#I WANT THIS GOD FORSAKEN PAINTING OUT OF MY SIGHT.

[mossy-rat]

lament for the yiling laozu

click for better quality | id in alt | insp under the cut

lament for icarus by herbert james draper

[bedlam-barbie]

Attention

Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x recruiter!fem!reader ; slight Salesman x fem!reader

Warnings: jealous!In-Ho; slightly obsessive!In-Ho; slightly suggestive themes and words: yearning; angst; probably ooc!In-Ho

Word count: ~4k

Author’s note: sooo this is my first fanfiction I have written in 10 years, what this man does to me… I needed some more recruiter!reader as I am so obsessed with the idea. I also included the Salesman as he is my other guilty pleasure. I deeply want to write a part 2 , let me know if you are interested!

Hwang In-Ho had always hated clubs. He hated the obnoxious music. He hated the smell of sweat and desperation. He hated people pushing into each other. He hated the shameless displays of people grinding and almost taking their clothes in the middle of the dance floor. He hated the cheap liquor diluted with water. He hated random people getting it on in those disgusting toilets. It was safe to say, In-Ho would rather be anywhere else than there. 

But there was one thing he didn’t hate about it. 

Her hair was bouncing to the rapid rhythm, her body somehow knowing how to sway to every beat of every song, sending him into a trance. She would always make eye contact with him lip syncing to the filthiest lyrics. Her lips always painted in a beautiful red color almost begging him to come over and taste them. It was almost like their own ritual. He would sit at their reserved table in a leather armchair, nursing a glass of whiskey, while she would be just within his eye reach dancing, a mischievous look behind those oh so pretty eyes. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, unless absolutely having to, she would not look at him, not address him. It was like In-Ho was not worthy of her attention. He was aware he fucked up, that was the whole reason he even showed up to this God forsaken rats’ nest. The more she ignored him, the more starved he became, a combination of anger and hurt playing at his heartstrings. 

Lust and guilt coiled tightly within him, indistinguishable from one another. She wasn’t just beautiful—her beauty was deliberate, a weapon she wielded with precision. And him, unarmed and unprepared, stood squarely in her sights. He should’ve looked away. He didn’t. In-Ho took another sip of the whiskey as he watched her dance with him as he contemplated what has brought him to this specific moment.

It was a sunny morning in Seoul, a rare occurrence in the grey autumn. He looked over at the other side of the bed, finding her sleeping peacefully. She was sleeping on her back, her beautiful hair splattered on the black satin pillow. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, his white crisp shirt covering almost nothing of her perfect figure. For the first time since he had met her 3 years ago, she looked delicate, youthful, carefree. Gone were the sassy attitude, the makeup, the expensive clothes and her sharp tongue. In-Ho placed a soft kiss between her breasts as he made his way out of the bed into the shower. 

The smell of her skin, the sound of her voice moaning, the softness of her delicate body, they were all stuck in his mind, as well as her little love confession. He was planning to get started on breakfast, make some coffee, treat her like a princess. As he exited his shower, he took a look at his phone, making sure he hadn’t missed any important work-related calls. The games were going to start in just over a week and everything had to be perfect. That’s when he saw the date. 

25th of October.

In-Ho’s heart dropped as he read it over and over again. No, it wasn’t possible. The 25th was going to be in a few days. He franticly opened his calendar checking again.

And again online.

And again, on his physical one.

And all over again on his phone.

He felt a rush of panic wash through him. Hwang In-Ho was not a man that panicked. Or a forgetful man. Ever. But even so the thought was plaguing his mind: He had forgotten. How could have that happened? Afterall, it was the anniversary of his wife’s death. He would always buy her flowers on the 25th. He would always bring them over to her grave. He would always spend at least 2 hours speaking to her, to her and their unborn child. 

Well, until now, he did at least. Uncontrollable anger burned through his mind. Anger at himself, anger at her. He was supposed to be at the cemetery. Not saying yes to her invite to have some drinks at the bar near their work. Not letting a spoiled insane subaltern seduce him with her long lashes and playful smiles. Not fucking said stupid girl who was two whole decades younger than him. 

He didn’t even realize when she sneaked behind him, putting her arms around his waist and smiling into his back.

“Good morning, handsome” her voice whispered softly. 

The sweetness in her voice made his heart flutter. Which in turn, made him even more inexplicably angry. His body tensed up under her touch and he pushed her arms away. 

“Someone woke up to the wrong side of the bed” she teased.

Under any other circumstance, he would have been amused. She would always tease him and he quite frankly found it as endearing as it also turned him on.

“It’s time for you to go” In-Ho replied coldly.

He could see her tense up as well. Her hands crossed over her body. His dress shirt which he found so unbelievably hot on her earlier now looked like a painful reminder of his own shame.

“Excuse me?” her voice was controlled but she was hiding her built up anger as well.

“I said, you should leave. You were great last night and everything, but let’s not treat it as if it was more than us scratching an inch.” His voice was measured and he looked into her eyes. He could see she was hurt by his words. Damn it, he hated seeing her in pain. 

“In-Ho, you said you loved me last night. You told me how long you’ve waited to say it, to kiss me. You kissed me as if you were dying and I was the only thing that could save you.” 

God, she was right. He did and say it all, and he did mean it. His face was cold unenterable.

“Maybe you should not listen to what old perverted men like me tell you. God, your father really did a number on you if you are dumb enough to sleep with any old men.” In-Ho knew his words would hurt her, but he needed her to stay away. It was better like this. The anger he harbored in that moment for himself and for her would only end in one way: violence. And while he was all for rough play, he would not touch her in that way. 

“I called you a taxi already”

Smack

The sound of her hand hitting him across the face echoed in the penthouse. His jaw clenched, his eyes suddenly burning of desire. The thoughts of his wife finally stopped and there was nothing but silence. Without giving it another thought, his palms found her cheeks pulling her into a desperate hungry kiss. He felt her body tense up and she pulled away.

Smack

Her eyes were burning of unspoken anger and pain, some tears threatening to fall. She angrily spit in his face. It took him by surprise. Everything was so quick.

“Fuck you” she whispered.

She turned around grabbing the remains of her dress and heels and she hurried out. She looked almost pathetic. Her figure gathering everything in the stupid white shirt. To him, she never looked so small, so broken and his heart almost ached. When she left, silence took over completely. In-Ho knew he screwed up, badly, but in that second, her feelings were the last thing on his mind. 

The next time they met was just after the games, earlier tonight. She had not tried contacting him after the incident and neither did he. Whether it was guilt or his shame it did not matter. He poured it all into the games. In-Ho tried to pretend it was just another incident that did not affect him in the slightest. At the end of the day, she was just another employee, another recruiter. He promised himself he would never betray the memory of his wife again. As long as he did not see her it was fine.

Then it came the celebration. Oh Il-Nam decided for everyone in the company to meet for dinner and a poker night at one of the most reputable places in Seoul. Their blackjack table was set apart from the others in a private room overlooking the city. It was a tradition after all, every year after the end of the games, they would come together to celebrate it. As he was very much aware, that would probably be the last one hosted by Il-Nam and as Frontman and the next in line to take his place as the Host, he knew it was mandatory for him to attend regardless of personal feelings.

At first, he told himself that it was fine. That he will see her again and they would both be acting professional for the sake of Il-Nam. While she was an attention seeker through and through, In-Ho was not about to grant her the satisfaction of regretting his choices. As expected, he was one of the first ones to arrive. One by one all appeared before the scheduled time 20:00. His heart quickened as the arrival time came and went but she was not there. He scoffed to himself. Of course she was late, always making an entrance, always captivating the eye of every man that dared to breathe in her presence. In Ho liked to lie to himself and say it never affected him like that. Sure, she was stunningly beautiful, but she was just another woman. And then she did finally appear.

Dressed in a mini black Yves Saint Laurent dress hugging every curve of her body, her red bottom heels clicking as she made her entrance. Her signature red lipstick and blow out making her look utterly ethereal. She had a black leather trench that one of the valets quickly pulled down. She was wearing tight high stockings and for a few seconds, In-ho forgot how to breathe. The officer looked at him knowingly and handed him a glass of whiskey.

She was a storm that commanded surrender, and everyone fell willingly.

Throughout the whole night, she did not even glance once towards him. She sat down next to the Salesman. God, how he disliked that one. In-Ho saw him as nothing more than a psychopath. A useful psychopath, but none the less, a psychopath. He never even bothered to know his name, for him it did not matter, he was as important like a gum stuck onto his shoe. He could remark that he was a loyal one though, every year bringing one of the biggest number of recruits for the games, as big as the ones she did. After all, he was the one that recruited him as well. He supposed his disdain for the man came from that. 

As dinner finished, the mandatory game of blackjack started. At this point it was tradition. It was Il-Nam’s favorite game and as it was most probably the last year he would take part in it; he saw it as proper to participate. However, he could not concentrate on the game. He heard her giggle, and his eyes instinctively went to find her.

In-ho saw her arrange the Salesman’s tie, while whispering seductively in his ear, her hand touching his chest for a little more time than necessarily. He felt himself getting angry as he saw the perfectly manicured hands traveling onto the other man’s body. It was not like he has not seen it before. He was perfectly aware of her flirtatious manners, at the end of the day, she acted the same way towards him. So why was he getting so irrationally angry?

“I win again. At this point, you guys have to try a little harder, it is getting exhausting to keep on seeing you lose” she said smugly as she dragged the tokens towards her, a smirk playing on her perfect lips.

“And what do I win, if I may be so indiscreet?” the Salesman’s voice purred close to her ear. 

“Children, behave, there are elders present” In-Ho’s voice rang before he could control it. He was starting to get irritated by the sound of his stupid voice.

“Oh, In-ho, it’s fine. I think it is rather exciting to raise the stakes. You know how these young ones are, they would do anything for the thrill” Il-Nam’s voice said amused. “And after all, I think they would make quite a dashing pair.”

Jealousy coiled in his chest like a venomous snake, hissing and writhing with every stolen glance he dared to throw at her. What did he even mean? The Salesman was 40 for god’s sake, and she was 25! It was not as if they were witnessing some sort of young exciting love story. No, it was a psychopath and a brat trying to get his attention. However, he gave a cold smile towards the pair and returned to his hand, wishing this night would end already. He had no idea that it was just getting started.

After about two hours, Il-Nam announced that he would be leaving. And that was the moment, In Hu knew things were about to take a turn. Until that moment, everything between her and the Salesman were casual touches. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he was aware of her intentions to make him suffer in every way she could imagine, and he was not about to let her succeed. 

“Full house” her voice sang. 

She won. Again. It would have been impressive if it was not so annoying. Did she have to be so good at everything? In Hu thought gritting his teeth. It was unfair how natural everything came to her. She was the most interesting and exciting person he had ever met. Every single move was perfectly executed with grace laced by playfulness, her fingers intertwined with a martini glass in one hand and a cigarette in another. Every time her lips pressed to the filter fascinated the Frontman completely. Every strand of hair framing her soft features, reminding him of the night they spent together.

“Not going to lie, you guys are really boring” she said raising an eyebrow. “But since I won again, I propose the following, you each owe me a drink at a place of my choosing.” 

“And where would that be?” The Officer asked.

“Oh, I want to go dancing” she smirked as she left the martini glass on the table.

“Dancing? I would rather shoot myself” In-Ho scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, did you win? No, I didn’t think so” she said looking straight into the man’s eyes.

 If looks could kill, he would have been a dead man. 

“Well, I for one would love to take you anywhere you wanted. A deal is a deal” the Salesman added, his hand slipping on her exposed back.

While going to a club was the last thing that In Hu wanted, he was not going to let him take her out of his sight. He clenched his jaw tightly. He thought about how easy it would be to simply pull out his gun on that psychopath’s head and simply end it right now. God why did she have to make it so messy? While replaceable, he thought about the hassle he would have to go through to find another man to take his job and actually do it as well. No, killing the Salesman would only create more problems for himself, but the image of her pretty face being covered in a quick splash of his blood was tempting. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

And now there he was, watching her like a hawk, toying with his drink, while she was dancing with someone he should had squished like a bug, the second he got in power. No matter, in all due time, he would be gone. His beautiful muse was swaying seductively to the beat of the song while playing with the Salesman’s tie, her eyes hungry for more. In Hu knew that look well. It was the same look she had in her eyes while she was on top of him just a few weeks ago. Hungry, desperate, mischievous. 

“So, are you going to do something or let that piece of trash get your woman?” the Officer inquired pulling the Frontman out of his spell.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” In Hu replied coldly downing the rest of the drink. He had asked the bartender for the whole bottle; he knew he would need it the second they entered. He lit up a cigarette while pouring another glass, his eyes still stuck on the two of them.

“Come on, you look ready to jump and kill him on the spot” the other man said lighting up a cigarette of his own. While technically not allowed on the premises of the club, what were they going to do? Kick them out? 

“Maybe I will” 

“We both know that would be unwise. And besides, I’ve seen her stealing glances at you, that is exactly what she wants. So do all of us a favor and fuck her good, cause if you don’t… I just know he would make sure she screams.”

“Mind your tongue, Officer.”

“Come on man, we both know her type. Bitches like her need to know their place.”

The second the words came out of his mouth, In hu took his cigarette from his lips swiftly and extinguished it on the back of the man’s hand. He would not have anyone speak that way, not of her. The Officer winced in surprise but did not have the courage to say another word. This was a warning.

“Next time I will not be so nice about it. Speak another ill word about her and I just might shatter a glass and cut that finger of yours off. Or better yet, your tongue.”

His eyes went back to the show in front of him. There was his woman, dancing now on the top of the bar with a bottle of Don Perignon champagne. Her smile was big and seductive, her moves perfectly rehearsed. God, the more he looked at her the more stunning she looked. Her skin glistened under the club light. Her hair once styled to perfection was bouncing around wildly to the music. She moved effortlessly, like gravity was an afterthought, and the air around her seemed taut, tethered to her presence by an invisible string.

Seeing her like that, made his heart flutter. She truly was spectacular. And for a second, she looked at him again. He could have sworn the planet stopped spinning in that moment. Everyone else fading into darkness as if they were the only two people in the world. 

“Do you believe in true love?” Her question surprised him.

It was the night they met randomly in the bar by the office. In Hu was dressed in a jet-black Versace suit, his hair slicked backed. Expensive shoes were slowly tapping to the sound of jazz music in the background. He took a moment before he responded, his face staring into his empty glass. 

“If you had asked me this 5 years ago, I would have said yes.”

“And now?”

“Only sometimes. Usually when I look at you.” 

His words surprised even himself. Maybe it was the one too many glasses of whiskey, or the way she looked at him from behind those doe eyes. Maybe it was the way her knee was slightly touching his or her scent. Amber and vanilla. Always amber and vanilla, sometimes with a faint cigarette smell. She smiled and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. If only she knew the effect she had on him, he would never hear the end of it.

“Now, Sir, maybe you should stop speaking like that or I might start to believe you are in love with me”

In Hu did not respond but a smirk appeared on his lips. He leaned over to her and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His palm then travelled onto her cheek finally resting by her lips. She looked at him, a seductive grin taking form. Carefully, she kissed his palm, and each finger, while maintaining the Frontman’s gaze. When done with her little show, she lightly took his thumb in her mouth slowly sucking on it.

“Tsk tsk, little dove, careful what you wish for” he warned her, his face stern but feeling his heart rate go slowly upwards. 

Her eyes effortlessly left his, her attention peaked by the Salesman’s voice, breaking their trance. As soon as he no longer felt her gaze, In-Ho made up his mind. He had made a mistake, one that he would do anything to fix. While he hated the way the Officer spoke about her, he was right about one thing. She was his woman after all, and this cat and mouse game was getting old. He was man enough to admit that he had lost against her and now all he wanted was to take her to his bed and fuck her hard to show her who she belonged to. He got up the sofa just as he saw her get down from the bar. 

“Finally,” the Officer muttered.

“Did I not make myself clear last time?”

In Hu’s voice snapped glaring at his colleague, taking his eye off her for just a second. His gaze went back to the spot he had left her but she was no longer there. In the dark he saw a glint of the back of her dress leaving towards the side of the bar. The Frontman finished his drink and made his way to follow her. He was not even sure what to say to her, he had never acted impulsively before. Every single one of his actions had been perfectly calculated for the past few years. 

Lost in thought he had caught up with her. That’s when he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. Her back was pressed against the wall, her hands folded around the Salesman’s neck, fingers tangled into his dark black hair. His woman’s legs were resting around his torso. He could make out the man’s face buried deep into her neck kissing it sloppily, her head tilted slightly on the side, a soft moan escaping her beautiful lips. And then she looked straight ahead into In Hu’s eyes. A sarcastic smile played on her mouth. Fuck you, her eyes said before capturing the Recruiter’s lips in a passionate kiss, her beautiful legs pulling him in closer to her own body.

The Frontman froze for a few seconds as he watched them kiss as if there was no tomorrow, their bodies busy in a seductive tango. Anger and jealousy danced within his veins fueling his body completely. Not now, he thought desperately trying to keep his mask of coldness from cracking under the club lights. But deep inside he also felt the familiar sting of a feeling he long ago buried. 

Pain. Gut wrenching pain. 

[vellichorom]

( via @maryssecretblog )

cracks my knuckles so hard i break my hands; ohh beloved mary i've been sitting on a mountain of bitterness since i first picked up hollow knight in 2020, & i'm sure i've said a couple of these things on main before but i'm laying them out again Right Now

the hollow knight fandom is fucking HORRIBLE about godseeker & i will never not be upset about it;

for being the gateway manifest to the game's infamous boss rush DLC that feeds us a little extra lore, leads to the ending most favor & introduces THE SHADE LORD - everyone's FAVORITE manifestation of the void & evolution of the protagonist... she is so painfully overlooked,

& if she's not painfully overlooked, she is disgustingly sexualized; her glorification of abuse by the hands of a god bastardized & taken to paint her as a pervert ( WHICH IS ESPECIALLY ABHORRENT if you stand with the idea that the protagonist is likely Not an Adult & the shade lord is undoubtedly The Protagonist ), her role twisted & simplified to be the shade lord's / the knight's bitch or wife or someone it needs to avoid because she's some kind of predator;

& if she's not sexualized or used as ship fodder, then she is treated as a horrible BITCH who deserves her death & every bit OF abuse one can fling at her because she dared not be nice to The Protagonist - nevermind that plenty of other characters can do the same or straight up KILL THEM & they're seen as fandom favorites ( see; Tiso, The Pale King, Hornet, fucking Everyone in the game ) & nevermind the fact that The Protag also invaded her mind without permission & started fucking around ( not that i'm saying it deserves to be bashed for it but you know. it did walk into the ass kicking arena (( the godseeker / knight dynamic isn't a fault of anyone's, it's just a lot of ' you did this so now this happens ' )) )

& i'm so. sick. can we take off our jackass glasses for 5 seconds & look at her critically, i'm begging you. hollow knight fandom. i'm going to strangle someone

godseeker is a FASCINATING character, right up there with all the higher beings themselves; godseeker is a character that hails from a far off land, presumably forsaken by the gods of it to the point that it stands in perpetual ruin, having toiled & crawled her way to hallownest in search of the pale king's divine light only to be met with a KINGDOM of powerful gods. only to be MYSTERIOUSLY locked up before being able to attune until you, as the protagonist, free her. & that pretty much unleashes a domino effect that has a severe impact on what remains of the kingdom, that has a severe impact on EVERYONE'S fate including her own, depending on what you do.

you can choose to take on the remnants of the kingdom's gods, slay the one causing the plague that took them all out, & in your escape from her mind, punish & kill the one who perpetuated their legends, & EVEN end up in purgatory with her, where now YOU are the god of gods, at the cost of your freedom as well as her's - to live in glory forevermore.

but oh no, she's the whore bitch who was a little mean to you & wants daddy god to punish her.

get out of my sight you fucking worm you know nothing

[mellea-art-home]

Black Spire

I narrowly kept my life through the treacherous dangers that lead me here, a dead valley, neigh, it was a world unto itself, the dead raise of their own will, the sky a sickly orange, and clouds of dust blot out the sun. The rock and soil stained red, or a dull orange from the horrors of the blood spilled in these lands. The world has truly gone to hell, these are the only thoughts that can permeate my mind as I walk these damned plains towards my likely death. The only thing that can draw the eye in this vast open land was the cause of this nightmare, a black spire, it reached into the clouds, and a surface with uneven cleaving, like an imperfect diamond, its’ base and climbing most of the way up was a surrounding cathedral, tall towers leaning onto the hellish spire behind it, the rest of the building was sprawled out around the base of this spire, and climbing down the steep hill this structure sit upon.

The thin veins of the tower streaking down the sides looked like someone had let thin paint run down a canvas, the bricks seemingly wanting to match both the sickly sight of the land, and the spire that it was attached to, it was a dull brown from afar, the sun shining through clouds behind the structure that seemed to be a call to true hell. ‘Only the mad, or those who wish to die dare into those plains-’

‘You must want to die if you are going there!’

‘You’re insane, you know what you’ll find there, your own grave! You have nothing to gain, you’re just like the rest.’

‘What makes you think you’re so damn Special!’

The voices came to me as quick as the wind, all those who cursed at me, and shunned me for willing to sacrifice myself against this standing pillar of suffering and nightmares. There was never a belief, as all those who come here know their fate, and all think us mad forsaking our lives as if they are but a pebble, little else seems of worth for someone with nothing, so those of great valor who have lost all, and those of nothing who cannot hope for anything all walk the same path. 

I walked with a rhythm from my steps and armor, past body upon body of felled soldier, I looked down upon them all, and they were all different, but all shared one truth, they had no master, and bore no allegiance. These were but people of honor, or little else left to their name and life to give. I saw armor torn open like paper, and half buried husks of what was once someone like me. I dare not utter a prayer, this is a land forsaken by all gods, and to only be given to those of sorrow and loss. 

I set upon this path long before the decision was ever made by me, this was just the end for me, either by fate, gods, or some magnanimous other force, that I be laid to rest here, regardless of sorrow and grief upon this life I claim.

There I look up and have nearly met the base of my grave. I knew the fate of what comes by entering, but I knew I would not fall till I must collapse, as for all is lost, nothing is to lose. Even if I were to purge this land of this parasite, all who walk upon this land are cursed to it for eternity, so I merely raise my weapon and readied myself as I opened the door. 

I leave this for all who come after, all who have vowed for their loss to venture here, be brave, brace against yourself, and stand tall for no allegiance, king, country, or god follows, you are greater unto yourself through this decision than all who damned you here.

[sinfulcries]

victime des réseaux - saeko x male reader

author’s notes. I AM SUCH A SIMP FOR MISS TANAKA SAEKO. also this is super self indulgent i apologize for not writing my reqs JCJNJDS i promise i have a req that’ll be published soon mwah.

tw. dark content, infidelity, cheating, age gap (reader is 43 while saeko is 35), size difference, one time where saeko calls reader daddy, oral (m. recieving), blowjob, degradation, adultery, shoe riding, exhibitionism, mentions of alcohol, implied single mom! Saeko

You were quite literally, the definition of a perfect man according to society’s strict standard. Not only were you the CEO of a large scale company, having several branches all over Japan, You were also married to Alisa Haiba, a gorgeous half russian woman who also lovingly bore your children. You were living the life that many men aspired to have! However despite the spotless facade, you never really found yourself having fun in anything you do. Always so busy with providing for your family, the thought of anything else seemed to have slipped out of your mind as you worked and worked tirelessly every single day. 

Your wife was one smart woman, and she quickly caught on to how stressed you’ve been during the past few weeks. You were slowly burying yourself in piles of work and the time that you had allotted into spending time with your family was now being used to schedule meetings with your clients.

Alisa was more than worried for your well-being, and your children were starting to miss the times where their papa would spend time with them instead of focusing on your job, Which was what led you to where you were now, In a bar with all your friends as you guys washed all your problems away with the hard liquor that filled your guys’ glasses. “My other friend should be here in a minute guys!” Your wife cheered, a clumsy blush painted on her face as she attempted to hide her tipsiness with a wide smile.

You only chuckled at the sight of the adorable woman, placing a hand on her thigh as you continued to chat with your friends, catching up on their stories. “EVERYONE STARTING THE PARTY WITHOUT ME?” A loud voice interrupted your guys’ conversation, and soon enough your eyes were met with the gorgeous woman in front of you. Despite how tiny she was, she was absolutely stunning. the way her tan skin looked in the purple lights and the way her chest would poke teasingly with the skimpy shirt that she wore clearly had such an effect on you.

“Saeko! You actually came!” Alisa beamed, gesturing to the empty seat right beside you. Saeko gave you a cheeky smile in response, adjusting her leather jacket before taking a seat next to you, glancing at the golden band wrapped around your left ring finger. “So you must be Alisa’s husband aye?” She teased making you smirk at her words. “Correct. Nice to meet you, Tanaka-san.”

The blonde woman laughed at your response, giving your shoulder a playful punch as she poured herself a glass of beer. “Call me Saeko. We’re friends now, Y/n! No need to be so formal” You glanced at your wife for confirmation, making her nod excitedly as she took another sip of her drink. “Yeah! You guys are friends now! No need to ask me for permission, Милый” 

The night was soon filled with drunk chatter and passed out men. You and Saeko on the other hand were left behind to converse. Alisa had left a long time ago to take care of your children; however, she insisted that you stayed just so that you could loosen up and have some fun for a bit. Saeko was quite the charmer. Her stories about her little brother and tidbits from her interesting life were absolutely hilarious and you quickly found yourself enjoying her company, basking in the comfortable atmosphere as you two chatted the night away. The night was not only filled with drunk men but thoughts of doing sinful things to each other plagued both you and Saeko’s minds. 

“Normally I wouldn’t have the time for leisure.” You started, swirling the glass in your hand as you took another sip of the alcohol. “It was never in my deepest desire either to spend time for myself, or for anyone in fact.” 

Saeko hummed, tilting her head to the side curiously as she signalled for you to continue. “but one can never be certain of the things they deem as ‘enjoyable’. I have yet to find something or someone that I would consider as more than just free time.” 

God-- The alcohol in your system was making you think so irrationally. You had such a beautiful wife who was at home taking care of your children however, the woman in front of you was so fucking enchanting-- and the thought of fucking her in this god forsaken dirty bar was the only thing eating at you the more you spent time talking to her. 

“Oh? But you’re mister perfect, aren’t you? Thought you’d find some pleasure in fucking ‘Lisa at least.” Saeko teased, leaning so close to you that you could feel the warmth of her skin radiating against yours. “I’m far from perfect, silly. You know I could always fuck Alisa, but you know damn well that i’d rather take you on the spot.”

Saeko could feel her heart beating erratically at your words. Despite the several times that the two of you had met up in secret, she still nervously jittered at your choice of words. You were a man who knew exactly what you wanted, and despite how wrong it was-- You just felt too good to even resist. 

“It was hard pretending not to know you the first time I came in here dumbass.” The woman tried to change the topic with how thick the tension was becoming and you could only chuckle, your hand slowly inching towards her cunt as you circled your finger around her clit under the table. “Well she believed it didn’t she? Besides, she was drunk. She wouldn’t have noticed anyway.”

Need was flooding her senses at an alarming rate, and soon enough she was bucking against you fingers, begging for you to fuck her in the restroom. “Fuck it, let’s get out of here. I need you.” She mewled quietly, feeling the fabric of her panties dampening with each time you rubbed against her clit much faster.

“Glad you feel the same way, princess.” Feeling a smug grin worm it’s way onto your lips, you two were quick in making your way towards the small restroom. Your friends failing to notice your guys’ absence.  

Saeko was on her knees the moment you had dragged her into a vacant bathroom stall, the desperation only urging her to unbuckle your belt faster as she fished your cock out of your slacks. “Damn, what a needy whore you are.” You mused, grabbing the blonde by the back of her head before pushing her head towards your half-hard cock. “Always for you, daddy.” Smirking lazily in reply, she wasted no time in wrapping her swollen lips around the thick head, a loud groan slipping past your lips once she started to bob her head to the beat of the muffled club music. 

The woman was quite skilled with her mouth, especially with the way her slim fingers were wrapped around the base of your cock, pumping slowly as she felt every vein against her warm palms. You couldn’t help but let out another sultry moan, moving your hips forwards, effectively fucking Saeko’s hot throat. 

Chuckling breathlessly, you murmured, “Attagirl, look at you, slobbering all over my cock.” 

The shorter woman could feel her pussy getting wetter with each time you abused her throat and you quickly took notice of how needy she was getting as you gave her cunt a firm kick, signalling her to grind on your shoe like a needy bitch in heat. “What would your son think, seeing his mom getting face-fucked by a married man in a filthy restroom.”

A muffled moan was all that Saeko could muster up as she quickly bucked her lips against your shoe, letting her juices stain the expensive leather. She was bound to cum any second now, and soon enough the feeling of your large hand wrapping around her throat sent her over the edge, her tiny body convulsing right against your leg. The blonde attempted to pull away from your cock only to have her head pulled back in to take more of your length. You could feel your own cock twitching in her neck! And seeing the dumbed out expression on her flushed face made you want to capture the pretty sight. 

“I can feel my cock in your throat, Saeko. It’ll be fun sending you home with my cum dripping out of both your holes.” 

[bonny-kookoo]

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

[amor-immortalem]

Friends (With Benefits)

Minors DNI

A/N: Fair warning this is a mammonxoc smut-not a very good one but its a smut nonetheless- because its just that kinda day... It’s not the first one I’ve written but it’s the first one I’ve ever posted that hasn’t been part of a role play so... yeah. Do with that info what you will...

I'm not participating in kinktober but since its that time of year I figured eh why the hell not. Now, if you excuse me. I need some water.

Also I’m doing that 48hr post+ protest so any comments questions or concerns will be heard on the 4th.

Warning(s)?: unprotected sex, oral sex (Female receiving) size kink (if you squint)

Gods she needed to get off. She’d been down here on the exchange programme for about six months at this point and yeah, Asmodeus made it a point to make sure she had plenty of quality toys at her disposal for the year, but it just wasn’t as satisfying as the real thing. Not to mention, she never had a moment’s peace in this god-forsaken house to begin with. It was common place for Arella to come home to Mammon or one of his brothers making themselves at home here in her room or just barging in whenever they felt like it- no better way to kill the mood than getting walked in on by one of her housemates.

In fact, that’s the case today. Arella had come home a little earlier than the others due to them being stuck for a student council meeting for the express purpose of having some privacy and time to relieve her frustrations without risking the chance that one of those pesky demons would interrupt her. Of course, that wasn’t the case for her as waiting on her bed was the Avatar of Greed himself scrolling through his phone like it was no big deal- dressed in only a pair of grey sweat pants because of course he would be.

It was a nice view though. Despite Mammon’s frustrating hot-’n-cold attitude sometimes, he always is pleasing to look at and now in her desire-addled mind, Arella finds herself scanning over his form as her eyes drift lower and lower until...

“Ya gonna just stand there or...?” Mammon calls, not looking away from the screen of his phone.

Her face flushes at the notion that he’s caught her eyeing him up like a piece a meat. “Why’re you in here, Mammon? Surely, you have better things to do since you’re always so busy.”

“Well yeah, naturally, I’ve always got shit ta do but I said we were gonna do movie night after school today so...”

“Can you give me a few hours, please? I... have to take care of something.” Arella sighs when the demon makes no effort to leave but rather shifts a little to the point that the material of his pants leaves astoundingly little to the imagination.

She audibly swallows, trying so hard not to stare. Arella has to look away, her face an impossibly bright shade of red as her mind starts to wander into the gutter. She could always order him away with the pact but she always did hate using it unnecessarily. It’s not until she sees the smirk on his face that she knows he’s fucking with her.

“What’s so important that I can’t be here, huh?” Mammon drops his phone on the bed beside him.

“That smirk on your face tells me you know exactly why.” The human glares at him.

“Yeah ‘n that’s why ‘m not goin’,” The Avatar of Greed laughs, “Yer jus’ gonna have to suffer, Princess.”

“You are absolutely horrible, you know that?” Arella sighs in frustration. “C’mon, Mammon, just go, please. Unlike you, who has the luxury of going out to find a partner when you need to get laid, I can’t for risk that they’ll eat me afterwards so I have to take care of myself when it comes to that.”

“You could always just ask me to help ya...” The demon suggests. “Ever heard of the term ‘friends with benefits’?”

“Huh- Wha- I – Of course, I’ve heard of the term!” She crosses her arms as she huffs. “But friends with benefits only works when both parties don’t run the risk of catching feelings. And you strike me as the type who does.”

“What? No. Couldn’t be me.” The demon rolls his eyes as he looks away, “’sides you’d be doin’ me a favor too and ya can’t tell me that yer not even a little curious about what I’m like in bed. I heard ya this morning. Moanin’ my name and beggin’ me for more.” A smug smirk paints itself on his face as he gets up, approaching her, walking her back until she’s trapped between him and the wall. “Well? Ya got your chance with The Great Mammon now... ya gonna take it or blow it?”

Arella bites her lip as she mulls it over. It wasn’t like he was wrong. She did fantasize about him more than she should for someone who she considers a friend. “Fuck it,” she murmurs as she surges forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as she pushes him back towards her bed.

If the need wasn’t so urgent, she’d take her time with Mammon, but honestly, going for six months without any chance for release when she was used to being able to have it whenever only made her more desperate to find it now. Her hands traveled all along the demon’s body as she straddled his hips. She let out a soft moan as he shoved his tongue in her mouth and he rolled them over, grinding his hips against hers. He broke their kiss only to trail them down to her neck where he nibbled and sucked little love bites into the delicate skin on her neck.

Arella’s fingers carded through his snowy hair as she panted, head tilting to the side as he moved, his hands coming up work on unbuttoning her unform shirt, tossing it to the side once it was off. He wasn’t so gentle with her bra, choosing to rip it off and toss it away as if the article of clothing had offended him somehow.

“Mammon!” she gasped as she watched it go.

“What? Ya got a hundred more where that came from. If it’s that big a deal I’ll by ya a new one.” the greedy demon growls as he trails his lips down her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking as his fingers pinched and rolled the other one. Every once and a while he would lightly nip at her before circling it with his tongue. Arella would only tug at his hair impatiently signaling him to get on with it as he chuckled. “Here, get these wet for me.”

He prods her lips with his fingers and she takes them in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around them as he pushed them in further to the point that she was nearly gagging on them as he works on ridding her of her skirt and panties. As they slid down her legs, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her inner thighs, withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and tracing them down her stomach. He let his warm breath tease for a bit as she tried to rock her hips to spur him to action.

“Impatient, ain’t ya, Baby?” He chuckled, “Just hold still, you’ll get what ya want.”

“If you’d stop teasing, maybe I would,” she pouts, just wanting to feel him where she needed it most.

“As you wish, Princess.” The demon smirks as he spreads her open and licks a stripe from her opening to her clit and she could almost cry at how good it feels when he starts to gently suckle on the sensitive nub.

“Fuuuck, yes, right there,” She gasps at the feeling of his mouth on her and the prodding of one of his long fingers at her opening followed soon by a second. “Don’t stop...”

Her head tips back as she lets a pleasured sigh fall from her mouth, her hand coming down to knot itself in Mammon’s fleecy white hair to push him closer, drawing a moan from the demon. He has her dangerously close to the edge of oblivion without having even done much of anything.

“I’m so close, Baby, keep going.” she rocks her hips to match pace of his fingers before he pulls them away only to replace them with his tongue and she lets out a frantic cry as she feels the wet muscle work its way against her walls while his thumb rubbed tight circles around her clit.

“Don’t hold back. Let me have it.” He growls out as he returns to his ministrations and she absolutely loses it, body going tense as she lets out a strangled moan and she clenches around his tongue as she cries out his name.

The demon cleans her up as he helps her ride out her high before pulling away, making a show of licking his lips as he crawls his way back up her body. He leans down for another kiss and Arella moans at how she can taste herself on his lips and tongue. She used her knee to brush against his crotch listening to the beautiful groan he lets out at the sensation.

“Get those off,” The human says in reference to his sweat pants that now have a large stain of pre covering the front. “You need more or are you good to go right away?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He pushes himself up on his knees and slowly rids himself of his sweat pants allowing his cock to spring up, slapping against his belly.

Her jaw drops at the sight of him. She knew he was big- but damn. He absolutely would tear her apart if they we’re careful- and are those piercings? She can feel her mouth start to water as she looks up at him to see the predatory look in his eyes that were now a shining gold.

“That shut ya up real fast, didn’t it?” He chuckled as he lined himself up. “You ready or do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine.” A determined look crossed her eyes. “I’m more than ready.”

“Got a safe word?”

“Just use the traffic light system.” She hooks a leg over his hips to bring him closer. “I want this.”

The stretch she feels as Mammon enters her is as delicious as it is painful even with him taking breaks to let her adjust. Once he’s fully seated, he keeps still as she takes a moment to savor it. With a nod from her, he begins to rock his hips gently, upping his pace as he draws more moans and gasps and the occasional whine from his human. Soon he’s pounding into her as he slips into his demon form.

Her hands are at his back, digging into the skin near the base of his wings and scratching angry red lines down his back. She’s so tight around him that it’s intoxicating to the demon as he lets out a growl. He can feel her next climax is imminent by the way her walls are clenching and gripping him and the breathy pitchy cries of his name- by the way her eyes are nearly rolled back into her head as he pulls her legs up over his hips to hit deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming as his piercings drag along her walls and she cums for the second time that afternoon.

He slows his pace in consideration of the human but he never stops all together. As she starts to squirm from the overstimulation, Mammon holds her still.

“What’s your color, Baby?”

“Green,” Arella looks up at him and pulls him back down by the horns for a tongue filled kiss as he picks his pace back up.

She ran her fingers against the curls of his horns as the demon goes back to biting and sucking on her neck as the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of their moans, growls, and gasps and the sound of skin slapping against skin. “More! I need more, Mammon. Please.” She has tears slipping down her cheeks from the overstimulation. “It's so good... you’re so big...”

He growls as he hoists her legs up over his shoulders, nearly folding her in half as he thrust into her at a near animalistic pace hitting the deepest part of her as she cried for him. He was getting close to his release as he grasped her hand in his.

“Almost there... so close... Just keep squeezin’ me like that.”

“Me too!” Arella threw her head back, “Fuck, I’m so close. Cum inside.”

“Yer playin’ with fire, Princess. Ya really want that from me?”

“Yes! Yes!” Her grip on his hand tightened as she threw her head back. “Fill me up.”

He groaned as he felt her walls tighten once more as she hit her last release. “Shit... haah... fuck. I’m cumming!” Mammon buries his face in her neck as his thrusts falter. His cock twitches as he fills her with his seed until she’s overflowing with a mixture of their fluids.

They ride out their highs together, letting out soft groans and gasps as the demon pulls her legs down from his shoulders. They stare at each other as they try to catch their breath, wide-eyed, sweaty messes before bursting into a fit a laughter.

“I can’t believe we did that,” He sighs as he leans his forehead against hers.

“That was... amazing...” She sighs, “Best sex I’ve had ever had... I don’t know about you but I need a nap after we shower and change the sheets.”

“Yeah, I second that...” Mammon groans as he pulls out and rolls out of bed. “I’ll start the water; you just pull the sheets off.”

Arella only gave him a thumbs up as she sat up, feeling considerably better than she had before she’d gotten home from school.

------------------------------------------------------

Find more on my masterlist

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[dabisrightnipple]

Gaming Dates with Shigaraki (drabble)

SHIGARAKI X READER

!!!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST AND/OR ADD ONTO!!!

Word count: 1.2k

Links

I was too lazy to turn this into a longer story so heres random domestic fluff to feed my nightly fantasies

To most, with one glance at the ‘maniac’ known as Tomura Shigaraki, they would most likely assume he's some ‘cold-blooded serial killer who kills everyone around him. Although they weren’t wrong there was one exception for the so-called ‘cold-blooded’, ‘shell of a man’ and it was you. 

One might ask, ‘How could such a girl as yourself tame a monster like him?” Well, it’s simple, really, he’s not a monster, never has been and never will be; though you had to find that out the hard way. 

You could vividly remember every detail that took place that night. How your tears burned into your red, inflamed cheeks. How the goosebumps ran throughout each nerve of your body, all hairs standing on edge as you anticipated what actions would take place next. You remembered the way the shiver crawled up your back when you made eye contact with those devilishly handsome cerulean eyes. 

The eyes of a monster, as others may call it . Though you were terrified out of your very mind the thought of him being a monster never struck your thoughts. No, no, how could someone think that? After all that same ‘monster’ was the reason why you were still alive and well to this day.

__________

A small wistful sigh escaped your lips as you reminisced upon the memory that was clouding your head, putting you in a dazed, dreamy state. Hot breath escaped your parted lips, fanning against the pale, tender skin of the man you were currently resting upon. 

“What’s up doll?” Your heart fluttered at the nickname, though you always expect to hear it from him when addressing you; it never failed to leave your body fluttering. (in more places than one)

“Mmm- Nothin’ jus’ thinkin’.” You slurred into his neck, nose nuzzling in deeper into the welcoming warmth that radiated from his figure. His body was currently being engulfed by you, which unbeknownst to you was making it hard for him to use the controls; though he didn’t mind.

Although he didn’t like to admit it, Tenko would do anything to spend more time with you, so if it meant almost losing his favorite game to have you sit in his lap you bet your ass he’s gonna lose that game a thousand times before he tells you to leave. 

Your ears picked up the delicate sound of the many profanities that strung out of his mouth, you felt as his body flexed from underneath you, followed by a soft groan. 

“D’ya lose again?” You cheekily asked, teasing the older male with your shit-eating grin. Though you meant to make him madder (in a jokingly-loving way) Tenkos face softened at the sight of you; in fact, he wasn’t even mad about losing any more. As long as Tenko had you in his arms, there was nothing to be upset about.

“Mph, shaddup.” You giggled in response, offering him a few pecks up his neck and jaw before leaning in to reward his hard work with a nice chaste kiss, which Tenko gladly received.

Shortly after you fell into a light slumber upon Tenkos chest. (which he secretly was ecstatic about, but would never admit) His gaze, soft as ever, stared down at your figure in a scared and fragile way.

 He wanted to run his fingers through your hair, massage your tensed muscles and draw little imaginary things on your back, such as flowers or dinosaurs. However, the thought was pushed away as the clouding depression came back at the memory of his quirk. 

He didn’t want to hurt you. He didn’t want to lose you like his mother.

Although he did wear his custom-made 2-fingered gloves he always felt a sense of guilt when touching you. It was almost as if he was preparing himself for a life of hate and grief once the last digit of his god-forsaken fingers touched your beautiful skin. 

He fought internally with himself for what could have been hours before he watched as you slowly woke up. The small scrunch that was displayed on your face pulled at his heartstrings as you yawned, regaining consciousness after your little ‘cat nap’. 

Although when your half-asleep dazed eyes fixated on his you noticed something was wrong, on top of that his game was still running yet he was focused on you. 

“Are you okay shiggs’?” You watched as the emotion built up behind his eyes. At first, you were confused. (Tenkos usual emotions and thought process consisted of rage, game, sleep, fuck)

“If I ever hurt you, would you forgive me?” 

Oh. 

Oh.

You flicked your painted black fingernail against the exposed part of his forehead.

“You idiot, why worry about that? It doesn’t matter how much you hurt me, you know I’ll always love ya.” You smiled, fingers caressing his cheeks.(making a note to have a spa session with him later) “Unless you decide to leave me or sum’ shit, then I’d wreck ya ass.”

“And I’d give you full permission.” Tenko giggled, now wrapping his arms around your back, a hand caressing the bass of your neck, careful to lift his pinky and ring finger as an extra precaution.

After a bit of doting upon each other Tenko decided he wanted to teach you how to play his game. You happily agreed, shifting around on his lap to face his PC ads he explained to you the controls and what they did. 

“Oh and there's different characters, which one do you wanna be?” He happily sang, going through the list of characters that he owned. 

“Hmmm, who’s your fav, shiggs?”

“Oh! This one!” Tenko spoke with excitement, a small smile working over his facial scars. His serotonin was definitely shooting through the roof at the thought of you enjoying his games. “His name is Razor, isn’t he so badass!”

You looked at the character in detail, his physique definitely fit Tenkos taste; white ragged hair, eye-bags, deep red eyes. You let a soft giggle out at the resemblance, blessing Tenko’s ears in the process.

“He looks so badass! Can I use him?” 

“Yes of course! Now we gotta pick three more to build your party.” He smiled, once again going through the character list.

Tenko watched as your eyes scanned through the characters, taking you time to read the descriptions of the 2D being. Naturally, the characters you picked were ones that Tenko enjoyed as well. His eyes scanned over your newly built party; Razor, Zhongli, Fischl, and QiQi.

“Isn’t this fish girl sooo sexy!” 

“Not as sexy as you, doll.” 

“Okay, well then she’s definitely sexier than you.” You rolled your eyes, teasing his ego. 

Teasing Tenko was one of your favorite personal hobbies. You loved watching Tenkos physical and mental state go to mush as you hopelessly teased the living hell out of him, and to your delight, this side of Tenko was beginning to unfold in front of you.

A smirk was placed upon your lips and you soaked in the temper tantrum the grown man was having in front of you. 

You were thrown a series of meaningless insults (if you could even call them that) such as “You're not even that pretty, Fischl is way more appealing.” or “I bet you’d be a shitty character, Fischl could totally beat you” 

Ahhh yes, small meaningless ‘insults’. You continued to watch as the man flustered himself, even more, stuttering as he tried to figure out about comeback to your ‘enraging comment’ 

“Ya done yet?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Love ya too shiggs”

[cheesy09]

Dangerous Attraction

I won’t explain myself. Just a shamelessly self-indulgent one-shot. I had an idea and it needed to be written down. This is by far the spiciest thing I’ve ever written, and I’m really proud with how it turned out :> Hope you guys like it too. Takes place in the Eternal Winter World Timeline, after Clinic Date.

Pairing: Kiro/Helios x Reader Warnings: Suggestive Word Count: 2,087 Genres: Steamy Fluff. With a dash of angst (because Helios T^T)

The black SUV was in plain sight.

I held my breath as I scanned the familiar stygian vehicle, it’s shiny dark metal illuminated by the overhead street lights. If this was here, then he must be too, I thought to myself. I didn’t dare hope though. After all, the car could have belonged to someone else. Anyone else, besides him. But something -- that god-forsaken part of me that pined for his existence -- told me that it was his.

That was why, the moment I saw a flash of silver dart into the alley nearby, I didn’t think twice before chasing after it, my heart pounding fiercely within my chest.

See you again someday. That’s what he’d said back then at the Clinic. I didn’t think those words would come true, could come true. But just the idea of those words being genuine made the blood in my veins boil with excitement.  

It had been days since I had last seen him. Days since I’d last heard his voice, or heard from him at all. The wait; the growing anticipation and anxiousness -- the ambiguity of his situation -- was killing me. An irritating gnawing at my heart. 

It drove me crazy.

Once I was a good distance inside, I stopped to look around.

The alley was empty. Cold and mocking. As if I had been chasing after nothing but an illusion. A figment of my imagination. Maybe I was. My desire to see him must have been so overwhelmingly strong, I was starting to hallucinate. After all, what were the odds that I’d run into him again?

One in a hundred? One in a thousand? I didn’t know. 

I tried not to let the disappointment eat me alive.

Just as I was about to turn and walk back the way I came from, a strong hand latched onto my mouth and pulled me into the darkness. 

“Shh. Keep it down.” A familiar voice. Familiar scent. 

Helios.

My heart raced as my back pressed against his firm chest, like two magnets stuck together. Helios’ gloved hand firmly covered my mouth, his slender fingers muffling my voice when I had almost tried to scream. The dark alley was mostly silent, except for the sound of the two of us breathing, harsh and ragged.

Helios pressed his lips against my ear, his disorderly breaths sending shivers down my spine. “What the hell are you doing here this late at night?” His voice was low and raspy, but for some reason wasn’t as cold as it usually was. 

Controlling the irregularity of my heartbeat, I pried his hand away from my mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you perhaps worried about me?” I asked sarcastically, trying my best to keep the joy I felt from showing up in my voice and failing miserably. I could feel a smile tug at my lips. I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze. Porcelain skin, angular jaw, sharp blue eyes... he was still as gorgeous as the last time I had seen him.

“Hmph. You wish.” He curled his lip, his eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was around, his silver hair shining in the glow of the moonlight. After a few seconds, he released me and I finally turned to come face-to-face with him, already missing the weight of his arms around me. “I don’t have time to waste on you.”

“Why? So you can hang out with your little Black Swan buddies?” I asked, a tiny smirk painting my lips. I knew I was treading on thin ice here. I always was, with Helios. But at this point I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I missed him. So very much.

Helios’ eyes flashed dangerously, as he regarded me with a scowl. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him. “Watch what you say, missy. You’re playing with fire here.”

“Fire? You mean you?” I asked tentatively, slowly, carefully advancing towards him. Every cell in my body screaming, begging to be close to him, as if even this little distance was tearing me up inside. “If that’s the case, then so be it. You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to see you again.”

Shock flashed through his gaze, as if he wasn’t expecting me to say that. But it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, a momentary flash, an instant of emotion. He looked away, but I caught the tinge of red that seemed to form at the tips of his ears. “Fire burns, you know,” he said slowly, guarded, unhurried.

“Then let me burn,” I murmured.

Helios sighed. My heartbeat sped up. 

“Look,” he began, stalking towards me, like a tiger, or an assassin, dangerous enough to make me back up against the wall, and yet captivating enough for me not to want to look away, until he was planting his forearms on either sides of my head. Our chests were brushing, the contact electrifying yet agonizingly sparse. His scorching breath hit my nose, fresh and sweet, and I had to grip the hem of my skirt to control my urge to pull him closer. Wanting his hands on me, his tantalizing lips against my own, my consciousness fighting a battle between patience and desire. “You seem to think that all of this is some sort of joke. It’s like you’re drawn to danger. You can’t just not stay away from it. Just like you can’t stay away from me.”

“If you know that then why do you keep avoiding me?” I asked bitterly. As much as I hated to admit it, it was true. Being with Helios was dangerous. He radiated danger. I had come to terms with that. But at the same time, I couldn’t just leave him. Not now. Not after all this time.

“I have to!” He winced, and made a face like he was pained. As if the conversation itself was physically hurting him in some way. “You have no idea--” he gritted his teeth and stepped a little closer, our foreheads touching, breaths mixing, but not as much as I wanted “--what being close to you does to me.”

I looked up to meet his gaze, the light within those dazzling azure orbs trembling with so many emotions -- persistence, fear, desire -- it made my breath hitch. He’s never been so open. So unguarded. So... vulnerable. It almost made me want to cry. 

Helios leaned down, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore, and brushed our noses together. I stopped breathing, not daring to move, lest I shattered this moment; this precious reality I’d dreamed of for so long. He hovered close, waiting, hesitating. “Please...” he whispered, his nose skimming over my cheek, breath lighting flames over my skin. 

There was a pause. I bit my lip involuntarily, my patience wearing thin. It was taking me everything I had not to lunge at him then and there. 

“Tell me to leave.” His words were measured, restrained, like he was holding something back. 

Probably himself.

Fire spread throughout my chest. The thought of Helios wanting me made the blood pump loud in my ears. My fingers moved, aching with a need to touch, to feel. I traced the skin through the rips in his tank top, circled my arms around his slim waist and dragged his body against mine, unable to bear the separation any longer.

“Never.”

Helios groaned. A sound that did nothing except spur me on even more. Static electricity filled the air and I shuddered when I felt one of his legs slip between my thighs, his chest pressing further against me. He gently nibbled on my earlobe, running his fingers along the side of my face and I all but melted into his touch. 

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” Helios chuckled darkly into my ear, his tone sounding almost nervous. “I-I... don’t want to hurt you. Not you. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

I looked into those smoky blue eyes, the sheer amount of passion, the almost violent storm of love he was holding back. I knew it, felt it, shared it, a long time ago, when he was mine and mine alone, before the darkness took him away from me.

And now, I finally found him, and I didn’t plan on letting him go again.

“The only thing that can hurt me,” I sighed, my eyes lidding at the way Helios’ tantalizing fingers were lazily rubbing circles onto my waist. “...Is being apart from you. I want you too much to bear that.”

Before I knew it, the words were out of my mouth and Helios’ movements suddenly froze.

All at once, he was in front of me, his face pressing up against mine, our lips only a centimeter apart. “You want me?” He asked, breathless, wanting. His eyes were shimmering with hope and a hint of disbelief.

I nodded uncontrollably. “I do. So much, it hurts.”

Helios closed the gap then, his sweet, soft lips on mine and nothing else mattered. All the surrounding sounds and scenery fell away as my senses zeroed in on his existence. Fireworks exploded in my head and electricity coursed through my blood. All the yearning and regret that had built up over the course of the previous torturous months unleashed a force inside me. I kissed back, almost violently, my teeth grazing his lips, fingernails digging into his back, my body arching into him, desperate for more...

Helios didn’t stop, mouth relentless against my own, hands gently yet firmly gripping my hips. He picked me up and I complied, instinctively wrapping my legs around his torso. He pressed us further into the wall, enclosing us in this tight dark corner, our lips never once parting; much too lost in each other to bother to breathe. I licked the seam of his lips, begging for entrance and Helios moaned into my mouth, his tongue eagerly meeting mine in a heated dance.

How long had I waited for this? This moment where he once again held me like I was the most fragile treasure in the world, and yet kissed me like the world was ending tomorrow. No matter how many different identities he had, his heart -- so beautiful and pure -- was something that would never ever change. And I...

I will never let you go.

...Kiro.

Maybe Helios sensed the thoughts that ran through my heart, and parted from my lips, giving us a few seconds to breathe. But before long, he was back again, pinning my hands against the wall, our fingers strongly entwining together. His mouth was back on mine, slower this time, deeper, more passionate. 

Like he was trying to engrave his existence into me.

My mind flash backed to the past. Feverish nights of being tangled in each other’s limbs, my hands in soft golden locks, dark ocean eyes threatening to swallow me whole as the movement of his digits elicited sweet moans out of me... and suddenly, I couldn’t have enough of him. 

Heat pooled at my core and I moaned, wrapping my legs tighter around him, desperate for some friction. Helios probably realized what I wanted and ripped his mouth away from mine, panting, his gaze stormy and intense... hungry. And I had no doubt that I looked the same.

“Is there... something you want?” His voice was low, dark, guttural, with some unspoken feelings, making my stomach flip. His fingers were teasing, sensual, trailing lightly over the bare skin of my thighs, slipping under the hem of my skirt... I bit my lip again, impatient. 

Why is he always like this?

“Remember what you told me back at the clinic?” I breathed, running my fingers through his silky silver strands. His lips tugged up slightly at the memory. “You said that I could have my way with you. Does that offer still stand?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he declared, mischievously, a playful light dancing in his eyes. Before I could protest, he picked me up again, without breaking our contact, and took me to the parked SUV close by. He opened the back door, tossed me inside and then quickly climbed in after me, locking the door behind him.

The next thing I knew, he was on me again, his gloves discarded, hands impatiently tugging up my shirt, blazing tongue effectively latching onto mine, and he growled.

“Right now, it’s my turn to have my way with you.”

  ───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you for reading! If you’re interested in more of my works, you can check them out in my masterlist.

[lixie-lovie]

{ Rogue princess | skz }

l.felix x f!reader

Genre: ??? fluff, angst ig, royalty au, princess!reader, star child!felix, idk u tell me

Warnings: a bit angsty, bad relationships at the beginning, issues with parents, vague mention of past death, mention of animals, mentions of running away

((If anything needs to be added to warnings, lmk! I’ll fix it asap))

Word Count: 5.2k

Note: did I write this literally to comfort myself today? Yes. Have fun reading this reallllyyy self indulgent fic lolz. Hope anyone reading this has a good day! Ily

——————

A throne made of gold and satin-like velvet, all tyrian purple. Too large this seat felt, as did the hall full of people standing under gilded light filtering through the large stained glass window. Here you sat, next to your father in an even more ornate throne, in front of a crowd of people who knew your name, your face, but nothing of your soul.

They couldn’t name that green was your favorite color because of the trees you would catch glimpses of through the windows of your tutors room, ever strong through the seasons never having to carry the weight of a kingdom. They would never be able to name why ships made you weary and claustrophobic or that your favorite flowers of springtime are those that bloom away from the castles gardens when eyes aren’t watching. They couldn’t guess your favorite piece of music, the one you never heard at those god forsaken balls. They never could place that instead your favorite would be the one that came ever so gracefully from under your mother’s fingertips at the piano that used to spark so much joy in the hearts of the people, but now sat lonely collecting dust. They didn’t know you longed to reach the stars someday, yearning for their delicate freedom in the inky black sky. They couldn’t tell that you wondered if they felt out of place too.

More so than anything else, they could never guess how much you hated staring at the men kneeling before you now, begging for a wife, a servant to their needs of pleasure, for the sake of “peace.” They would never know the disgust that sent a shiver down your spine at the twisted grin of these men that took your fingers in their too rough grasp and kissed that back of your hand, their sin tainted lips lingering moments too long. Their hands twitching at their sides with their sickening thoughts as they watched you stand from your throne, adjusting the circlet of silver adorning your perfectly crafted hair.

Your father, your king, grinned widely at the propositions made my these men, happy at the prospect of one of them taking your hand, winning your heart. Happy at the prospect of selling you away. A fair trade he’d call it. A duty.

He’d never understand, you came to realize. He was the man who had chosen your mother, the same way these creatures of lust in front of you are now. Readily ridding the world of her happiness and songs, harshly forcing her into a life of servitude, solitude, for the sake of duty.

“None of them would get it”

You’d say to yourself silently as you excused yourself to the washroom, wiping your disgraced palm clean of the suitors that you had been dancing with’s sweat, your nose scrunched in disgust. In the washroom you would stand, hands now pressed to the too warm mirror in that stuffy room, staring at your reflection. Your reflection stared back at you tauntingly, the flushed cheeks and too perfect hair, until your eyes got caught on the thin band gracing your head. The piece of metal that used to be the only thing tying you to your mother’s lineage, now was only an unwelcome reminder of your duties lined up in the other room, waiting for your hand in marriage. You sighed harshly, ripping the despicable band of silver off of your head, ruining the perfect waves your hair was lying in before. You laughed too hard, running your hands harshly over the layers of paint adorning your face. Your breaths became ragged as you tore the cloth sigil from the bodice of your dress, the only thing left showing your status in this deplorable kingdom and soon you realized, the only thing holding you back.

You stared at your own reflection, a haggard appearance of a forgotten princess staring back at you, and you smiled. Quickly, you rushed to the door, checking for footsteps, before finding your way to the nearest maids chambers. Stepping inside you grabbed a few essentials and a cloak as black as the night’s sky. Once you felt satisfied in what you had taken, you steeled your nerves before quickly and cautiously making your way to the stables, now abandoned with everyone attending the event.

Your eyes scanned the area quickly before settling on a horse with hair as white as snow and eyes the color of indigo. Your form slowed, your breaths coming out in soft pants as you made your way towards the creature in awe of its beauty. You reached your hand out slowly, to gain the trust of the majestic beauty. Suddenly and strikingly you heard a voice sounding from behind you.

“My lady! Where do you think you’re going?” A rough, calloused hand gripped your shoulder tightly, startling you. You turned around quickly, your arms raising defensively. As the offending party grabbed your wrists to gain your attention your excitement died down and your breaths came out easier when you took in the features of Changbin, your personal first knight assigned to you. Your expression became one of relief as you took in the worried, curious look resting on his angular features in the low light of the stables.

“I’m leaving, Changbin. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I can’t go through with this. Please don’t try to stop me..” You said gripping his hands in yours, staring into his eyes hoping to portray the feelings pooling in the base of your throat, causing your words to come out choked. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t change your mind if I wanted to, princess. Here, take this.” He said, smiling softly. A gentle sigh left his lips as one hand reached into one of the many holsters on his person, while the other drifted to comfortingly rest on the crown of your head. His large, rough hands pressed a small holstered knife into your palm. “It’s a blade your mother used to use. I was supposed to give it to you tonight at the ball, but this felt like the right time.”

For the first time that night you smiled genuinely, staring into his eyes softly in thanks while turning to prepare the horse for your disappearance. Changbin’s hands found your waist, hoisting you up and onto the back of the horse before he quietly led you out of the stables, checking for prying eyes and quietly uttering you a safe trip. You made simple promises to return safely to him, unsure of how much truth they held, but sure of the comfort filling your chest with the smile gracing his face.

With that, you turned your head to the dark forest ahead and took a deep breath to steady yourself before going on this possibly dangerous adventure. Then, like lightning striking your nervous system, you heard a voice you had hoped to never hear again.

“Y/n!” Your father’s voice rang out over the courtyard causing you to gasp and whip your head in the direction of the sound. Changbin’s worried eyes stayed trained on your face as your indecision bubbled in your chest at your father’s commanding tone. Quickly muttering some words Changbin sent the horse off running in the direction of the forest, your confused mind allowing the actions to happen wordlessly as you watched Changbin draw his sword against his own king to protect you and allow you the freedom you had longed for. 

---------

It had been moments, maybe hours, you were unsure. The sky bared no stars as you stared hopelessly heaven bound with your eyes blurred. The chilly air hurt your cheeks now dry from the rivers of tears at your actions. Your steed came to a slow, wearily looking around the dangerous wood. All that was to be heard around you were the low grumbles of the predators and the soft snapping of twigs. In the haze of your misery you were lost and cold, unsure of even your own safety as you whipped your head uneasily in every direction of unknown noises. 

It was then that a loud howl sounded from somewhere nearby, a chorus of others following suit. You tried catching sight of the beasts making the horrid sound, but soon it seemed as though the guttural growls were surrounding you, closing in on their next meal. You yelped loudly as the horse became unsteady and afraid, dashing off towards the nearest escape. From your lips feeble shrieks of protest left, but to no avail. The creature’s of the hunt followed suit, a game of cat and mouse. Suddenly, one creature, the largest, leaped out from beyond a too dark clearing in front of your path, baring its fangs and lashing out with its dastardly claws. The horse came to an unsteady halt, rearing back and knocking your frail form harshly to the ground. You inhaled sharply, rolling away, your limbs tucked inward, as fast as possible from the now trampling hooves and paws. You held your breath, covering yourself with your arms and you cried. Tears poured down your face as you waited for the steps of the animals to recede. You heard their noises of primal instinct and found yourself counting the minutes down until they were long gone and satisfied with their hunt. 

When your arms went numb and the tip of your nose was sufficiently frozen, you turned over in the dirt, wet with dew, to stare at the empty sky. Your tears came until they could no longer, your breaths uneven with bitter air exhaling harshly from your lungs, and as your eyes stayed trained upwards, you allowed yourself one prayer to any god that would listen. 

Please. Just let me see one star. One being from above that would understand. 

Abruptly you were taken aback by an unusually chilling wind blowing through the branches of the tall oak trees, causing you to wrap your arms tightly against your grimy, shivering self. Slowly you allowed the exhaustion of the night to take over your features, your eyes closing allowing sleep to take over your dirt ridden form. Finally, you felt some semblance of peace come over you as you drifted off, a prayer still sitting heavy on your pale, chapped lips. 

“You’re one weird human.” Your ears suddenly perked as a deep voice suddenly sounded from somewhere nearby. You screamed, scurrying to cover yourself with some kind of protection. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area frantically searching for the source of the voice. 

“W-who’s there?” You said with as little confidence as you could muster. You cursed your voice for shaking silently as you continued your frantic search for this possible danger. Your eyes landed on a large branch nearby and your legs moved on their own accord, sliding you harshly against the hard, cold ground to scramble to grip the branch tightly, turning and holding it out in a manner you could only hoped looked more threatening than it felt. 

“So silly..” The deep voice chuckled out from somewhere behind you. You yelped, waving the stick in the opposite direction, hoping not to lose your footing against any loose rocks or sturdy tree roots. Your dress was torn and soaked and the gentle breeze now moving in random intervals was jarring and dancing around your cloaked form, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A sudden snapping sound from a branch above your head caused you to scream, throwing the large branch with all of your feeble might towards the offending sound. A larger breeze blew by, obscuring your vision with your own hair and you scrambled to remove it from your vision. As your finally were able to get a glimpse of a male slinking towards you another breeze blew harshly by causing your to sigh sharply, your hands flying back up to your face to remove the hair blocking your vision yet again. “Your gonna hurt someone throwing those things.” The voice sounded again, humor twinkling off of his lips with smooth curls of laughter. 

“Who are you? What do you want with me??” You said, your feet backpedaling as you finally removed your hair from your face again to take in the sight before you. Your eyes scanned the clearing of trees in the dim light unable to find the man you had been questioning and just as you began to question what was even real, you heard him again, your head whipping in the direction of the sound. 

“I should be asking you that, considering you called for me..” He said, the humor never leaving his tone. You began to feel embarrassed at the thought of this man laughing at your pitiful state. Your cheeks grew red and your ears felt hot as you began wondering why you didn’t feel as in danger as you had earlier that night, deciding to deem it all on how wild the rest of your night had already been. Instead of answering you simply furrowed your brow, scanning and searching with your eyes still trying to find the source of the inquiry. Out of the blue in the still night, yet another breeze blew by roughly, chilling you to the bone. A branch suddenly creaked above you and you scrambled back to get a view of what could be perched there.

“Looking for me?” What you found, illuminated by the dim white moonlight, was a boy, seemingly about your age, swinging his legs softly to the gentle sway of the winds. His hair was strikingly white, pure as snow. His pale skin shone softly as if covered gingerly in new born stars. His eyes held mirth, much like his cheshire smile, and his whole body was lax with amusement as he stared down at you. In shock you stumbled backwards, falling over yourself and landing harshly on the ground, yet again tonight staring up at the sky. You felt the wind tousle your hair, but you didn’t seem to have the energy to care much as your mind grappled with its own questioning thoughts. 

“Uhm..lady? Are..haha..are you okay?” His question, broken with impish laughter, felt comforting in a way as he leaned over your form, searching your face with curious eyes and a interrogative furrowed brow. You turned your head softly, staring into the now shocked eyes of the boy with the angular features and moon like eyes before suddenly your lips twitched, the corners of them quirking before a laugh began to bubble out of your chest. The laugh itself with incredulous and loud, joyous like a little kid finally discovering how something works. The boy looked back at you, tilting his head like a confused puppy as he watched you sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows. He didn’t make a move to back up or give you any space, instead leaning closer to examine you further. 

“Did you hit your head or something, funny lady?” He said, his deep voice and boy-like expression of wonder and frustrating confusion only spurring your laughter on further as you grappled for breath. The events of tonight were catching up with your exhausted state and you found yourself wondering if this boy who shone so brightly on this gloomy night was even real. 

Once you could finally catch your breath you sat upright and really took in the sight of him. He may have seemed young on the outside, but somehow he held a powerful aura, like he knew more then he let on. His smile was dazzling as he stared up at you with eyes that twinkled with a silent knowledge. You felt as though he was looking past your filthy outward appearance, and instead he was reading through your soul, listening silently to the story you couldn’t find the words to tell. 

He stood suddenly, as if he found the answer to the question that had been dancing around like the winds, curling through each of your minds. His smile became softer and more genuine as he looked down at your still seated self and slowly outstretched his hand. It was a gesture you were unfamiliar with. It wasn’t a sudden, demanding grasp of your non-consenting hand. It wasn’t rough and calloused, with a predator-like grin gracing his features, but, instead, as you slid your hand over his palm in a silent proclamation of trust you found yourself reveling in how silky smooth his larger, more slender hand felt wrapping around yours in a protective gesture. He glanced at you, a playful smirk playing on his cherry red lips. 

“Do you trust me?” He said, his deep voice breathy and patient, allowing you whatever amount of time you felt like you needed before you nodded slowly, hesitantly. He tilted his head in a munificent gesture, encouraging you to verbalize your thoughts. You felt the minuscule inkling of a curl to your lips forming, your eyes catching on how he seemed to be emitting light in this dim forest. The wind blew softly, ruffling your hair and caressing your now heated cheeks. He watched your features carefully as you bowed your head and giggled to yourself at the sensation of the winds dancing around the both of you. The chilly night felt warm as you turned your head slowly and methodically towards him again, your eyes glistening with an unreadable emotion and you breathed in deeply in a more relaxed manner. 

“I do.” You said, beaming up at him now, your small, frail hand squeezing his a little tighter. He smiled fully now and to you it felt like sunshine. He watched your face, entranced in your beauty taking not of how grateful he was to have answered your call tonight, vowing to bring that smile back whenever he could. Your expression grew concerned as the look in his eye changed and he suddenly pulled you towards him, wrapping one arm around your shoulders before taking off in a sprint. 

You tried to match his pace with a yelp, the wind now pushing you around forcefully. Your cries of protest were drowned out with his hysterical giggling. He forced you forward for a few more minutes as you began to question his strange motives before suddenly he came to a stop. His landing was much more graceful then your sudden stumbling forward, but as you gained your footing your objections died in your throat as you took in the sights around you. The forest behind you now, you stood in a clearing with grasses tickling your ankles, but the most impressive thing about this sight was the flowers. In full bloom, covering the surrounding area as far as your eyes could see were twinkling white flowers. Some stayed small and subdued, while others were larger, demanding more attention, but all of them shown with outstanding luminescence. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood completely rigid, taking in the sight. 

You then felt a soft breeze, pulling your out of your shock with a shiver before you felt an unexpected heat radiating from behind you. You felt a soft hand trace your jaw from somewhere behind as you held your breath expectantly. His hand moved from your jaw to trace the outline of your neck, gathering your hair lying there and tying it tenderly away from your face. Your sudden inhale as his fingers tickled the nape of your neck caused him to chuckle, his close proximity allowing you to feel his warm breath fanning over your shoulders. You suddenly felt balmy as he leaned his face closer, his breaths coming out in an intoxicating manner, dancing around the area where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“Look up.” He said, his voice coming out in a heady whisper. You gasped as you complied, your head whipping up too quickly, causing the male to snicker behind you. You couldn’t seem to care as you took in the sight before you. The once empty sky was now covered in brilliant gleaming stars, all feeling as though they were staring right at the two of you, encouragingly. You weren’t sure what they were encouraging, but just the silly thought itself had you laughing softly, your eyes slowly trailing over everything in front of you yet again. If it weren’t for the questioning hum the man had released you may not have even noticed the sturdy arms wrapped loosely around your waist or the cool skin of his cheek now resting on your exposed shoulder. You may not have even taken note of the breath now fanning comfortingly over your own blushing cheek of the look in his eyes as you turned slightly in his arms to get a better view of this new expression. 

He took in your overwhelmed face as you tried to form words for the thoughts racing through your mind and he laughed, his head tilted back and chuckles racking his toned chest. You took in the movement behind his green tunic, complimenting his pale skin and you blushed again, turning your face away sharply. He gripped your shoulder with one hand softly, making sure not to startle you, while his other hand outstretched softly to point towards the cushiony grass beside of you. You took the hint and made a move to sit and take in the view before you.

He giggled as he helped move the layers of your dress away so you could sit comfortably before taking his seat beside you. You found yourself becoming encumbered with exhaustion and slowly with the gentle breeze swaying the twinkling lights, you let your head pull to the side to rest easily on his shoulder. He moved slowly as to not jostle you allowing more comfort for your tired form.

“You know, lady. I never caught your name..” He said, a hint of gentle humor lacing his deep baritone.

“I’m sorry..” You hummed out, “I’m y/n. Supposed princess of this kingdom.” You said, your tone sounding harsh even to your own ears. “I’m not sure I’d like to even ask who you are.” You said, laughing to help lighten the mood.

“Hmm.. I don’t think I was ever given a name where I am from.” Your brow furrowed at his response as you moved your head from its resting perch to look up at his questioningly. He laughed again, his body folding as he chuckled at your expression. “A story for another time, y/n.” You accepted his response begrudgingly, distracted by the way your name sounded on his lips.

“So what are you going to do when morning comes, little one?” He said, no malice in his tone. You sighed harshly flopping backwards to lay in the soft grass fully, surrounding yourself in the perfumed scent of the fluttering flowers. He took that as an answer in itself as he watched you, amused.

“You need to go back.” You groaned loudly as these words left his lips and he laughed as he shushed you, pushing you softly causing you to dramatically roll over laying your head on his thigh, a noise of protest leaving your bemused lips. “Let me finish would you!” He continued, annoyance playfully covering the syllables while he ran his fingers gently through your messy hair. You smiled, appeased for a moment while staring longingly towards the stars above. The sky was lightening and you felt your smile slipping at the realization that they would be gone again soon.

He frowned watching your face grow frantic with concern before softly resting his cools fingertips on the bottom of your chin, non-forcefully turning your face in his lap to look at his own passionate expression. He tilted his head to match the angle of your, his silliness making you giggle softly before continuing.

“You may have to go back, but you can always come back here, it’s all for you.” He let his eyes slowly trail over you, landing on your hand twisting anxiously tearing up small strands of the grass without realizing. He slid one of his hands comfortingly down your arm, trailing his fingertips lightly over the back of your hands. It felt as if getting a sunburn, getting too close to the beauty of something terrifying. “Look to the stars, I’ll always be there, watching and waiting.” He finished, his voice getting deeper with each second he stared at your animated expression staring up at him expectantly.

You felt your eyes welling up with tears at the peace being here brought to you, knowing it would be ending soon. You tried forming words, prayers, but your lips were too wobbly and my voice was too weak.

“When will I see you again? Wh-what should I even call you??” You finally managed to squeak out, the thick, hot tears you felt curling down your cheeks didn’t sting nearly as much as the thought of leaving him here, only to return to the torturous duties lined up for you at your home. He smiled sadly at you, blurring your senses with how ethereal he looked. His hands twitched against your wrist as he continued his comforting path, avoiding your eyes as he furrowed his brow in thought. Without thinking, out of desperation for an answer, you swiftly intertwined your own fingers with his, your palms slotting together as if fitting missing puzzle pieces together.

“You’ll see me when you need me.. but I’ll always be there.” You pursed your lips in a pout and he smiled again, taking his hand once tangled in your hair and running it slowly, methodically over your furrowed brow, smoothing the skin there and allowing your features to find solace again. “and why don’t you give me a name that you like, y/n.” He offered, his voice softer than you had heard it before, no amusement, only timid hope.

A name. Something so uniquely human. Something lovingly crafted for an individual. Something that holds meaning and myth. Something totally your own. You frowned in thought for a moment and he watched as your eyes glazed over patiently. Suddenly, you sat up rigidly, turning to face him, leaning closer then you had ever been previously. The sudden movement startled him, causing him to laugh awkwardly, his eyes blown wide while staring at your expectant and excited face.

“I’ve got it! I’m going to call you Felix!” You exclaimed. He furrowed his brow, tilting his head and repeating the syllables slowly, testing the way they tasted on his lips. Then he smiled at you teasingly, taking your breath away briefly. You rushed to find some way to explain yourself before the heat fighting it’s way up your neck found your cheeks. You stared into his eyes determined before explaining. “It means happiness. I found happiness tonight, here with you, when I couldn’t back there. They may not ever make me happy, but I have you. My happiness. My Felix.” You finished, grinning widely, appeased.

His grin couldn’t be contained as he laughed softly at how cute you could be. As he let his grin take over his features he let his eyes drift over your close proximity. His fingers began to unfold from between yours, drifting their way up your wrist, feeling your rushing heart beat. They slowly danced over your shoulder making you shiver slightly, as he noticed his teeth took purchase in his bottom lip, the movement catching your eye. His fingertips barely tickled the skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to break out over your skin. Once his hand pushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear you could hear your own breathing, practically panting at his gentle actions. The longing in your eyes causing his eyes to become hooded with a guarded emotion.

Slowly, his hand found its place on your cheek, his cool palm was in great contrast to your too warm skin. You reveled in the feeling, yearning to remember the way this solace felt in this moment. He smiled softly, a flash of teeth all you could see before he was leaning in tenderly. He allowed you to make the moves on your own as well, only continuing forward when you would and only you were both nearly touching, so close you were breathing the same air, he allowed himself a glance at your pink lips. His tongue darted out to wet his own lips before he pulled back slightly a serious expression on his face.

“Can I?” His voice came out breathy, heavy with something you couldn’t name. You smiled softly, pleased with his ability to ask, always thinking of your feelings first. You couldn’t even resist long enough to answer before you were wrapping some of your fingers around his larger wrist, tangling the others in his too pretty hair, pulling his face towards yours and connecting your lips together passionately.

This kiss was unlike anything you had ever heard of, instead of sparks and passion it was butterflies and subtle hints of laughter you could feel bubbling in your chest. The kiss was lingering and slightly bittersweet. You could taste the saltiness on your lips from your tears mixing with the sweetness of his lips on yours. It was perfectly melancholy and grossly beautiful. Tragedy in the form of serendipity.

As you parted Felix’s hands soothed your cheeks and wiped your tears, a smile playing jokingly on his lips. He poked your nose and leaned forward to kiss your forehead lovingly. You smiled through the onslaught of tears and gasped at the dawning sky above you now. Your eyes frantically searched for stars you knew you wouldn’t be able to see anymore, until they fell on Felix’s sad expression. He tried to smile softly for your sake as he stroked your cheek gently.

He then removed himself from you, before standing and helping you up as well. Once you were both standing, staring at each other with eyes full of unspoken words he breathed in deeply before leaning in to plant another swift, stolen kiss on your lips. You smiled as he pulled away, staring at the way his handsome features curled in amusement at your shocked form. He then, without your noticing, had moved his hand to the back of your head and with a soft mutter of words he knew you wouldn’t understand, you were suddenly unconscious in his arms. He lifted you, bridal style, and began walking back towards the forest where you had first met.

——

Once you all were back to the castle, a gentle breeze swaying the curtains, he laid you tenderly on your bed, smoothing your hair out around you and covering you with your own cushion-like blankets.

“Forgive me, princess. I usually would have asked.” He laughed quietly as you stirred in your sleep, as stubborn as you would have been awake. “I won’t be here when you awaken, but I’ll be back for you. You never have to be alone.” He slowly leaned forward, delicately placing a feathery light kiss on your lips. He made his way back to the window, tiptoeing as to not wake you, before turning to get one final glance at you.

“I’ll stay for you, y/n. Always.” He said, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips as a singular tear, the color of moonlight fell from his eye before all that was left in the room was a lonely princess and a gentle, light air dancing through the window like laughter and stolen kisses on a night only two will remember.

——————

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard (Steve) Chapter Two

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this adaptation of Wildcard for all my Steve readers. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

Summary: Steve Rodgers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve. 

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson

Warnings: Mentions of blood/violence, Scars, Bed sharing

Words: 1.5k

Link to put yourself on the taglist

The elevator ride was silent on the way back to your floor. You were just so angry with yourself, you had no stamina when it came to your powers, even after training all day with Natasha and Tony. God forbid you joined in on missions, you would be killed on sight. You sighed loudly, your head was pounding. You checked your watch and realized it was past dinner time, fantastic. You couldn't wait to skip eating and go straight to bed. The elevator reached it destination and the doors slide open to reveal the floor you lived on to be completely dark and empty. You heard shuffling down the hallways and you had the urge to call out to Steve or Bucky. You remained silent and started to quietly make your way down the hallway. You heard shuffling and then felt a presence behind you. Before you knew what was happening, you had spun around to a looming figure over you and saw a glint of light in one of their hands. Knife.

 It all happened so fast you barely registered that your body swung into action. You grabbed the assailant's arm and twisted the knife out of their hand before jumping up and wrapping your thighs around their neck. The man struggled clutching at your thighs, he slammed his back against the wall in an attempt to break your grip. Your head was pounding and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You used all the momentum you had to swing your body downwards with the man wrapped in between your legs to slam him into the ground. The assailant was unphased and finally managed to rip you off of his back and neck. You fell to the ground but scrambled to get up as quickly as possible. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the outline of the man as he stalked around you. You turned and sprinted down the hallway into the living area and kitchen and heard the man follow close behind. You ran full speed at one of the support beams and kicked off of it to throw yourself at him. The man grabbed your throat out of mid air and threw you to the ground, knocking the air from your lungs. You were being held by your throat against the cold tile, you struggled with the man as he brought the knife to your throat. Clawing at his hand to try and release yourself, your vision started to fade to black. You haven't registered the elevator ding in the distance, or the heavy footsteps of someone running to you. The man above you disappeared as he was thrown off of you, you rolled over onto your side and sucked in a deep breath of fiery air. Your eyes had disappeared into flames that lit up the scene in front of you. Steve skillfully dodged every one of the assailants' advances on him, he drew back his arm and punched the man so hard he slammed into the wall behind him. You pushed yourself up off of the kitchen floor and walked to stand over the unconscious man. The generator kicked back on, making the lights flicker back to life. You let your eyes extinguish as you looked up at Steve, meeting his angry eyes that dissolved into concern as he took in your bruised figure. You sighed loudly and braced your hands against the island in the middle of the kitchen, you looked down over your appearance. Your old sweatshirt was torn down the right side exposing your burn scars from when you were captured. You heard more footsteps from down the hallway and you turned to meet Tony, Natasha, and Bucky, all three of them ran in ready to fight. 

Bucky looked down at the man on the ground and then back at you, “What the hell happened here?” 

You huffed out a laugh and threw your hands up, “Someone tried to murder me, you know casual life of an Avenger.” You walked over to the man on the floor and checked the pockets of his clothes, pulling out an identification card to a russian facility, HYDRA. You sucked in a breath and turned the card to show Steve, his eyes widened as you threw the card towards Bucky. You sighed and walked past them, “I’m going to bed.” You ignored the faint replies of your teammates as you walked towards your own bedroom. The door slid open and you took one step into your room before freezing. Your eyes scanned over your room, once neat and tidy, now looked as if a bomb had gone off. Your clothes scattered across the bed and floor, the sheets were ripped off of the mattress, files were scattered across your desk and floor. You backed out of the room silently and made your way down the hallway, and walked into the next bedroom. You entered the room, the smell of leather welcoming you. You opened the chest of drawers and pulled out an old grey tee shirt. You ripped the torn sweatshirt over your head and threw it to the side. You threw your sports bra aside and pulled the tee shirt over your head. You stepped out of the leggings and placed them in the hamper. You sat down in front of the desk, tracing the various marks of charcoal and paint. You reached out for the sketchbook, admiring the sketches of the city's skyline. You turned the page and stopped, your fingers grazing across the picture before you. It was a rough sketch of you sitting against the window in the living area, looking out into the street. You closed the book and sat back in the chair, tracing the initials S.R. on the front of the book. You stood from the chair and walked over to the large bed, burying yourself in the heavy comforter. You remained silent as you heard the door slide open and footsteps approach the bed. Steve peered over the mountain of blankets you were in and smiled slightly at you. 

“Hey, kid. How are you feeling?” He pulled the blankets back to reveal your body as he started scanning you for injuries. His eyes fell on the deep purple bruise around your neck that was slowly fading as your body healed itself. You were sure your shoulder blades were bruised from being thrown against the wall and floor, but you ignored the discomfort. You grabbed for the covers remaining silent as you pulled them back up. Steve ran one hand through his blonde hair before continuing, “The man who broke in was a Hydra operative, he is in our custody and will be interrogated tomorrow. My guess is he was sent to find you or Buck, by the looks of your room, I think it's you.” You watched him pace as he spoke, you could tell he was nervous.

You never had to ask Steve to stay in his room anymore. Sometimes you would just come in, without saying a word and he knew you needed him. You hated to admit you were attached to Steve, he was the reason you haven't spun out of control. You watched Steve quietly as he undressed, getting ready for bed. You turned on your side towards the side of the bed Steve slept on. He circled the bed, “Friday, lights off please.” 

“Goodnight, Captain.” The voice replied

The lights flicked off and Steve slid into bed, facing you. “Talk to me, I can’t read your mind in the dark.” The comment made you give out a sharp exhale that functioned as a laugh, Steve always seemed to know what you were thinking when he looked into your eyes. You had some sort of unspoken way of communication between the both of you. 

You looked at Steve in the dark, “What if they are trying to take me back?” You voiced your fears out loud to the soldier, nothing really scared you anymore except the thought of being taken back to that god forsaken place. 

Steve watched your outline in the dark, looking for the right words to say. He wanted to help you, tell you he would never let another soul lay another finger on you but he couldn't promise that. He reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I will do everything in my power to protect you.” You nodded at him silently and turned onto your back, “Please try and get some sleep, kid.” 

You felt Steve shit over to you, he had flipped over on his stomach and moved close enough to where your sides were touching. He did this always for you, so you would feel grounded. You closed your eyes and tried to time your breathing with the soldier, counting each one. 

Forever tags:

@pumpkenz

Wildcard Tags:

@lhiamelona-blog @buckyyyybaby

[vesperstalksclones]

Ok so @captainrexisboo was talking to people about Rex and cinnamon flavored mouth wash, which made this amazeballs art happen by @samrubio and that got me thinking about clones and tasty flavors.... and I'm a dirty hoe... and this fell out of my Brain:

Peppermint Playtime

(or something like that)

*I'm sorry, I cannot for the life of me figure out how to do a "read more" line with my phone. Please forgive me.

*Kix x gender neutral reader

*Filth filth filth, Kix gets his brain sucked out thru his peepee, and things get crazy there is a little finger walking of the dirt trail. Just saying.

Have fun!!

●●●●●●

Kix had excused himself to go search out some food, allowing you the first bit of privacy You'd had in four days.

You'd been dispatched to Torrent squadron after the 501st had discovered a hidden slave camp tucked into the dense jungles of this gods-forsaken planet, the occupants suffering terribly from malnutrition and exposure. Tending wounded troopers as well as suffering civilians was more than he was equipped for, so the chief medical officer had dispatched you and a transport of supplies to fill the need. Kix had arched a brow at the nat-born medical technician he'd been landed with, chuckled at your name, Magik' (left over from university when you could repeat practically all of Magik's Anatomy Atlas verbatim) and within the hour was eye-fucking you from the table where he was irrigating infected wounds. Quite the romantic first meeting.

Truth be told, even the difficulty of a four day grind in the field ward couldn't blind you to how damn beautiful the trooper was. They were all made from the same man… but Kix seemed… more, somehow. His amber eyes seemed to burn with more gold and his hair was an inker ebony… his lips more plush and his lilting baritone voice richer. You might have indulged in a great deal of reciprocal eye fucking.

Now, in the privacy of his little cubby hole, you shed your filthy clothes, adding them to the growing pile and dug out your precious pouch of wipes and a spray bottle of saniwash. Metered showers on the Venator sucked. Wipes sucked far more. But you were sweaty and tired and the massaging of the towel bath was marvelously soothing after the grind. You scrubbed yourself down thoroughly, sighing at the cool air kissing at your skin as you ran your palms over your chest and belly to whisk away any remaining moisture. Stooping, you retrieved the used cloths and straightened, your eyes locking with the wide eyed stare of the medic who had appeared out of nowhere and was watching you a little slack jawed. 

Your insides jumped, but outwardly you remained cool, tilting your head coyly at him.

"Kix… how long have you been standing there?" 

A look of panic crossed his face and he gritted his teeth, the spell suddenly broken by the sound of your voice. 

"Not… not too long…. I didn't see… I…" he stammered. You couldn't help but adore his bashfulness, even as the two of you had stared across more naked bodies in the past few days than you'd care to count. 

"Oh, stop. Get over here, you need to clean up!" 

He shuffled forward, discarding the food packets he'd brought before drawing himself up in front of you, training his eyes somewhere above your head. 

"I can help… If you want me to."

His eyes snapped down to yours, surprise painting his features… but also maybe… eagerness?

"If that's ok…" You continued, nodding innocently as your lips pursed.

He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small grin.

You tucked your fingers under the hem of his blacks, tugging the shirt up until his navel peeked out.

"Look, Kix… It's been a shitty couple of days and I just… I really want to put my hands on something healthy and … " You shuddered as you pressed your palms against the muscles of his abdomen. "... gorgeous."

He nodded again, the corner of his mouth creeping high into smirk, realizing what you were getting at and immensely enjoying the idea. You pulled the shirt the rest of the way off, and he hiked a booted foot up onto a container, working at loosening the shinguards. Not wanting to waste time you worked at his back, marveling at how the droplets of the wash collected on the rippled bronze muscles and the prickles that rose wherever your nails scraped at him while you scrubbed. He threw up the other boot to be loosened as you kneaded at his shoulders, pulling a groan from the medic's lips. You rubbed the tension away until he straightened and stepped out of the armored boots, now clad only in the black tights. 

Grabbing the wash he hurriedly got to scrubbing his chest, eager to get business finished and move on to other things. Never to be the shy one, you cupped your palms over his hips, pressing yourself against his back, and rolling your hips against his ass, eliciting a small noise of approval. He was getting to work on his face when your fingers dipped down the front of his thighs and came together in the front, molding over the growing bulge in his pants. 

"Oh hell… " he groaned, canting his hips forward to press against your palms. "That's not helping."

"Then hurry up, Sir."

He growled low in his throat, dragging his pants down to hurriedly scrub himself as your fingers played at his abdominals, scratching little trails around his hips and scooping handfuls of his firm rear.

"Fucking Maker, you're beautiful." You whisper harshly, nipping at his shoulder. 

Kix clawed his tights the rest of the way off, with a grunt and spun to face you. His arm slipped around your waist and crushed you against his belly, his other hand fisting in your hair and gripping it snugly. 

" What did you want Magik, that you're so damn eager for?" He jerked your head lightly with the fist. "You think I didn't see you looking at me the last few days?" He brushed his lips against yours, holding you back when you stretched to kiss him. "What were you thinking about?"

Your nails were digging into his arms, the tension that hung over the two of you was nearly palpable. You were both exhausted and strung out and really needed something good and mind blowing to force you into a few hours of blissful slumber. 

"I want your cock… I want you in my mouth. I want your hands in my hair, and I want you to loose your damn mind."

"Fuck yes." He growled, slanting his lips over yours, groaning harshly as he thrust his tongue in your mouth, caressing at yours and exploring your warmth. 

You pushed him away and he let you go, your teeth scraping down his neck as you left. You dropped to your knees, pushing him back against the crates harshly and pressed your lips to his middle, leaving searing kisses and licks as you worked your way towards your prize. You were nuzzling at the crease of his thigh, his hard erection bumping at your cheek when you had a thought. He'd worked so damn hard to save those people… why not make things a bit more special for him. You scrambled to the side and dug in the pocket of your smock. He watched you curiously as you unearthed your tin of peppermints and scooped a bunch on to your tongue. You crunched them quickly, shuddering at the intensity of the mentholated chill they brought. Grabbing one of the cold beverages he brought, you slunk back before him and met his eyes with a naughty look in your own. 

"You worried about your breath?" He asked, confusion plain on his face. 

You shrugged and smiled sweetly. "No… but you should be."

His brows raised as you dipped your head towards his member, curling your tongue along his shaft, smiling at his moan of defeat. 

He ran his fingers through your hair before fisting them firmly, holding you tightly as you set to work. You spread your lips over the head, the velvety softness of the skin dragging against yours. A bead of pre-come had swelled at the tip and you ran your tongue through it, teasing at the tiny opening there as his breath hitched. Wetting your mouth thoroughly you slid him past your lips and on to your tongue, sucking experimentally at the mouthful as Kix shuddered above you. 

Flicking your eyes up to his, you found his mouth agape, his golden eyes locked on your face, the point of contact, memorizing the sight of his cock disappearing into you. 

"Is that good, Ad'ika? Take more…"

You pull away and plant a sloppy kiss to the head, before enveloping him again and pushing forward, taking more of his length with each bob of your head. His hands gripped tighter, pushing you forward firmly and you knew what he was wanting. You swallowed around him, shoving him deeply into your throat until your head spun and your nose brushed his abdomen and your shoulders shook as your body fought to reject his length. Fortunately a calm head and a lazy gag reflex kept things smooth and you slipped away, only to press forward again, swallowing him whole. 

Kix was gasping overhead, watching you have your way with him, satisfying your own craving even as he was the one who would surely benefit more. 

"Fuck… Magik! That feels …" his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. "Stars… that's amazing! It feels… agh!" 

You ran your nails over his hips and thighs as you worked and he arched against you. Rolled his testicles between your fingers as you stroked the heavy sack, giggling at the stutter it put in his hips. You fumbled for the odds and ends you had deposited on the floor, dipping your fingers into a bit of oil You'd snatched from the clinic. 

Pulling away, you coaxed him to sit on the crates, leaned back and relaxed, and hooked a palm behind his knee, propping his leg high. 

He chuckled nervously. "Where is this going, Mag?"

"Trust me, doll. I think you'll like this." 

You sunk back down, taking him in your mouth again, your oily fingers smoothed behind his balls and crept back between the cheeks of his ass. He squirmed under your touch, his breaths occasionally turning into little whimpers as you swallowed him down, the sloppy noises of your spit soaked lips making an obscene symphony in the modest space. He trembled when your fingertips brushed against his entrance, the oil making the touch slick and soft as satin. You timed gentle strokes with the motion of your lips, listening closely to his pants and gasps for any hint that he wasn't enjoying himself. 

Seizing the moment,, you slipped a finger in to him up to the second knuckle. 

"Fucking!... Stars… ah!" He arched up his hands flying to clench the edges of the crate and you felt him tighten around you. 

You pull away from his cock, with a wet noise, gently caressing him. 

"Do you want me to stop, sugar?" 

"N.. n.. no!" He positively whined the word, giving himself over to you willingly.

You kissed his thigh and dove back on his member, fucking him sweetly with your mouth and your hand as he moaned and squirmed under your ministrations.

Maybe he thought he was the one in charge, but the beautiful man was your plaything for the moment and hearing him whimper and cry had your insides twisting, your own muscles clenching around emptiness in anticipation.

"Magik! Kriffing Maker Ad'ika … I need…" the words broke off in a sob as you slid your finger out of him.

"What do you need, Beautiful? Tell me.." You whisper, stroking his weeping cock with your free hand, watching his muscled abs gather so that he could thrust against your fist.

"I need to come… I'm close… please, please Ad'ika!"

You smile at the warmth his words bring, wanting more than anything else to see him fall apart from your touch. You drop your mouth over his head, drawing circles with your tongue as your hand pumps his length, the other dipping into your drinking cup and finding a tiny smooth bit of ice.

If he liked the cool on his cock… well..

You raised your head to watch as your fingers slipped to his ass and pressed the bit of ice inside him.

You heard the creak of the crates as his fingers clamped down, saw his pupils shrink to pinpoints and he exploded against your lips, body bowing into the air as a scream ripped from his chest. The climax rippled through him, setting the great muscles in his thighs quivering as ropes of hot spend splashed across your face and neck.

You'd expected it… just not so much!

Pleasantly pleased with yourself, you sat stroking his thighs as the sensations of release ricocheted around within him, making themselves known with little shudders and breathy gasps. 

It wasn't long before he relaxed and quieted, panting softly in the afterglow of his release and he raised his head, searching you with a dazed expression. 

"Hi there handsome. Welcome back."

"You…. Kriffing… what the hell are you?

He gasped out, looking half pleased and half afraid.

You shrugged.

"A discerning collector of orgasms. And yours, Sir, was superb."

He rolled from the crate with a groan, gaining his feet slowly, before pulling you up with him. Sharing in childish giggles, he apologized as he helped to clean your face, before pulling you down to the sleeping palette with a grin.

"Two can play at this game, Ad'ika."

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt #37 for you, dear: Things you said with the tv on mute 😌📺🤫

Notes: Okay angel, you have an official IOU from me for a one shot that’s total fluff!!! I love you!!!! Thank you to the gorgeous bitch that is Bethany for making this better than it ever could’ve been <3 <3 

A Reblog is worth a thousand Stars

.-

Things you said with the TV was muted  |  Send Me A Prompt

.-

Sirius’s never been much for silence. He was brought up in the heart of London in a household always filled to the brim with guests that his parents deemed worthy enough to intermingle with the ever so illustrious Black name, and then in Hogwarts there was always the chatter of other students or the mysterious sounds ringing from the forbidden forest. Sirius’s always needed that extra layer, that muffled background noise to help ground himself, to help not get lost in his own thoughts of inadequacy or regrets over his vast array of stupid decisions that he’d make in a thoughtless spur of passion. 

If he’s really forced to think about it, the only time Sirius’s ever been comfortable blanketed in quiet was during the few times he spent his school hols in the Welsh countryside. But Sirius tries not to, think about that he means. Because then he’s back in bed, curved against Remus, one of his arms stuck underneath him while the other traced elaborate designs against his sun dappled skin. And it’s hard to reminisce on those sorts of memories, the ones that remind him about burnt toast mornings in their Camden flat and the taste of blackberries on Remus’s lips and the way they had always found solace in folding into one another after a long day out on patrols or raids of a Death Eater hideout. Well, found solace until they had suddenly, abruptly not. Before Remus had begun spending his full moons away, out on covert missions given by Dumbledore and never repeated about to Sirius. Before a thick, uncomfortable tension had clogged between them on the breakfast table that they used to stretch across to interlace their hands with one another’s. Before secrets infested every nook and crevice of their relationship, burrowing through it like deadly, invasive pests— rotting away at the one thing Sirius held with reverence and an aching sort of love that he’s only ever felt towards Remus. 

The night Remus left was only surprising in how long it took their bending to turn to a break that couldn’t stitch back up with heady kisses, and ardent declarations and tender caresses that always were that bit lighter for how afraid they’ve always been to hurt the other. It was early June and it was like every ounce of Sirius was being rinsed of resolve, like the moonlight itself  was bleeding out with the desperation and yearning and pain painted so evidently on each of their faces and what measured their movements when in relation with the other. It was in the midst of an argument, because of course it was— because that had become their only form of communication in those final fleeting weeks in-between the fucking and the cautious glances volleyed around like they were back in sixth year and first beginning to tend this tentative, little flame between them, a flame that became a supernova that swallowed Sirius whole without his permission. Remus had made a crack about Sirius needing to get him a leash if he was so convinced that he wasn’t being forthcoming about his whereabouts, and Sirius had snapped back saying that at this point he wished Remus was actually just sneaking around to shag Dearborn, and then Remus had just slumped over, lying against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him up anymore.

He had circles as dark as the velvet night sky beneath his bright eyes, and he had such a rigid sort of posture once finally standing back up that it makes Sirius wince even remembering it, and just looking at him in such a state felt like the deepest betrayal. All Sirius knew, all he’s ever known and all he will know for the rest of his days is that he never wants to be the one to make Remus look that defeated or exhausted or just plain sad ever again. Remus had packed his few belongings in the old luggage he’s had since first year in a matter of minutes, and marched out the door without ever looking back, and Sirius hadn’t seen him until after the dust had finally settled in the wake of the end of the war. Remus is the one thing Sirius has always known he never deserved, and now— six weeks removed from the defeat of Voldemort by the hands of a still recuperating Dumbledore, Sirius knows that truth is as inherent as ever.

It was Lily who stayed up with Sirius on nights he couldn’t go back to bed in fear of being met with Remus in his dreams— her missing him in a different but just as painful way. It was Lily who told Sirius about the borderline sadistic recruitment efforts Dumbledore had Remus operating— making him relive his worst nightmare every full moon with the man who had turned him when he was no more than four years old. And it was Lily who called him and James a pair of “bloody prats,” because she had never doubted Remus for even a moment. So it only made sense when it was Lily who tipped her chin in that imperious way of hers two weeks before, and proclaimed that they’d be having a Christmas together as a family. Which meant that Sirius has just spent the last three— Merlin forsaken—  days awkwardly avoiding Remus in the most stilted and uncomfortable manners every time they ran into one another in the Potter cottage, and it meant that Frank, Alice and Neville took one of the guest rooms, while Sirius readily offered the only other one to Remus, and now he’s slumped downstairs, staring at the strange Muggle box that Lily had bought and what James, Sirius, and— and well the rat, had spent an entire afternoon toying around with— pure blooded to the core. Lily and Remus had only left them to it while going off for tea and scones at the cafe down the way, laughing at them all the while.

God does Sirius wish that golden splendor had never faded.

At the moment, the Muggle box is playing a barrage of clips of an incredibly pretty lady, one with dark hair and violet eyes. She looks like she could be a Black, honestly— it’s disarming. He’s sure he’s seen her before.  Sirius furrows his brows that bit more, surprised just how familiar she actually looks, and is shaken when he hears a soft, rasp of a voice— the most resplendent voice he’s ever heard— speaking from behind him. “Liz Taylor.”

Sirius turns around, frantic, as he takes in the sight of him, up close after so long, and Sirius stares, wide eyed and greedy, like he always is when around Remus. “Pardon?”

“The woman on the telly, that’s Liz Taylor. My mum was positively obsessed with her.” Remus’s arms are crossed leisurely against his chest as he lies against the doorway, clad in a white T-shirt and a pair of fading, plaid pajama bottoms. His bottom lip is worn dry and his hair is disheveled and sticking out on impossible angles, and he’s the most gorgeous thing Sirius has ever seen. Even now, even after so many months apart and even while he’s obviously lost in thought about his miraculous mother who had passed away from a Muggle disease their seventh year, taking a part of Remus’s heart right along with her. Even amidst all of it, Remus Lupin is the most startlingly beautiful thing Sirius has ever witnessed.

Sirius can’t stop his gawking, it’s like a warped image of that night over five months ago now, and it fills Sirius with a sort of dread he’s become far too accustomed with feeling when around Remus. “Oh, right,” Sirius says, more because he feels like it was his turn to say something, even if it is stuttering and dumb.

“You remember Christmas break of seventh year? When she made us watch her favorite film? That starred Liz Taylor.”

Sirius’s throat feels dry, can’t believe that Remus is speaking with him at all, wonders how he’ll actually be able to string two words together in any sort of coherency. “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah. The one about the bloke who wanted to marry her but got that other bird pregnant.”

Remus’s answering grin is small and mild and a bit threadbare, but it’s a Moony smile, so Sirius will devour the vision of it with hungry piety.

“I think the critics might have an issue with your distilling one of the greatest critiques of American capitalism into a tawdry love affair, but that’s the one,” Remus says as he picks up the clicker and mutes the box, perched on the other end of the couch’s armrest. And it’s so far removed, but the closest Remus has been able to stand being around Sirius in too long and it pumps him with a sort of staggering, hesitant hope that he has no right in indulging himself with— to feel the levitating, helium like sense of it pulsing in his chest and coursing through his veins.

“You know me Moons, just wanna get to the dirty bits.” He tries for broke and casts him a half smile, feels it like a punch in the gut when that doesn’t affect the detached way Remus stares at him from his perch. “But the bloke was fit at least— I recall saying that he looked a bit like you.” That, for some mad reason, makes Remus toss back his tawny head— silver in the moonlight— and laugh hysterically. “I’ve finally done it, made you go barmy.” Sirius marvels, goading but also partially meaning it.

“Of course you’d think Monty Cliff looks like me Sirius, he’s only the most tragic git in cinema history.”

“Since when are you the dramatic one Moons?”

Remus stills for a second— probably over the use of the familiar pet name, but he doesn’t say anything of it, just gives him a one armed, what can you do shrug. “’S true, he got in a nasty accident with Liz in the car when they were out drinking one night.”

“Oh— That’s rotten luck.” Sirius says, still feels a bit delirious with the fact that Remus is even speaking to him at all.

“Quite.”

“Did he die?”

“No, not fully. They were able to stitch back up his face, but he never actually recovered, was haunted by it really. I guess folks used to say that there was the beautiful before, and then the monstrous after, scars and all. So he spent the next decade drinking himself to death.”

Sirius’s insides go cold, flashes of Remus’s own habits bubbling to the forefront of his mind, but he sweeps it away and only nods, thinks he understands the shifty way Remus is behaving now, considering the obvious parallel to his own accident as a lad and how the Wizarding world has regarded him ever since.

“That’s shit Remus.”

He hums, noncommittal as he studies a point over Sirius’s shoulder. “They still call it Hollywood’s longest suicide.”

Sirius suddenly feels sick to his stomach, knows that if this was even just half a year ago, he’d be gathering Remus in his arms now and kissing away the lines melting into his face, and telling him in a gargled repetition that he loves him and he loves him and he’s always loved him. He’d tell Remus how damn beautiful he is and how bright and brilliant and remarkable of a person he is. And Sirius would fall asleep with Remus’s head resting on his chest and the blanket pooling around their hips and it would feel splendid just for that slice of eternity.

But this isn’t half a year ago. This is now, and now is composed of them broken up and awkward and left them unable to even hold each others gazes for longer than a few seconds at a time, lest the hurt becomes unbearable.

“He sounds like someone I’d get a pint with If I’m being honest.” 

That miraculously seems like the right thing to have said because Remus smiles softly as he stands up. “Sure you two would’ve had a marvelous time, his boyfriends called’m a miraculous lay.”

Sirius laughs, loud and abrupt and a bit like a bark. “Come off it.”

“Poor Liz, she was mad over the shirt lifter.” Remus pulls a face and sticks his tongue out, cheeky in a way Sirius has missed beyond words. “But never mind the history lesson, I just came down for a glass of water, don’t let me disturb your telly watching.”

“You didn’t!” Sirius says hurriedly, forcing himself not to actually leap up and corner him. “I mean—“ he coughs, tries evening out his heartbeat.  “You’re never a bother Remus, you know that. You know I’d rather talk to you than just about anything else,” the silent, save for fucking you, doesn’t have to be said, but Sirius reckons Remus caught the implication if the slight flush to his ears is anything to go by.

“Right, well I should still get back to bed. Tomorrow’s actual Christmas Eve and Lily’s practically branded the damn schedule onto my hand.” Remus turns to the kitchen, and it’s all too much like before, but Sirius won’t let him— can’t let him— go off and leave him behind. If there is one inarguable truth in Sirius’s life, it’s that he loves Remus John Lupin more than all the stars in all the damned galaxies combined, and losing faith in that has only ever caused him the worst sort of pain. So he doesn’t let him go, flings himself forwards and encircles one of Remus’s bony wrists with a loose hand, can practically hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Wh— Sirius—“

“Are we ever going to be alright again,” Sirius asks outright, probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done but he doesn’t care, is sick of feeling so damn lost and wrong footed and lonesome without him. 

Remus slowly pivots back around, lips set in a firm frown and brows beginning to knit. “What do you mean.”

“Don’t Remus, please, just don’t. If it’s no then please just put me out my misery. I can’t do this sodding in-between shite, this purgatory of nothing and everything. I just can’t.”

The silence that drapes over them seizes with a tension Sirius hadn’t felt since the night Remus had left, and it probably doesn’t bode well, but Sirius doesn’t care, wants an  answer damn it.

Remus only stares at him, measured and noncommittal and with an almost aloofness that Sirius had successfully penetrated by the end of their first term in Hogwarts. It’s really something awful being on the other side once more.  “You thought I was the spy.” He says in a deadpan, void of any warmth, and cleared of even the Welsh lilt to his words that always shone through when he was relaxed, and wasn’t afraid of being cast off as just some country boy.  He sounds methodical, by rote. He sounds like he doesn’t dare allow any emotions to bleed through because he’s afraid what Sirius would do with them, and that realization, above anything else, is what punches him right in the gut.

“I thought everyone was the spy,” he tells him, isn’t above from graveling at this point. “Hell I thought I was the bloody spy for a moment there! Under the imperius curse, or was obliviated or—“

“That’s different Sirius,” Remus interrupts, seething, and tearing his wrist away from Sirius’s light grasp. “Think about why you would presume me to be working for the dark side over Peter!”

Sirius flushes, is getting angry now, hating that Remus wouldn’t even hear him out. “Because you were in the top of the class, and that fucking rat barely knew how to transfigure  a throw pillow to a damn porcupine!”

Remus’s face— a face Sirius knows better than the back of his own hand— twists up in derision, lips curled and nose wrinkled and pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint. It’s completely inappropriate timing, but Sirius wishes he could show Remus just how thoroughly he pays reverence to him and that face. “Well lucky him he was born a pure blood.”

And that, that snide remark is what makes Sirius jolt back, as if he’s been slapped open handed right across the face. Like the one and only time his mother had done so when she caught him and Regulus dressing up in her heels and jewels and lipsticks when he was seven years old. This, this insinuation by Remus is just as striking and probably ten times as painful. “Don’t. Don’t bring blood politics into this Remus. You know I don’t give a buggering fuck about any of that trite.”

“Then what?” Remus almost yells now, face reddening and stepping close enough to Sirius that he has to tilt his head back just so, just enough so that they’re eyes are boring into one another properly once more. “Was it the fact I’m a fucking werewolf? Huh?” He grabs for Sirius’s front, hands knotted in the material of his shirt, and careful not to touch him. It’s a familiar action when Sirius thinks back to the final couple months of their relationship, Remus had always just grabbed onto Sirius’s clothes— wrinkling his jackets and Henleys whenever they kissed goodbye. Sirius had ultimately thought it was because of the guilt eating up inside for his turncoating ways, but now recognizes it for what it was and what it is. He sees that it’s Remus trying to grapple for something, anything. It’s Remus trying to ground himself by touch, and by Sirius, to feel still amidst all the chaos. 

Sirius puts his larger hands against Remus’s wrists once more, doesn’t let him drop his gaze. “Fuck you Remus.”

“Is that it? You got sick of fucking a halfbreed? Figured that if I was just like the lot who actually were enthralled by Grayback that it’d be fine if you could end it.”

“Shut the fuck up!“

“Just say it! Say you didn’t trust me because I’m a werewolf and you believe that propaganda that we’re some sorta inherently dark creatures. Tell me you gave up on me because of that. Just give me an answer Sirius!”

And it’s like Sirius can’t breathe, doesn’t know where to begin his rant. Whether he should shout at Remus for being a self loathing prat, or shout at Remus for thinking so low of him, or maybe shout at Remus for trying to pretend as if he wasn’t the one who gave up on them first. In the end, he does none of that. 

It’s pure instinct when Sirius plunges forwards and crashes his lips against Remus’s own, trying to infuse the love and adoration and acceptance he knows Remus has never allowed himself to truly feel, and is relieved when his lead-like insides lighten just a fraction when Remus opens his mouth and grabs for Sirius’s face, and kisses him that much deeper. His tongue plunging into Sirius’s open mouth and the familiar slide is so achingly welcome Sirius swears he could fall over in gratitude, frantically palms up and down Remus’s lightly muscled back for purchase, and ultimately just gives up and drags him to the sofa, doesn’t let their lips separate for more than a breath at a time.

“I love you, I never stopped loving you Moons,” Sirius tells him as he practically rips Remus’s shirt as he pulls it off and Remus collapses over him, now straddling Sirius’s lap and kissing a path across his jaw. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Remus pulls away, only for a moment, but it’s enough to see the watery gleam to his eyes and the doubt that passes across his face. Though Remus doesn’t let him look for too long, plunges back forwards to kiss him in a cacophony of lips, and teeth, and spit. His cold hands glide against Sirius’s abs beneath his own t-shirt, and Sirius is practically arching up with wanton intent. God he’s missed this, missed Remus and the way they fall against one another, and missed the way they’ve always just fit so innately.

“I—I still love you too Pads,” he says against Sirius’s neck, practically shaking but it’s enough to clear Sirius of all his worries and all his doubt. If there’s anything that couldn’t erode, its the foundation they built with one another and that’s enough, maybe that’s all they need to begin healing once more. Sirius knows that there’s countless conversations and apologies and that they’ll need to take this one step at a time, but here, now. This gives him hope that Remus is just as willing to work on it as he is, and that’s all Sirius needs to know.

He slides a hand up Remus’s thigh and dips a thumb into his waistband, asking for permission, and almost laughing at how eager Remus is to the question, eyes fluttering shut prettily as Sirius slips a hand into his front, cheeks blazing when he realizes Remus wasn’t even wearing any pants. 

“Moony,” he moans, tossing his dark head against the sofa and praying for strength from fucking Merlin himself. 

Remus actually does laugh, kisses the juncture of Sirius’s neck and shoulder before he starts rocking back and forth, against Sirius’s rapidly hardening cock, and Sirius is already so pent up and hungry for this that he knows he’s not going to last long.

“Bloody slag.”

“Pot calling the kettle black—“ Remus’s eyes go blown suddenly, absolutely going mental at the pun and Sirius can’t believe the love of his life is such a damn wanker. 

“Oy, I’ll show you what this kettle can do,” Sirius snaps, playful as he flips their positions so that Remus is lying beneath him, canting forwards when Sirius unceremoniously grabs his cock and begins a slow, and steady stroke, absolutely fucking beaming at the small, cut off gasps and muffled whimpers Remus lets out. They should probably worry over someone walking downstairs for a midnight snack or smoke or something, but Sirius can’t be fucked to care, not with the gloriously golden sight of Remus Lupin flat out beneath him and panting and how Sirius knows precisely how to get him to whimper out in that particularly stunning way.

“Sadistic— Hah— Sadistic bastard,” Remus groans as Sirius begins to thumb at the tip and uses the pre-come to slide faster up and down his shaft, his own hips rocking faster against Remus’s leg to catch at the sensation.

“No arguments here,” Sirius whispers, dipping back down to kiss him as he speeds up the stroking, and gets some of his own friction as he rubs against Remus’s thigh in quick and graceless thrusts and it’s only a moment more before Remus is groaning out with his orgasm and another few thrusts of Sirius’s own hips  after that when Sirius joins him, practically collapsing over his body once he does.

“Oof, get off me you prick.”

“Too tired Moons.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

Remus laughs and Sirius wishes he could be wrapped up in the sound for the next eon to come. For now, he only licks off the come still sticking to his hand, and Remus wrinkles his nose in acute disapproval, but then he kisses him deep and thorough. So Sirius doesn’t take it to heart. 

Eventually they adjust themselves so that they’re each lying on their sides and peering at one another, gentle but with more stability than they’ve felt for nearly a year now. It feels like they’ve come to some sorta equilibrium about where they go from here, and it’s so bloody miraculous. It’s like their lives have finally been unpaused from the war and they have a thousand, glimmering memories waiting to be had. A future painted with a house of their own, and visiting James and Lily and the Sprog every night for supper, and maybe even having one of their own. A future Sirius lost hope in while they were apart but is now suddenly and painfully the brightest spot in Sirius’s world. 

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part IV: Crazy on You

Summary/Author's Note: The mission starts to go off the rails as a certain someone starts to get a taste of greed. Frankie deals with the dark parts of his soul and worries how you'll react to seeing such things. (Thank you so much for your support of me and this fic. Part I became my first fic to reach 300 notes and I cannot believe it was a Frankie fic, but he deserves the love.)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's Sister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k (apparently I cannot shut up about Frankie) Warnings/Ratings: 18+ -- Stone cold murder, blood and gore, greed, language, panic attack, hurt/comfort, stress, a lot of violence--like a LOT, fucking TOM. (<<< This warning came back lmfao)

Part I * Part II * Part III

[MASTERLIST]

Frankie's hand in yours was like an anchor keeping you from giving in to the anxiety bubbling up inside your gut. They should have been wanting to leave the house, not going up another flight of stairs deeper into the mansion. The tension in the back of Frankie's shoulders was palpable and you wanted to reach out and put your hand in the middle of his back. He glanced over his shoulder at you and you tried your best to give him a reassuring smile. 

"What's going on, Tom?" Frankie asked as the two of you cleared the threshold of the office and looked around. 

Lorea's office was larger than any of the bedrooms had been. Expensive black oak bookshelves were on each wall and they matched the leather furniture and dark polished desk. The rain continued to pound against the windows and as a crack of thunder rattled the glass panels, you gripped Frankie's hand tightly. He turned and pulled you against his side as he leaned against one of the side tables. Your shoulders didn't relax however until you felt his nose against your hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"We got nothin," Will hooked his fingers in the front of his vest. "This guy's a ghost."

"What?" Frankie looked around as Benny stormed out of the adjacent room. 

"The fuck!?" He cursed as he tossed two fistfuls of limp duffle bags on the ground. "Nothing but empty bags!"

"And Lorea? Pope?" Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at your brother like a disappointed father. Everyone seemed to take a moment and look at Pope as he stared blankly at the empty bags on the ground at his feet.

"He's gone. With the money." Will shrugged.

"Your girl gave us up, Pope." Frankie said as he raised his head from your hair and looked at his friend. "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

Pope took his hat off and squeezed the bill between his hands as he looked around worriedly. "No, no, no," he shook his head and ran a hand down his face before cursing. "No, no--fuck."

"Wait--" You interrupted, moving slightly away from the shelter of Frankie's body so they could hear you. "It might be still here."

"What do you mean, baby?" Frankie asked, keeping his hand in the small of your back and raising an eyebrow in question.

"Before," you swallowed hard and glanced at Tom before looking back to your brother. "Before they put me in the spare bedroom--they were painting. So much paint. All through the night."

"What does that matter?" Tom asked curtly.

Pope's eyes widened slightly as he put his hat back on backwards and pointed at you. "Shit--" he looked back at Tom. "What does that smell like to you?" His nostrils flared and he started looking around on the floor.

"Like a serious fuck up, man," Frankie bit his lip and Benny chuckled. 

"No, she's right," Pope pointed to the wall nearest to him, and then to the cans of paint that were piled just outside the door. "It's fucking paint."

All of the men looked at the walls and took note for the first time of the crisp shine that lay on the fresh top coat. Parts of the room still looked wet to the naked eye, and rolls of painter's tape lay in various forgotten places on the floor and along the baseboards.

"The house is the safe," Tom whispered as he lowered his gun and moved away from where he was leaning on the desk. "The house is the fucking safe."

"The house is the safe," Pope nodded as a smile broke out on his face. He turned and crossed the few feet to you, putting his hands on the sides of your face and kissing you on the forehead. "You're a fucking genius, hermana." 

Pope walked towards the closest wall and pulled out his hunting knife. He kept it sheathed and used the blunt handle to start hitting. The drywall was thin, and crumbled easily under the force in a dusting of white and chunks of paint and insulation. Just like you all had concluded each section of the wall was filled with stacks upon stacks of bundles of cash. Pope picked up a bundle and turned around slowly to show it to the others--a large grin plastered on his face.

"Holy shit," Benny moved to a wall opposite of Pope and started hitting the drywall with his elbow, over and over, until he had a wall big enough to start pulling the sheet rock down with his hands. "Will! Help me, man!"

Will joined his brother as they slid the large table to the side and took down the giant oil painting that covered most of the wall. Each of them started ripping and soon bundles of money were falling into the floor from the force of their search.

"Holy shit!" Benny said again. 

Each of them laughed and cursed, hooped and hollered, as they broke down each individual wall and revealed the cash underneath. Frankie made sure you stepped back before he took out his own knife and started helping.

"We need bags," Pope called.

"I got it," Will nodded, tossing a couple of the duffles to them.

"Keep 'em coming, man!" Benny said, catching the canvas and dropping to his knees to start shoveling hundred dollar bills into the bags. 

Frankie paused for a moment and looked at Pope with a serious look on his face. "What's wrong, Fish?" Pope asked.

"If the money’s still here, it means he’s still here." Frankie said, glancing back at you before back to the other man.

He was right. It made you look over your shoulder cautiously for any sign of the narcos lurking in the shadows. However, no one was in the room except the six of you. 

"He's gone man!" Benny called as he toppled one of the armchairs away from the wall and got to work on an untouched part of the room. "There's more over here!"

"Back wall, too!" Will called.

"Concentrate boys," Tom snarled, shoving fistfulls of cash bundles into a bag of his own. "How much time we got??"

"Eight minutes!" The Miller brothers said in unison from the opposite side of the room. 

They were all panting with the exertion of breaking the sides of the house and hustling to get as much of the stash into the duffle bags as they could, tossing them into the threshold of the office once they were zipped up and ready to go. The uneasy feeling was back in your stomach and you moved back over to Frankie's side and put your hand on his arm. "Cat--" you started to whisper but Tom yelled over you.

"Start getting this shit down to the van," he barked, tossing another bag onto the pile. "Keep your eyes open, do you hear me?"

Frankie looked at you with eyes so gentle it made your heart ache. It had been so long and yet with him standing in front of you it was as if he had spent the night in your bed just days ago. Without speaking, it was as if he understood what you were trying to tell him. You wanted to get the hell out of that mansion--money be damned. 

"We'll do it," Frankie spoke up, breaking your gaze to look at Tom. "(Y/n) and I will go get the van and start loading up. We need to go."

"Good plan," Will nodded, handing his bag off to you instead of tossing it, with a reassuring smile.

"I can tell you one thing man," Pope, laughed as he and Tom continued to use both hands to shovel money onto the floor. "You can tell your girls they can stop studying, because Daddy's going to buy their way into Harvard!"

"Yeah, bitches!" Benny said with another cackle.

Frankie tossed another bag over his shoulder and made sure you were with him before moving out of the office and down the steps. Will was close on your heels as he passed Frankie and said, "I'll go get the van."

"Be careful," Frankie nodded.

The two of you made it to the breezeway that framed the driveway in place of a garage. The cool air felt good on your skin and the rain smelled refreshing as you stood in a spot that it hadn't managed to blow in on. Getting out of that house felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and with the relaxation came the ache of your tired muscles. Frankie told you to stay put and he made a couple more trips as they continued to toss him bags of money down the staircase. He was not subtle in the fact that you were never out of his sight for more than a handful of seconds. Each time he came back to throw more bags onto the pile, he touched your arm as if to reassure himself that you were real.

Will backed the van up and as soon as it got into position, Frankie hit the back doors with the palm of his hand, signaling a stop. He threw open the double doors and started loading.

"You guys stay here," Will said after he hopped out of the driver's side. "Get it loaded up and Benny and I will do the running."

"Sounds good." Frankie nodded and kept moving, working methodically to get as much into the back as was possible. It was like a game of real life Tetris. 

You handed him bag after bag, finally speaking up as the van started to become full to the brim. "Cat--" you started again and he paused to look at you. "We need to go. Please."

It was the 'please' that got him. The look in your eyes that said if you spent another minute in this god forsaken mansion, it would break you. You had watched your crew die, you had been manhandled, tied up, and left alone. And now that he had come to the rescue, you needed as much distance between yourself and this place as humanly possible. His eyes softened and crinkled lightly around the edges, lines that hadn't been there two years ago but that you suddenly found endearing. 

"Okay," he nodded. "Okay, we're going. Come on, baby." He slammed the doors shut as he tossed the last bag in and grabbed your hand like he had before. 

The two of you walked back up the stairs at a hurried pace and when you walked back into the office you weren't prepared for what you saw. Between Pope and Tom, they had gotten the entire wall torn down and from ceiling to floor, stacked within the studs that made the frame of the house, was nothing but bundles and bundles of cash. Benny had moved into the hall just outside of the office and on a hunch, started hammering at another wall. 

"There's more over here!" He called back to the others.

Frankie looked in the hall, and in the bedroom you had been tied up in, noting that each wall had a fresh coat of paint just like in Lorea's office. "It's the whole fucking house--fuck--"

"What is it, Fish?"

"The van's full man," Frankie urged him, looking at the rest of the guys in the office. 

"It's all good," Will nodded, stopping his task of filling another bag. "We gotta go." 

"Holy shit, this is a fuck ton of money," Benny said, grabbing another full bag and starting the trek down the stairs. 

"We need to go," Frankie repeated what Will announced and Pope nodded in agreement. The only one who didn't move towards the door was Tom.

"We got time a couple more loads," he mumbled as he continued to hack away at a new wall with his machete. 

Frankie narrowed his gaze on the man and glared at the back of his head. "What the hell are you doing? Stop digging more out we have all this to deal with!" He gestured to the floor that was littered with already packed bags and you tightened your grip on his hand. The anger building in his voice was undeniable.

 "I said, just a couple more loads!" Tom argued without turning around and even looking at the others. 

You waited for Frankie to retort but Will beat him to it, kicking one of the chairs out of his way and pointing at Tom. "You know in the ten years I've been working with you Tom, you have never missed a hard out!"

"We need to go!" Benny called from the stairs and Tom whipped around in anger. 

"Listen to me! I gave us a fifteen minute cushion," he gestured out the window to the driveway. "That's twelve minutes to the church, a forty minute service, and twelve minutes back. Add five minutes to load in and out of the van and we can subtract seven and beat them to the exit route." He slammed his hand against the wall and raised his voice another level. "We will be fine! Alright? God dammit, look at all this!" He waved his arms around the room and Frankie shook his head. 

"Fuck this!" He snarled and gripped your hand to start walking you down the hall. 

"Fish is right," Will said, working to keep his voice calm and even to counteract Tom's. "Time’s up. We gotta go."

"Wait--" Pope finally spoke up and Frankie stopped in the hall to look back at him. 

"Santi--" you said, shaking your head. Surely he didn't agree with Tom. 

"I want one more sweep for Lorea--," he said, looking pointedly at you. "Alright? (Y/n)?" He knew you were scared, he knew they needed to leave, but three years of hunting this bastard and if he didn't do one more search of the house, he would always wonder what if. "And then we burn it all down."

Against his better judgement, Frankie nodded in agreement and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. (Y/n) and I will get these last ones down there, and you call when you're ready to light it up. But you better fucking hustle."

Will and Tom pulled themselves away from the walls and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Pope started to follow and you let go of Frankie to grab his arm instead. 

"Don't do this. Please. We need to go, now." You begged and looked him in the eyes.

"I have to look one more time," he said as gently as he could as he gripped your arm in return. "He has killed so many people. I have never been this close before--it ends now."

"Santiago--" you said, using his full name in a tone you both knew sounded like your mother.

"Go with Frankie," he nodded to the man at your right. "Go downstairs and get ready to--"

"GET DOWN!" 

Tom's voice rang out from the bedroom at the end of the hall and the doorway erupted in an ear shattering blast of automatic fire and flashing lights. Frankie slammed you up against the wall and covered you with his body, bracing his forearms over your head. You made a noise as your back hit the drywall but you knew he didn't mean it--his only goal was to protect you, even though you were the one wearing the kevlar. The action made you remember just how much bigger he was than you as your world went dark and all you felt was the solid plane of his chest and cotton button up. 

There was yelling, more gunfire, you heard Pope yell rapidly in his native tongue and Will said something over the bullets before everything went silent. 

"What the hell are we shooting at?!" Frankie called above your head, loud enough that his voice carried into the bedroom. He looked down at you against his chest, panting hard as his heart raced. “You okay?” he whispered and you nodded. You were so tired of the sound of gunfire.

"Target down!" Tom called back and it made Frankie move back and let you breathe once again. 

The two of you hurried into the bedroom and you gasped as Frankie put his arm out to keep you safely behind him. 

Pope stood in the doorway of a secret safe room that had been hidden behind a large armoire. In the entrance to the hiding space lay Lorea in a pool of his own blood, with a bullet dead center in the middle of his forehead. Call it a hunch, but you knew your brother had made that hell of a shot. Pope had his gun pointed at the unmoving body and the veins in his arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the weapon. His body went still before he pulled the trigger again, then again, over and over, emptying the entire clip into Lorea's head. Once the narcos was nothing more than a pile of blood and brain matter the gun clicked empty and Pope lowered his arms, hitting the release on the magazine and letting it fall to the floor. 

Frankie approached him slowly and moved his own rifle to one hand so he could touch his friend on the shoulder. "You got him, man."

"He's dead." Pope said flatly and Frankie nodded.

"Good."

A groan came from the other side of the room as Will dropped to one knee with a thud. Everyone turned as they watched the blonde put a hand to his side and pull it back with his own blood painted across his fingers. 

"I'm hit." He grunted, tossing his rifle to the side and working on the straps of his gear. 

You hurried to his side as Tom mirrored your movements and the two of you flanked the man on the ground.

"Where?" Tom said.

"Left side." Will groaned as you helped him lay flat on the ground with his head resting against his backpack.

"Help me get this off, Tom," you said firmly, pulling at the straps of his kevlar that had ridden up just enough to let the bullet go through his lower love handle. You raised up Will's shirt and inspected the wound as warm blood slid down your hand and over your wrist before dripping to the floor. The man hissed as you probbed the wound. "It went straight through."

"Thank fuck," Tom said, looking up as Pope rummaged through his bag and handed you his clot kit. 

"Get it on him, and then we gotta go."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Will nodded as Pope took Tom's place on his opposite side. Tom and Frankie aimed both of their guns at the door as they heard footsteps. "I told you this was a stupid idea." Will groaned. 

"Yeah, you sure did," Pope chuckled, helping you wrap the stretchy material around his waist and apply pressure. 

Benny came back in and the two guarding the door quickly aimed their guns at the ground. "Church is out--they're back...shit." His eyes got wide as he laid sight on his brother and the blood all over your hands.

"The family is here?" Frankie asked and Benny shook his head.

"No, the first shift of guards."

Once you secured the clotting cloth, Will thanked you with a grip of your arm and a smile that reached his kind, blue eyes. You stood and allowed Benny to take your spot, helping him get his kit back on and slowly make it to his feet. They hadn't brought a stretcher and they definitely couldn't carry him out of here, but the blonde kept repeating that he could make it. 

"Okay, new plan," Pope looked out the window, watching the guards pull up to the house. "we each grab a backpack of cash and we go out through the jungle and around."

"No, no way," Will shook his head and groaned as he got all the way up onto his feet. 

"We are getting Ironhead home safe!" Tom pointed at the blond. "Not trekking him through the jungle. And we are not leaving them any of this fucking money!"

Frankie felt his hands ball into fists as he took a step towards Tom but Pope blocked him with his arm and you took the hint to go stand by him. 

"Right…" Pope said cautiously with a desperate look on his face--talking to Tom like the ticking time bomb that he was. "So, we burn it all down and go."

"There is about a hundred million dollars down there in that van," Tom pointed to the hall. "We are going out the front. We need to hunt and shoot quickly. Call out your kills--I don't want any fucking surprises!"

There was a moment of silence as the two men clearly struggled for who was calling the shots. You tried to breathe evenly as you watched the vein pop in your brother's neck as he stared down Tom. Tom had always been your least favorite of your brother's squad. His hotheaded manner and stubbornness always seemed to get him, and anyone else in his path, in more trouble than they should have. But you stayed next to Frankie and let Pope think this one out.

"We had two objectives--Lorea and (Y/n). Now, I am not putting my sister or Ironhead in more danger for some fucking narcos money."

"Both of them will be in more danger if we drag our sorry asses through that jungle," Tom stepped closer to the other man. "You brought me here to lead--now, I'm not asking, we're not taking a vote, I'm telling you...we're leaving through the front."

The two of them continued to stare at one another before Pope finally backed down with a nod and your stomach dropped to the floor. "Alright."

"Let's get it done," Will said, breathing heavily as he adjusted his rifle in his hands. "Quick and clean. Like always."

"Pope and Frankie, you take (y/n) and go out that way and down through the kitchen. Millers down the front. I'll hang back and keep an eye out--here we go fellas." Tom accentuated each order with a point and gesture of his arm and Frankie looked down at you.

"Get your gun out," he said, lowering his voice as you all started to move in the directions you were told. "Don't shoot first--unless necessary."

"Got it," you nodded, gripping the glock tighter than was needed to keep your hands from shaking. 

You moved swiftly and with purpose. Taking two steps to Frankie's one as you moved down the stairs and through the living room. A short spatter of bullets sounded from the dining room and shortly after, you heard Will's voice through the com on Frankie's ear. "That's two down in the front hall."

The two of you turned the corner and Frankie squeezed the trigger, firing twice into the chest of a guard who crossed his path. "That's three."

Another round of shots and Pope's voice came next, "That's four."

"Back to the main gate. They dropped more guys out there."

Frankie clicked his com, "I'm going out through the kitchen and grabbing the van."

"The kitchen is the wrong way, what are you on about Fish?" Tom's voice came over, confused and irritated.

"I got something I gotta do." He said back and turned to you behind him. "Stay here."

"What??" You said, your voice a little higher than you would have liked it to be.

"I need you to stay here." He tried to be reassuring but your heart started hammering in your chest and the thought of being alone again in this place. The idea of him leaving you for any reason made it even worse. 

"Don't leave me," you shook your head. The fear on your face must have been more evident than you thought because looking at you made him hesitate. 

"You promise that no matter what happens in the next few minutes, you'll do as I say?" He asked and your fear turned increasingly into a mixture of panic. 

"Frankie--"

"Promise me, (y/n)." He said flatly, he was not negotiating.

You nodded, adding in a meek voice, "I promise."

He led the way into the kitchen, his rifle was slung over his shoulder by the strap as he took out another handgun from the holster at his side. The appliances were incredibly outdated but the creamy butter-yellow walls and white cabinets easily made the kitchen the brightest room in the desolate house. You watched Frankie walk around the kitchen island, his gun sweeping the area as he moved into the heart of the room. 

Two men lay on the tile floor, bound and gagged, and you knew exactly who they were. They were two of Lorea's head guards, the ones that shoved you in the van in the middle of the city, the one that hit you, tied you up--and Frankie knew it too. 

He raised his gun and one of the men started to yell around the black electrical tape over his mouth, thrashing his head back and forth wildly. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

"Frankie…" you said, standing next to him and touching his side. 

He lowered the gun ever so slightly and looked at you. "Remember the deal? Whatever I say, right?"

Bile rose in your throat as you saw the hardened look in the eyes of one of the kindest men you have ever known. Those normally warm, coffee-colored eyes were almost black as he looked at you with a locked jaw and unwavering stance. Seeing such emotion in him and how palpable it felt around his aura hurt more than you ever thought it could. Tears burned in the back of your throat as you nodded. You weren't crying for the men on the floor, you were crying to the soul of the man you loved. 

He reached his free arm out and drew you against the shelter of the side of his body. He could feel you tremble against him as you grabbed onto his shirt like the lifeline that it was. 

"Close your eyes and cover your ears," he said, flatly and when he felt you let go of him to do so, he pulled the trigger. 

One shot. Muzzle. Bitch. Two shots. Merchandise. Cunt.  

Two clean shots, echoing in the empty kitchen, hit both of them directly in the center of the forehead. No mistake, no chance, just dead. Frankie felt you jolt against him with each bang and no matter how much he wanted the men at his feet to suffer the way you had suffered, he wouldn't risk making you feel differently about him. The idea that the rage bubbling in his gut could make you look at him in fear was enough to keep his emotions in check. He had done what he needed to do. They would never lay hands on anyone else the way they had laid hands on his girl, no one would ever suffer because of them again--for now, that was enough. 

--

Neither you nor Frankie spoke as you left the mansion and loaded into the van. You watched in the rearview mirror as Tom squeezed the lighter fluid on every inch of the foyer and the curtains that lined the walls. He pulled out a lighter and paused for a moment before flicking it to life and tossing it down. The front of the house quickly engulfed in flames, so bright they burned blue towards the bottom where the heat was the most intense. 

The wipers squeaked in a rhythmic annoyance as you sat in the van and the two of you waited for the rest of them to get the other vehicle. An SUV of guards pulled into the compound and you gripped the console as Pope and Will opened fire, busting the tinted windows and peppering everyone inside with bullets. Each man opened a door and grabbed a now lifeless guard by the shirt and pulled him out to let him slump to the ground like a ragdoll. 

You watched as Tom moved up from the ditch and shot the last guard in another spray of blood that was quickly washed down the rocks by the rain. 

It was suddenly too humid in the car. There was not enough air circulating as your chest felt tight and your breathing increased. It felt as if someone was sitting on top of you. Your hands shook, your eyes burned, and you wanted to claw at your throat to desperately rid yourself of whatever was stuck inside of your windpipe.

"Frankie," you managed to choke out as you started to feel around your vest for the buckles. "Frankie, I can't breathe." 

"Hey, hey," he said softly, turning his body in the seat to face you. Saying your name, he reached out and put his hand over yours as you kept trying to rip at the straps of the kevlar. "Stop. (Y/n) stop."

"I can't--" you started to argue with a shake of your head and you hated how weak your voice sounded. You weren't broken. You could do this. But the silence of the car, paired with finally being in a space of solitude with Frankie, was forcing every fear and thought you had in the last three days to race to the surface. 

"You can," he insisted. "We are not out of the woods yet." He took your hand in his and scooted as close to you as the center console would allow. He put your hand over his heart and made sure you locked eyes with him. "This has to stay on you. You understand? I know what you're feeling and I promise as soon as we get somewhere safe you can fall as hard as you need to and I’ll be there, okay?"

You nodded way too quickly and felt dizzy the moment the motion made your hair bounce. He squeezed the hand he had pressed against his chest and dipped his head to make sure you caught his gaze.

“I’m okay,” you said, not sounding okay in the slightest, but maybe if you said it outloud it would be true.

“I know you are,” he reassured you. “Breathe with me. In through your nose--there it is. Out through your mouth. You got it. Here.” He leaned forward and turned on the A/C, pointing the extra vents at you and breathing became easier once you felt the cool air tickle the strands of your hair. He kept hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it a few times.

“Thank you,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the headrest continuing to breathe as evenly as you could. 

“No thanks needed, sweetheart,” he said quietly, looking back out the window as Pope gave him a signal to keep moving. “That’s us.” 

You started to pull your hand away so he could drive but he kept his grip on it, balancing them on the gearshift as he moved his freehand to the top of the steering wheel. The unconscious action made you smile a bit. Something as simple as holding his hand over the console of the car reminded you of summer drives in his truck. With rolled down windows and a classic rock station, you could almost smell the wind in the grass and hear the frogs calling along the tree line. You held onto that memory as tightly as you held onto his hand, knowing that it was the only things that were going to get you out of this fucking jungle in one piece.

--

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[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.