath uneven.“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re not above me.” You stared at him. Then you whispered, voice cold but steady, “I’m not above you.”

The hotel room was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. You moved toward the large mirror again, the glass cold beneath your fingertips as you leaned forward, chest pressed lightly against it. Behind you, Mark’s presence was a weight—solid, relentless.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, fingers digging in just enough to claim you without causing pain. His breath was hot at your neck, voice low and sharp. His cock pressed between your ass cheeks.

“You’re so willing,” he said, his tone rough with something dark, “so ready to give yourself away… like some desperate girl trying to buy attention.” You didn’t answer, but your body tensed at his words. A mix of shame, defiance, and something else—something raw—stirred inside you. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “But don’t forget who’s in control here. Not your fans. Not your followers. Me.”

A slow smirk played at your lips despite the bite in his tone. “Oh? And what exactly do you want from me, Mark?” She moaned when he filled her, her slick walls making it easy to slide in.

He tightened his grip. “I want to see you broken down and rebuilt—on my terms.” His hands slid possessively, guiding. The mirror caught every inch of the silent battle between surrender and resistance, pride and submission.

“You think you’re the queen of your little world,” he murmured. “But you don’t get to keep playing that game when I’m the one holding the leash.” Your breath hitched. You could feel the fire in his eyes burning through the reflection. His hand coming up to play and pinch your nipple. He continued to thrust inside, watching in satisfaction as your breast bounced and jiggled with his movement.

He pressed closer, the shadows and the mirror turning your space into something dangerous and intimate. And as his hands gripped your hips tighter, your bare self presented to him. “Such pretty tits, look at you— stretched around my cock. What would your fans think, pretty girl?”

He traced slow circles on your skin. “What would they think, huh? The way you’re right here, completely undone.”

His breath ghosted over your ear. “Pretty girl, so quick to give it all away… but only to me.” You bit your lip, caught between defiance and something deeper—a raw vulnerability that thrilled and scared you all at once.

His grip tightened just a fraction, a warning and a promise all at once. The mirror caught every flicker of your expression—defiance, curiosity, and something else beneath it all, fragile but fierce.

“You play your game in front of thousands,” he murmured, voice thick with possessiveness. “But here, now, you’re not the queen. Not the streamer, not the goddess on screen. Just… you. Vulnerable. Real.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. His words hit deeper than you expected, stirring a mix of fear and something like anticipation. He leaned closer, breath warm on your skin. “You don’t get to choose when to be strong and when to break. I’ll decide that.”

“Just like I’ll decide when you get to cum.” His hands slid from your hips to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The pressure was firm but careful, like he wanted to mark his territory without causing harm. Your moans echoed in the room— watching yourself fall apart in the mirror, his cock hitting the place that made your toes curl.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a dark rhythm pulling you into the unknown. His hips smacked againist your ass, causing a beautiful ripple.

“Say my name,” he whispered. His hand reached down to play with your clit. You met your own gaze in the mirror, then his in the reflection, and whispered back, “Mark.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Good girl.”

#mark grayson x reader #x reader #reader insert #x female reader

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thethronezone · 18 hours ago

Note

The father headcanons are like crack, totally obsessed. I have been wondering if you would write one, where they specifically have a daughter, who is looking up to them and the space marines.

Keep asking them, when they also will become a space marine to go on and fight for the chapter. And if the dads could teach the daughter how to fight.

Thank you :)

Mortarion - For a moment, Mortarion considers flat out denying her request. His daughter should never have to fight, should never have to know danger. But then he remembers how fickle fate can be. One can never predict what will happen next. So if his daughter wants to know how to fight... Well, might as well go with it and prepare for the worst. Besides, the Emperor might have decreed that only males can become space marines but Mortarion has never liked listening to that man anyway.

Fulgrim - Finds it so charming that his daughter looks up to both him and his legion. He's always strived to be a prime example of what a warrior and man should be so it's very gratifying to hear that his child wants to be just like him. When she is still young he humors the idea of her becoming a space marine, "Hmm, who knows, maybe one day", but when she gets a bit older he does break the news to her that only males may become astartes. Does, however, make it clear that she is part of his legion and trains her to be a splendid warrior in her own right.

Angron - He laughs. Not out of malice, but simply because he admires the fighting spirit in his daughter. Of course she shall know how to fight! And while Angron might not train her himself, he does overlook her training and make sure that she knows that being a warrior means. And if she wants to be a space marine? Then she'll be one. So what if she's female? She's tougher than any other boy her age!

Magnus - While he does find it endearing that his daughter wants to be a space marine and fight for his legion, Magnus tells her from the start that that is not really possible. And would she not rather be a scholar? Why waste time fighting when she could stay at home, studying and learning new exciting things? But since his daughter refuses to give up on her dream, Magnus does eventually relent and allow her to start taking fighting lessons, though they are mostly focused on using psychic powers instead of standard weapons.

Perturabo - Don't be stupid. Only males can become space marines. He doesn't say this to hurt her, he just thinks it would be cruel of him to lie to her and get her hopes up. Though when he gets this dejected look on her face, Perturabo can't help the sliver of panic that causes his hearts to pick up speed. Ah, but if you want to be a warrior, why not a custodi? They accept women into their ranks. Though he would secretly prefer his daughter to remain close by.

Alpharius - So she wants to be part of the Alpha Legion? Great! No problem, Alpharius and Omegon was planning for that to happen anyway. Just shave her head and she looks like a lil Alpha Legionnaire already! Fully supports this dream of hers though they make sure that she knows just how intense training is going to be. Gives her the best fighting training, often teaching her themselves.

Lorgar - Oh, sweet child. Lorgar is touched by the fact that his daughter wants to fight with his legion and looks up to him so much but he'd much rather she stay where it's safe and look after the flock when he's away. Also very reluctant about teaching her how to fight since he wants her to remain innocent and gentle. Eventually, he does allow her to learn self defense, though he does not think she will ever need it. She's safe, after all.

Horus - As if Horus needed more of an ego boost. When his daughter says that she wants to be a space marine and join his legion, Horus stands just a little taller. Wanting to humor his daughter, he simply ruffles her hair and tells her that she's still got to grow up a little. But teaching her how to fight, how to defend herself? No problem! Horus keeps saying that she can be a space marine once she's gotten a bit older than, eventually, she will grow frustrated and ask when that is and that's when Horus has to admit that she can't actually join.

Konrad - While he has no qualms when it comes to teaching his daughter how to fight (she needs to know how to defend herself, after all), Konrad does not want her to become a Night Lord. Or a warrior at all. He knows that eventually, all warriors die violent deaths and he does not want that for her. Besides, she should not look up to him or his legion.

Sanguinius - It warms Sanguinius' hearts seeing his daughter brimming with conviction and the desire to help him fight. Though at the same time, it scares him, because he does not want her to get hurt or to witness the ugly truth of war. Tries to softly tell her that, while she can't become a Blood Angel, she can still help people, just in other ways. Does however agree with the fact that she needs to learn how to fight, purely because of the fact that he knows he won't always be there to protect her.

Corvus - No. It's an immediate response when his daughter, his little chick, says that she wants to join the Raven Guard, wants to fight. He blames her youth, her naive worldview because if she knew how much evil there is out there- No. Corvus will teach her how to defend herself in case of a worst case scenario but he won't even entertain the idea of her becoming a space marine or any other kind of warrior. Corvus will keep his daughter safe.

Ferrus - While Ferrus is genuinely touched by his daughter's admiration of both him and his legion (he can't deny that it feels validating to have his child look at his work and be amazed), he just can't bring himself to play along with her little fantasy. Tries to gently explain just why she can't be a space marine while at the same time providing other options. Does however agree to teach her how to fight, that's always good to know. Just in case.

Rogal - Goes into detail when explaining to his daughter why she can't become a space marine but he does commend her for her willingness to fight and her courage. It also makes him happy to see that she admires him so much and looks up to the work the Imperial Fists does. It puts him at ease, knowing that she's got a good head on her shoulders. Will teach her how to fight though, absolutely.

Vulkan - Big fucking grin on Vulkan's face. Because this is the equivalent of your kid going "I wanna be like you one day, daddy!" and Vulkan's hearts melts. Doesn't have the heart(s) to tell his daughter that only males can become space marines so he avoids that particular question by offering to personally teach her how to fight. Of course, his daughter happily accepted this offer, much to Vulkan's relief. Internally, he promises to find a way to make her a honorary Salamander.

Lion - Son or daughter, it does not matter. Lion's child shall know how to fight! Quickly squashes that dream of becoming a space marine though by outright telling his daughter that only males may become astartes. Does, however, humor the idea of her becoming a custodi instead. It's a slim chance but more likely than her becoming a space marine. But Lion also makes it clear that he would prefer for his daughter to remain with his legion, space marine or not.

Leman - If the lass wants to be a Space Wolf then so it shall be! So what if she's a girl and can't go through most of the procedures? She's his daughter so she has those organs anyway! Leman fully supports his daughter's dream of becoming a space marine and will argue with anyone that tries to stop her from pursuing it. Very involved in teaching her how to fight and is so proud of her for wanting to join his legion and fight by his side.

Jaghatai - Years from now on, someone will ask "Hey, didn't the Khan have a daughter?", to which someone else will reply "Nah, he's got a son though". Because that's how it's gonna go. His kid wants to be a space marine? Alright, if that's what she wants. Excuse him, if that's what he wants. A daughter? No, Jaghatai has always had a son, you're just confused. And what a great son he is, the Khan couldn't be prouder of him.

Roboute - Calm on the outside, panic on the inside because this made him imagine his little one in battle and oh no, that thought alone gave him a few grey hairs. Tries to gently explain that only males can become space marines (internally begging for his daughter to not suggest the astra militarum as a second option) but that she can still join the Ultramarines but as something else. Like a diplomat! Or an administrator! Reluctantly agrees to teach her how to fight, mostly for the sake of self defense, though internally he promises to never let anything happen to her that might require it.

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biteyoubiteme · 2 days ago

Text

Eeeeekkkkkk i get so excited when i see that you posted a fic >< also i love love love when you write crack for beomgyu like you know how to make me giggle lmao like even the little things like this i love Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration. A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter. Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

The way you write beomgyu i eat it up every time A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused? Also how silly for him to look at the cat and have a stare off like its so cute and silly

“Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.” i love him sm

“I swear to every god in existence.” Beomgyu had said, with all the endearing dramatic flair of someone telling ghost stories with a candle, “Prince Yeonjun was caught HALF NAKED, sneaking out of the royal astrologer’s tower.” “No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea. He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.” the little gossip sessions stop i love them-

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive. You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now. “My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.” i love the way you write him, the drama and everything just fits the image of a prince and i just love it i dont know what to say like this is so fun

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too. I love cats in fics i love it more when they love the members like its so wholesome

“Are you flirting with me?” “Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.” “I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms. Im obsessed with them-

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider. With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard, his skin prickling up and chest heaving. You scoff at his words. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A flush creeps over his cheeks as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on. Jumping for joy spinning around my room loving them and getting giddy over this

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away. He loudly cries at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t. “No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, “fuck me.” You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince.” He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum. >< i love how dramatic he is omfg-

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu pouts. “I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.” “Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.” “This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously. I love him i love this i love love love it

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded. Ive died

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.” Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one. You both start giggling like idiots. By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned. And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, longe gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey. What if i sobbed i love them sm stop this was so cute and silly i loved it a lot but i love everything you write, like the way you write beomgyu is so fun and i just gush over it ;-;-; <333

☆ Captive Royalty !

genre: crack, royalty au, fantasy au, smut, fluff

pairing: sub prince ! beomgyu x dom afab poor reader ?

synopsis: desperate times call for desperate measures…so you kidnap the prince of the kingdom and he turns out to be more of a handful than you expected.

warnings: kidnapping !! sub beomgyu, dom reader, beomgyu gets drugged, slight knife play, bondage, ropes, degrading, choking, riding, creampie, hand job, kinda dollification, overstimulation, hair pulling, orgasm denial, finger sucking ? (this sounds really dark from the warnings but it’s kinda unserious and silly and consensual)

word count: 4.3k

Prince beomgyu lets out a long, theatrical sigh, wandering aimlessly and weaving through the bushes and trees of the mystic forest a few metres away from the castle, needing a break from his duties even for just a second of reprieve. The air smelled of damp earth and fragrant wildflowers. Butterflies flitted their pretty wings lazily around him as he stepped over a cluster of bluebell flowers on the mossy floor, where mushrooms were also scattered of all different shapes and colours.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, vines and ivy curled around the tall tree trunks, practically moving and alive, shaking loose pink petals off the branches and falling atop beomgyu’s long hair instead.

He stops when he comes across a small, crystalline pond tucked away, watching as purple dragonflies hover over the surface, lily pads and petals floating on top and, beneath the clear water, koi fishes whose colourful scales practically glowed, swimming and flicking their tails elegantly. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, captivated by the tranquility of the scene. For a small second, it was as if he could finally forget everything.

But then, he mutters to himself, scowling. “I swear to the gods, hate the court, hate those stupid advisors. I hate them all.” Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration.

A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter.

Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

Instead, he takes a look back at the ethereal scenery, the forest nothing short of enchanted. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back, basking in the golden sunrays peeking through the canopy, inhaling deeply.

But his moment of peace is abruptly interrupted when he feels a cold, sharp blade pressing against his throat.

Beomgyu’s breath catches, eyes snapping open to meet a much less aesthetic view: A dagger, pressed very intimately underneath his jaw and already practically digging into his adam’s apple, “What the fu-”

“Don’t move.” Came the voice behind him.

Oh my god. He’s going to die. This is where prince beomgyu begins to panic, immediately stripping himself of his jewellery and any valuables, tossing them onto the grass, hastily. “Here! Take it! Take all of it! Please! Just not my face! I’m too handsome to die!”

You stare at him, baffled beneath the mask you were wearing, almost forgetting to keep the dagger steadily pointed at him.

“I’m not robbing you.” You say flatly. “I’m taking taking something far more valuable...”

There was a moment of silence as he looks at you cluelessly.

Then he gasps. “You’re taking my hair?”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Tightening your grip on the dagger, you roll your eyes, grabbing the cloth from your bag, shoving it over his nose and mouth, drugging him.

“Mmfph!” The prince protests, flailing but then his eyes roll back and his limbs go limp, simply falling unconscious.

You warily eyed up the prince who now sat unconsciously tied to a chair in your cottage, head lolling to one side.

Surprisingly, it was much easier kidnapping the prince of the kingdom than you had imagined. He didn’t put up much of a fight, nor were there any guards around him, or any witnesses at all. Quite underwhelming really.

But at least everything was going even smoother than planned, you’d even written the ransom letter and had already sent it off to the king. Now you just had to wait and soon it would all be yours.

You study the prince’s face. You’d never seen him before, too preoccupied and shut away in your cottage in solitude. You didn’t care for them. Besides, what have the royals done for you other than tax you and steal all your money? Why were they even praised anyway? They just sat around doing nothing really. It was practically their fault for your situation right now.

Other than that, the prince was almost achingly pretty. He had quite handsome features, long, thick eyelashes that practically kissed his naturally flushed cheeks, perfectly round, plump lips, messy bangs falling effortlessly over his brows. His regal attire, though a little dirtied from the abduction, still extravagant, embroidered with gold thread and intricate patterns. He looked dainty and fragile all tied up. The prince reminded you of a doll.

A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused?

You supposed you didn’t cut the most terrifying figure. No scary scars, no missing eye or other limbs. Just plain clothes, a dagger at your hip, and an unimpressed expression.

The prince speaks up. “Are you part of a rebellion? Do you want to overthrow the monarchy?”

“No.”

He lazily grins, eyes trailing down to the ropes binding him. “Hmm. Then this is… a little provocative, don’t you think?”

“The hell.” You furrow your brows at a loss of words. “No! Ransom. This is for ransom! ”

“Ah.”

“You’re the prince. Your face is probably worth more than my entire life. When your daddy finds out his beloved son has been captured, I’m sure he’ll give me all the money I ask and you’ll go back to your fancy castle.” You lean back, sighing, just imagining how much gold you’ll accumulate soon, “Don’t worry, your kingdom will pay good money to have you back.”

The prince snorts. “Will they?”

You frown. “…Yes?”

He gives you a pitiful look, “I hate to say it but I think they’ll be more relieved than horrified I’m gone, to be completely honest.”

You cross your arms in confusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He says, shifting in his restraints, “that my father finds me to be an insufferable disappointment. If you think he’s going to shell out a fortune to get me back, you’re sorely mistaken. No one in that castle can stand me, too much of a ‘troublemaker’ or something apparently.”

You stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” The prince replies cheerfully. “You should have kidnapped my brother Prince Huening Kai instead. They would have had a heart attack. If you’d taken him, they’d probably have sent an entire army after you by now.”

“I wasn’t even aware there were two of you.”

“Five actually.” He adds, “Maybe you should have done some research before kidnapping royalty.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, which one are you then?”

“Prince Beomgyu!” He beams, grinning widely, looking proud and smug, his expression entirely too relaxed for someone tied to a chair in a stranger’s cottage.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you were beginning to think.

It had been days.

And absolutely nothing.

No guards barging down your door, no royal army marching through the forest, no frantic messenger bird clawing at your window with a desperate letter from the king, promising to give you all the money in the land for his poor son back.

Just pure silence.

You were starting to think either something happened to your messenger bird on the way or gods forbid, they really, truly didn’t want him back.

“I told you.” Beomgyu’s voice was maddeningly smug from where he was still bound to the chair. “Face it. They don’t want me back.”

You put a hand to your hip. “You’re lucky I haven’t gagged you.”

“Oh?” The prince raises a brow, smirking.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Gods. You’re disturbed.” You turn away to check the kettle heating by the fire. You were going to need tea. Lots of it.

You take a tea cup in your hand, pouring the earthy, floral brew that you had foraged from the forest, steam rising in swirls and you bring it to your mouth to drink. The warmth seeping through your fingers and into your chest, making you slightly more calmed about this whole maddening situation. Beomgyu’s eyes are on you the entire time. You supposed you could give him some too. “Here. Have some tea.”

“Can’t exactly help myself, can I?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, walking over to him, bringing a cup to his soft lips for him to sip and he looks up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes almost like he’s heavily enjoying that you’re doing this for him.

He swallows, furrowing his brows and smacking his lips together, savouring the taste. “Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.”

You cross your arms, nodding in approval, “It’s the best. Practically survive on it.”

He seems amused by your love for tea, nodding, sipping some more until he’s finished and you place the cup back on your counter.

You study him intently, intrigued. “So, why were you sulking around so much by the pond, kicking rocks at fairies before I—well, pointed a dagger at your throat.” There’s no easy way to describe the situation.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know there was a fairy there?” Beomgyu protests, finding it humorous. “But, they’re forcing me to marry some princess from some other kingdom. I don’t even know her. I don’t want to get married at all.” He grimaces, staring at the ground with furrowed brows. “I hate being a prince. I have no freedom or say in anything. It’s so suffocating. I must act in a certain way, all these duties, now marriage. I don’t want any of it.” Beomgyu looks uncharacteristically and genuinely upset about it, the most sad you’ve seen him, and that’s you holding him captive.

You blink, then almost laugh. “Wow. Poor you. You really have the worst life. Must be so hard having all your meals cooked and servants at your beck and call, sleeping in a massive bed with silk sheets. In a castle. Truly.”

The prince furrows his brows at your mocking tone. “You don’t get it. It’s not all that great, you know.”

Your scoff, crossing your arms. “No, I get it. you’re incredibly privileged for those to be your only problems.”

He sulks at you, shrugging. “I guess so. I’d still rather have your life though, a peaceful, mundane, peasant life.”

You give him a flat look, nearly amused at his comical, out of touch words. “It’s far from peaceful. I’m incredibly in debt at the moment and owe money to lots of people, scary people I can’t even begin to repay. I’m doing this because I need the ransom money. You wouldn’t last a day in the real world.”

“I would!” He heavily pouts at you, taking offence. It’s almost endearing. “Anyway honestly, being held hostage has been much better than any day at the castle.”

You shake your head at the prince, sighing.

Beomgyu talked. A lot. About the castle gossip, about the ridiculous scandals of the court, all their carefully polished lies sold to the commoners, about all his other brothers, Prince Yeonjun’s scandalous new affair.

You were very entertained, the tea you make, since it seems to be one of the only things he likes, and these conversations weirdly happening regularly.

“No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea.

He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.”

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to like having beomgyu around, in a way that both irritated and intrigued you.

He was for sure a bratty prince, complaining endlessly about almost everything, the chair, food, the ropes digging into his skin (you had tied them more gently), dramatically whining about a small splinter he got because of the chair (you actually took it out for him and gave him a bandage).

But…for all his whining, very strange comments, and being a royal pain in the ass, (and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud), the strange companionship he offered, despite the messed up predicament, was starting to feel…maybe comforting? when you’d had nothing in the past but your cat, living alone in your cottage.

He’d become company. Real company. It had been so long since you’d had that.

You had one thing in common, you both hated your realities and wanted to get away. And you could, if this damn king would send you the ransom money and come collect his son. You’re honestly astonished. Would they even come for him? What were you supposed to do with him if they never come?

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive.

You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now.

“My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.”

You raise a brow. The audacity. But with a long sigh and contemplation, you wandered over, standing before him. He blinks up at you, the brown strands of his hair over his eye, genuinely a little pathetic and silly looking.

You brush your fingers through his messy strands gently, absentmindedly. His hair was so soft. His pretty brown eyes locked with yours, eyes following your face, unblinking, unusually quiet for once. Close.

And gods, was he pretty.

Your touch lingered longer than probably necessary, tucking the last of his bangs behind his ear, fingertips brushing against his warm skin. You swear the tips of his ears were pinker than usual too.

You finally step back, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest, you could only scowl at him.

Your kidnapping had been, by all accounts, a complete and utter failure. It had not been the most fearsome hostage situation either, your intimidation tactics quite lacklustre, no violence, no torturing, and no damn money.

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too.

“Well,” Beomgyu drawls one evening from his usual spot, watching as you made dinner, slicing some carrots for a stew, “you know. You’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Why, disappointed?”

His lips quirk into a lazy grin. “Hardly.”

That makes you pause, stopping your chopping of the vegetables, turning around with an incredulous look, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.”

“I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms.

He shrugs in his restraints, “I know you won’t hurt me. You haven’t tortured me once. Not even a little.”

“Oh?” You grab your dagger, making your way towards him, flicking some of his hair out his face with the tip of it and then tracing the blade slowly along his cheek, the prince shivers at the feeling of the steel on his skin. “How are you so sure?” His breath hitches almost looking scared for a second, but then he smirks. He was thrilled, eyes never leaving yours and yours never leaving his, the eye contact, intense.

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider.

With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard, his skin prickling up and chest heaving. You scoff at his words. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A flush creeps over his cheeks as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on.

He purses his lips together for a second, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows but then he runs his mouth again, voice a little breathless, “What are you going to do about it?” Where on earth does he gain this confidence from?

“Leave you. That’s disgusting.” You say, pulling your dagger away in theatrical repulse and moving away from him.

Beomgyu splutters in panic, pathetically pleading. “B-but! Wait! Please. It hurts.” You smile, satisfied, stepping closer to him once again. That’s more like it.

“Why should I?”

He just looks up at you so severely desperate, so pitiful. And as if drawn by some invisible force, definitely not of your own doing, you grab and tug at one of the ropes, impulsively leaning down to kiss him, he kisses back instantly, fervently, leaning into the kiss as much as his bindings would allow, lips crashing together, all heated and messy, beomgyu whines softly into your mouth and gods help you, it does things to you. You bite down on his plump lower lip until he gasps, shoving your tongue down his.

You trace your lips down his neck, ghosting over, warm breath sending him shivering before you bite and suck harshly.

“Please.” He pants, delirious, so worked up already, eyes squeezed shut. “Touch me. Please.”

How could you refute? He squirms in his chair when you begin to palm him through his pants, already embarrassingly hard, gasping so loudly, jaw going slack just from that. Beomgyu bucks helplessly into your touch as you continue to teasingly grind your palm, kissing and sucking on his neck again, he’s all just needy whines and whimpers, pleas falling from his lips for a little more.

You love his reactions and the pathetic noises he makes, so worked up from a litt no le palming. You want more of it, you want to break the pretty little prince. You sit in his lap, unzipping his pants before him, cock just as pretty as every other part of him, leaky, wet and red, you brush your thumb over his cute tip, spreading the precum teasingly slow, watching his face.

“Oh…” Beomgyu looks down himself, brows knitting together, shuddering and groaning softly.

The sound when you wrap your hand around his cock and glide your hand up and down is impossibly loud over the crackling of the fire in your cottage, sticky and squelchy and the prince already seems far gone from the slow pumping, unraveling at the first stroke, pupils blown wide, glossy lips parted. How dirty.

“Did you seriously get hard from your captor threatening you with a dagger? You’re fucking sick, beomgyu.” You ridicule him in a faux saccharine tone, hand pumping his dick faster, twisting around the tip that he’s panting now. You can tell he’s close, moaning out prettily.

He still manages to bite back though like the brat he is so clearly he’s not that much of a mess you like you want him to be. “You’re the one who kidnapped me. You’re sick.”

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away.

He loudly cries at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t. “No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, “fuck me.”

You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince.”

He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum.

“Aw. What a poor little prince.” You mockingly coo at him, stroking his cheek but he leans into it anyway, wanting any sort of touch from you now, you drag your teeth against the lobe of his cute pink ear licking, goading him. He shivers at that, sucking in his breath.

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu pouts.

“I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.”

“Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.”

“This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously.

“Yeah. Fuck me now.” Beomgyu looks like he might combust if you so much as deny him another second, his cock twitching in the open air, painfully red and glistening. You haven’t touched him in what? Seconds? But it feels like an eternity to him. “Just…please—”

You don’t even wait to hear more of his insufferable begging, you lift your skirt and hips up, pushing your panties to the side and sinking down on his dick unceremoniously, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, gasping sharply.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “You’re, oh my gods—”

Beomgyu throws his head back, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm tight pussy around him. You start to bounce on his cock continuously, riding him and holding onto his shoulders roughly to stabilise yourself., beomgyu moaning shamelessly loud, high pitched and strangled like a girl, dumb and dazed, drooling onto you at the feeling of your pussy.

You bring your hand to his cheek, kissing beomgyu hard, hands tangling in his long hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he sinfully and filthily moans into your mouth. Then he pulls away.

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded.

“You’re disgusting.” But you hands wrap around his pretty, now marked and mauled neck anyway. Beomgyu gulps.

“Harder.”

You squeeze harder around his neck and he hisses, furrowing his brows, face scrunching up gorgeously, a pretty vein in his neck popping out. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gasping for air, letting out breathy noises, face and neck flushed, you press down just a little more, still bouncing on his cock, deliberately clenching around him. You feel him twitching inside you and then he cums, whole body convulsing, spilling his load inside your pussy.

But you don’t stop, bringing your hand to his shoulders roughly again, digging your nails into him, fucking him through it. He whimpers painfully, straining against the ropes, could only take whatever you give him.

“stop!—ah! too much, too sensitive…” Beomgyu sniffles and sobs, gasping at the overstimulation, babbling incoherently.

“No it’s not. You were begging to be fucked, now it’s too much for you?” You tighten your grip on his shoulders.

He’s about to whine and complain but you take two of your fingers, stuffing them in his mouth to shut him up, he sorrowfully sucks on them like a slut instead, gazing up at you with teary eyes and his pretty wet swollen lips. Gods. Just looking at the state of him, pretty, writhing, helplessly tied up, it’s making you go insane. He still looks like a doll, face red and rosy, dolly lashes thick fluttering and clumped together with tears, soft hair now all messy. A wrecked, cracked porcelain doll, your doll, yours to ruin and play with. What a whore of a prince.

You bounce on his dick mercilessly, riding him faster and faster and faster to get yourself to reach your high too, bringing your finger to your clit, rubbing. One final look at beomgyu’s face, pitiful doe eyes and sucking on your fingers and that does it, Cumming around his twitching dick. With a muffled scream and sob, beomgyu’s cumming again, looking like he’s going to pass out, spurting and shooting more of his warm and sticky white ropes of cum into you, cumming so much, it’s all creamy, completely milking him dry, his whole body shaking beneath you.

Only then do you reach for your dagger again, slicing the rope, slithering to the ground. Beomgyu falls forwards instantly, collapsing into your arms, gripping and clinging to you, trembling like a leaf, hands roaming all over you and hugging you tight, the first time he could actually touch you. And beomgyu kisses you so desperately over and over, like he’s starved, hands shaking, clutching your clothes, you keeping his cheeks feeling equally starved.

But your kissing is interrupted by a messenger bird throwing a scroll with an unmistakable royal crest through your window. You get up to read it:

An armed procession will arrive by nightfall to collect our Prince Beomgyu in exchange for the agreed ransom.

— His Majesty, the King.

“Are you…going to return me back then?” Beomgyu says quietly, like he already knows the answer and is fearing it, his shoulders are slumped, already looking miserable and like a devastated puppy, thinking about having to return back to living in the castle.

You think for a moment. You fold the scroll neatly, setting in on the table. “No.”

Beomgyu blinks, “No?”

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one.

You both start giggling like idiots.

By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned.

And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, longe gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: do not ask what this is 😭 I know it makes zero sense but thats kinda the point it was just supposed to be unhinged unserious crack smut 😍🫶

#cams!bookshelf #I LOVE BEOMGYU

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