#and the cops are like you're right on boss

[puppetsoftomorrow]

i think it is silly they pretended no one would notice when it was diggle in the arrow suit, given it Barely covers olivers face, but i also think they could have leaned into it, hired a load of different people to be seen in the arrow suit

so cops and criminals and civilians are in a bar like yeah bro i saw the arrow it was a white guy! and his buddy is like no way i saw him and it was a black guy? and the next guy is like i saw him and he was an old chinese man? and the next guy is like no way. i definitly saw a morrocan woman under that hood. and the next guy is like no way -

[gxlden-angels]

Bro I hate fundamentalists and culturally-fundie parents they'll say shit like "spare the rod spoil the child am I right haha yea my parents used to have to beat my ass with a switch almost everyday but I sure did learn my lesson" but like??? no you didn't??? you were hit multiple times for something you very obviously did not, in fact, learn

Like studies about how harmful even lightly spanking children is aside, you're literally contradicting yourself?? Some even admitted they got worse as they got older cause they wanted to see how far they could push their parents before they got punished

And studies not aside, you're gonna get child raising advice from the same book that tells you to stone your wife if her hymen doesn't break on your wedding night instead of the decades of research we have now?? Just say you're a bad parent and move on my guy. Skill issue

[masschase]

i can’t remember if you talked about it before, but for the ask meme i’m curious about troy and casey. and if you have already, or feel like talking about more than one ship, what about casey and viola?

Ooh, OK! I thought I wasn't going to get any this time around so this is a pleasant surprise! 😊

Have your followers send in suggestions for ships for your OC, and you describe how good/bad/amazing/disastrous/hilarious it would end up.

Casey and Troy

So Troy and Casey is a definite no! At one point early on in forming my hcs I was going to have them be cousins, and while I have yet to give a definitive answer on whether they are or not, I've been shifting back in the direction that are, but that unlike my original hc, neither of them remotely know that in my main-universe. In fact, you know what? They are and I'm going to do a post on that later because I have more to say on it. 😁

However, speaking from a potential situation where they're not related... it's still not something I can see.

So just off the bat I don't ship Casey with anyone during SR1 because she's only 15 at the start(slight exception being in universes where she has Zoo as her co-boss and/or friend as they are the same age, so I shall allow them their little moments). The next youngest Saint is Dex who I hc as 21 and gay so... yeah, no. But I do have the thing of Casey having one-sided crushes on Johnny, Lin and Dex.

Why not Troy? He just wasn't someone she saw as "cool" like she saw the others, in fact he was quite protective and responsible with regards to her and this is why I see their connection as more familial and duty-based (because I believe regardless of Troy leaning towards the Saints overall he's had a keen sense of protecting civilians drummed into him since childhood) even if they aren't related by blood. When she starts to succeed in life, he feels pretty proud of her.

Additionally, while I see that Troy is a complicated and probably conflicted character, Casey takes a long time to get out of the mindset that he betrayed her. It's one of those things where she knows it's not entirely black and white but she can't quite shake the grudge she felt when she woke up from the coma and found out.

There is the brief and admittedly kind of silly thing about Troy having a wife who resembles Casey(referencing ONE mission and something I thought of bc of posts so far back I will NOT be able to find them but you know). I don't believe that's because Troy has some secret attraction to Casey, I think it's something he just doesn't really see because he doesn't want to. He sees them too differently.

So there just isn't a place and time for them, you know? But even if things were to align, I just don't think they're attracted to each other, sexually or romantically, so I can't really envision a ship dynamic for them.

Casey and Viola

This one is interesting. I think Viola is incredibly grateful Casey allowed her to join the Saints, but her overall opinion of her is Boss first, friend second, and Casey reacts accordingly, so they're not super close friends. I can see some physical attraction between the two, more Casey towards Viola than vice versa(partly bc of Viola's thing for Shaundi, but also just in general). I don't think they ever hooked up but like they easily could have given the right situation.

Romantically, on the other hand, I can't see it at all. Viola and Casey are both, to me, "cool" characters emotionally. While they aren't unpleasant people I think both of them have a certain standoffishness, though Viola's would appear as more "professional/detached" and Casey's as "chill/unphased".

I think they both have a great deal of capacity for love. But I think they both need an emotionally warm character to unlock that. I think Shaundi for example is emotionally warm even if some of the barriers she puts up from SR3 onwards make it hard to see, which is why time and place dependant, she works as a ship for them both. For the record, they could potentially work as a triad. Maybe. But I also feel like there's also something about the Shaunvi vibe that Casey would just throw off completely. Maybe because she's almost the mediator between them so she might balance out what's passionate and interesting about them.

This is going a little off topic but I've actually wanted to talk about this aspect of Casey for a while because when you look at their first impressions you wouldn't get that she is the cold one and Matt is the warm one. Matt doesn't immediately come across as "warm" at all but I would chalk that up to fear and anxiety. In SR4 we get to see him acting a lot more openly emotional as well as passionate about things he cares about, because he's found a group of people he actually feels comfortable enough around to be himself. Leaning more towards headcanons (although maybe not so much when you see his rejected advances towards Asha in-game) I have him as quite physically affectionate/touchy feely. It's a combination of sensory seeking and not always being able to put his affection for people into words.

I don't allude to it here as much but in my writing I make frequent mention of it. Casey talks about how she's always cold and Matt is really warm as a justification for being physically close with him. I constantly have Casey tell Matt to relax/breathe when he's panicking and talk about how he finds her cool touch calming. That sort of thing. If you want to go one further there's the fact that Casey smells warm (cinnamon) but feels cold when you get closer, and Matt smells cold (lemon) but when you get closer he's physically warm.

But getting back to my actual point- Matt and Casey take a long time to get together because he's like a very persistant hairdryer melting a block of ice. But it works eventually. With Viola, Shaundi is more like a decent heat source which melts the ice very easily once her own barrier (in my hc, finding out in 2016 that Johnny isn't actually dead) is lifted. Viola and Casey on the other hand are just... two blocks of ice. It's a nice thought but it's just not going anywhere.

[yanderenightmare]

Mahito x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, psychological torture, Mahito in and of himself

fem reader

Mahito is so scary because you're the only one who sees him. 

You can't tell your friends, you can't call the cops, you can't even discuss it with your therapist for fear of being committed. 

You're all alone with him – half the time convinced you’re going insane.

He doesn't even need to kidnap you. Why would he? He likes your cozy apartment. To see you in your natural habitat with all your personal trinkets. Your books, your decorations, the contents of your fridge, your makeup, your clothes, not to mention the soft warmth of your bed…

Sure, his sewer has its charm, but you probably wouldn’t like it there very much. Not that it would stop him, but he’s sure you’d be boring if all you did was stay cooped up there all day. 

This is much more interesting. To be there when you come home from work, having trifled through all your belongings, dragged everything out – made a mess like a new puppy would. To watch you try to cling to your sanity, going about life, trying to live it normally even when he’s right there on your sofa wanting to dish about how much you loath your pissy boss or that loud neighbor and what fun it might be to kill them.

You brush him off as intrusive thoughts – a manifestation within your mind. That’s the only explanation that allows you to keep your wits with you.

But it’s become hard to bring anyone home. Even though others can't see him, he’ll walk about your friends and the odd date and comment on all the things they do, ridiculing them when they say something cheesy, feigning puking before giving it away with a snicker, then asking you why you bother hanging out with them at all. And you wonder if that’s what you really think… why else would a figment of your imagination say something like that?

No. You decide. He doesn’t represent your thoughts. He’s just… a roommate who knows no boundaries. 

Funny enough, you don’t really recognize that he’s any dangerous before you’re getting dressed after a shower, opening a drawer on your dresser you rarely look in – only to find it overfilled with dozens of tiny shrunken heads.

You scurry back on the floor with your hand clasped over your mouth until your back meets your bed – skin crawling. There’s no air left in your lungs from the shock to produce any such thing as a scream – so instead, you start heaving – then crying.

“Oh – I was wondering when you’d find them!” A cheer is heard from your bedroom threshold.

Your eyes pan to look at him – or it. Mahito, with a big grin on his face – clapping as though impressed by your performance.

“Wh-what – what is this?” You splutter, trying not to throw up – casting shifty glances over at the lump that had fallen to the floor – its face twisted with agony, unrecognizable, but you think you still knew… “What have you done?”

It doesn’t smell of rot, but something else – like unwashed clothing – sweat and piss and shit – you don’t understand how you hadn’t smelled it before. You don’t understand how you hadn’t heard it before – the moaning, though only in hoarse weak voices, still there, in a chorus, crying in pain.

“I’ve been studying them.” He says – casually, padding across the floor before bending down to pick the one up.

He looked at it with disappointment, throwing it up and catching it like one would a baseball – then clicked his tongue. 

“But I must say you’ve got boring taste… I don’t feel like I learned much of use from any of them at all.” 

He drops it to the floor in a fleshy splat, and you cringed anew – wanting to crawl away, wanting to get out, to call the police – maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to be committed – maybe there was something genuinely wrong with you…

Mahito doesn't share your concerns, though. He’s got his mind on other things. 

“I think I’ll learn better through practice.”

You don’t realize what he’s talking about before you’re being lifted up on the bed and then pushed down against it.

His lean but muscular frame has you dwarfed as he crawls after you – caging you between his arms and legs.

“I wouldn’t mind the floor, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bed. That’s how you humans usually like it, right?” He smiles – as though he’s doing you a favor. 

He’s taken off his usual tunic – showcasing a pale grey chest patchworked together in crude stitches – and you don’t really understand why you’d ever conjure something that looked like it. So human, yet still… so not. 

“I didn’t know what size you’d want – they were all so different – but I think bigger is better, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t register before you feel the weight of it on your stomach. 

Fat and warm, ridged with veins and hard against you. 

Looking down, feeling the situation settle on your skin like the raw cold – you realize, though you don’t understand it – Mahito isn’t just some imaginary friend. 

Whatever he is – he’s no such thing as a friend at all.

Your chest flares. “Mahito, no – ”

Your hands fly to try and push him off, but they’re easily caught. His fingers stretch inhumanly like playdough, using only one hand to reign in both wrists, pinning them to the pillow above you.

“No? Still too small?” He asks, as though your uproar had been a cry for more – his voice in a playful lilt. “I can make it bigger if you like~”

You squirm when the thing between your thighs grows an inch – swelling up into something fatter than your wrist – weighty and twitching atop you. 

It alone churns your guts, but the sight of his face gleaming so innocently makes it all so much worse. 

You whimper as he drags a rude finger through your folds – bluntly poking at your hole.

“You’re supposed to be wet, no?” He posed, keen eyes watching your face grimace in discomfort – drilling his digit inside you despite it. 

When knuckle-deep, he curled it, nail scraping into the gummy of your tender walls – making your whole body twist with an ache, shaking your head while sinking your teeth into your lip.

“Stop-” You croaked pitifully, still trying to wring your wrists free – but the hand keeping them jailed had hardened into something that was no longer skin.

He just yawned at your struggle. “So noisy...” Bored while looking down at you and the ugly way your lips curled at his crude fingering – but then his eyes widened. “Wait – oh! I get it now! So, this is what kissing is for…”

He didn’t give you much time to turn away before his mouth locked on yours – more in an attempt to swallow than to kiss, feeding you his tongue – which felt so much longer than it should be – winding through you until it licked your gag-reflex and made you choke.

You tensed in response, clenching the finger prodding you – and he took it as an invitation to squeeze another in – making you squeal out a sob in his mouth. 

But though it was a cruel ministration, it was enough to tickle the instinct – dragging wet out from within you, bathing the digits that now slid with greater ease in and out.

“See~ I told you I’d learn better through practice...” He mumbled against your lips – having felt the change – also noticing the quiet that befell you… looking so cute beneath him. 

He chuckled – the taste of your kiss still warm and wet on his lips.

“That really did shut you up, hm~ you humans are so funny.”

That thing resting heavily on your belly does a little jump, and you flinch with it. Left panting after being throat-fucked by a tongue – you’re really only able to shake your head as he slips the beastly thing down between your thighs – its fat head licking your clit on its way until kissing your entrance.

Two fingers haven't done you any justice – nothing could – to prep you for something of that size.

“I think this is correct…” He muses, nudging himself against the slim coin-sized hole – looking a little confused while he did so – though not exactly unsure of himself… more as though it was the whole procedure in and of itself that was at fault and not him. He was just following instructions, after all.

Sucking his teeth at the tautness, he continued to press the tip through you. 

A whine was ripped from your chest as it arched off the bed – thighs quaking on each side of his hips, kept spread despite wanting to force themselves shut.

“It’s better if you relax.” He offered then, though without much sympathy. Sounding almost jaded – as though you were keeping him waiting. 

But then a thumb pressed down on your clit, forcing another jolt to rush through you. 

“Women like to be touched here, right?” He rubbed crass circles into it – worse than amateurishly – rough patterns that bore no real intention of making you feel good. 

Then his mouth slid from your mouth, down your neck – only to sink teeth in your tit.

“And here~” He giggled while nomming your nipple, rolling the little nib between his teeth before flicking over it with his tongue again and again, sucking on it harshly.

None of it made you relax like he’d suggested. Either way, he continued to sink his length one thick chub at a time as fast as your hole allowed. And soon enough, he reached your end before your hole could reach his. But that was no issue…

The hand on your clit, cupped your mound instead – and beneath it, where warmth pooled, you felt inner things alter – change, rearrange, allowing the giant member inside you to sink deeper even though you knew there couldn’t possibly be any deeper to go.

“Wow~ look at that…” He awed when his pelvis smushed against your mound – kneading into your clit as he pressed a curious hand down on the bulge he was making in your belly.

Strings of drool stuck from his lips to your chest – and a sick look pooled in his eyes.

Thicker and thicker breaths left him. He swallowed thickly. Barely blinking.

“I think I get it now…” His voice had shed its humorous tone, now sounding soft with something you didn’t want to have the attention of. “It’s like our souls are playing together…” 

His hand stroked your stomach – like he was petting something.

“Feels good.”

[miirohs]

world burning [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.” 

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.” 

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.” 

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Troublemaker - C.SC

🚨Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🚨What: Gang au, smut, gang boss Seungcheol, gang member reader, angst, humour(low key crackish) and some fluff to top it all off. 🚨Wordcount: 15.9k 🚨Warnings: Do not take anything I write about police/law seriously, I don’t know shit about anything, okay. Reader is unhinged and shameless(and emotionally incompetent). Gang typical stuff; violence, drugs, alcohol, prostitution, theft etc. Handcuffs. Profanity. Degrading names. Unprotected sex, hair pulling, oral(both), multiple sex scenes/positions, breeding kink, choking, multiple orgasms, clit slapping, marking and potentially other fun things I’m likely forgetting about.

Summary: You're known for being able to get your hands on anything you want; drugs, weapons, money, cars. Except your boss, he's always been a little out of your reach, until the day you have him handcuffed in the backseat.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- the image of Seungcheol on his knees with his hands behind his head getting arrested popped into my head and spawned this and i am not okay This story well and truly ran away from me, I cannot be held accountable for this shitshow. I planned a quick lil smut thing and then the fluff and angst appeared and here we are.

It's a beautiful sight to pull up to; the Choi Seungcheol on his knees, thick thighs spread wide with his fingers lacing together behind his head, biceps bulging in his plain white t-shirt. The same Choi Seungcheol who for the past four years has been running the most cunning, slippery gang that has graced the city in decades. 

Local law enforcement has been trying to get their mitts on him since before he even started the gang, but Seungcheol is smart, he's always made sure to keep his hands squeaky clean. 

Which is why when you heard the news come through on your police scanner that he's been spotted with some real nasty fuckers and this is the chance to get him cuffed, you wanted to get there asap to witness and join the scene.

Who wouldn't want to have the pleasure of slapping some cuffs on Choi Seungcheol and shove him around a little, afterall?

"What did you get him for?" You ask as you approach the scene with nothing but confidence, thumbs hooked into your belt casually. 

Seungcheol glances over at you and his jaw tightens with how hard he clenches his teeth; he takes you in from head to toe, dressed in uniform so crisp it's like you've just pulled it on. You have. He doesn't look impressed.

"Probable cause," the young, over-eager cop getting ready to handcuff Seungcheol informs, sounding almost proud while his partner keeps his gun pointed firmly at Seungcheol's head. 

Seungcheol isn't stupid, reckless at times, yeah; he's been known to get pretty injured and take some big risks with his own body in order to get what he wants, but even he wouldn't risk making a move in front of a trigger-happy rookie-cop.

"Oh, you fucking idiots," you laugh, walking over to snatch the cuffs into your own hold.

"What the fuck?" The younger cop baulks dumbstruck. "Who the fuck are you to just-" 

"You really think you're going to get brownie points with the Captain by brining him Choi Seungcheol with no solid fucking cause? You think you can just put the guy in cuffs and the rest will follow? You're fucking stupid, kid," 

"But we caught him," 

"Yeah and you know what his legal team is like? You're fucking lucky I turned up,"

"Why?" 

"Because I'm willing to take him off your hands and deal with it myself. I've had my eye on Choi for fucking years, boys; I've got quite the file on him. What have you got?" 

Admittedly, you take a hell of a lot of joy in grabbing Seungcheol's right forearm to force it down and around to his lower back where you can secure the cuff around his wrist. He grunts at the unexpected force yet doesn't fight you, just clenches his jaw tighter. 

"That's a good boy," you whisper into his ear while the two cops exchange lost, almost torn expressions as they attempt to silently communicate with one another what to do.

Clearly, they don't want to just hand the man over to you but you're right; they don't have shit on Seungcheol and it would only cause them a lot of hassle to arrest him. He's too smart to talk, even in holding and would just stare darkly at them, not moving a muscle until he's released. It happened before, once, over a year ago and his legal team tore apart the station so thoroughly that the cops who arrested him had to resign and get minimum wage jobs despite being the best the precinct had to offer. 

Once you've got Seungcheol securely in the cuffs, you grab his bicep and appreciatively squeeze it as you tug on him to signal him up. You have to bite back your pleased grin at the powerful man listening to your silent orders and obediently getting up. He glares at you over his shoulder.

"You boys better get back to your patrol before you get demoted," you warn, shoving Seungcheol towards your car. He stumbles a little and glares at you again but you ignore it to reach past him and open the back door. 

Seungcheol swears and mutters under his breath when you roughly push his head down and urge him into the back of the car. He almost falls flat on his face onto the cheap imitation-leather seats. You shut the door before his colourful language cussing you out, spills out any further. 

"What?" You ask the two young men still watching you dumbly. "I know, my ass looks great in these," you smirk smugly to yourself and smack your own ass making both men jump at the loud, sudden sound. 

"Yeah," the younger agrees mindlessly, eyes now glued to your ass as you open the driver's door. 

"Idiot," his partner hisses, backhanding him. "Don't fucking agree, now she's gonna report you for sexual harrassment!" 

"She started it!" 

While the pair are arguing, you take the chance to climb into your car and drive off with a pleased little cackle at causing the most chaos you could with so little to work with.

At the end of the street, Seungcheol kicks the back of your seat. You don't need to look at him to know he's glaring at you, you can feel the burn of his gaze on the side of your face. You love it.

"Now now, Mr Choi, please respect my car," he kicks the seat again making you snicker. "So ungrateful, I just saved you from being locked in an interrogation room for 24 hours. You'd think you'd be at least a little appreciative." 

"Like fuck am I," he grunts and shuffles closer to the criss cross of bars separating the two halves of the car. "Didn't have to be so fucking rough, you bitch." You lift your eyes to the rearview mirror to meet his gaze and grin smugly at him before returning your gaze to the road in front of you. "Sick fuck, you get off on it, don't you?" 

"Damn right," you confirm shamelessly with an almost twisted smirk. "Big boss man on his knees for ickle ol' me. Gets me all warm and tingly, Cheolie." 

"How many times have I got to tell you not to fucking call me that?" He's too close to the front seats to kick them again but he does knee the back of yours where his legs are spread as wide as possible in his pale ripped jeans to allow him so close. 

Fuck, you wish you could see his thighs right now. You quickly look over at him to test your range of sight but the fucking seats are in the way. Dammit. 

You sigh and turn back to the road forlornly. "Well, maybe if you ever punish me like you claim you will and then never stick to it, I might learn my lesson."

"You'd fucking like it," he grumbles. You just grin. Yeah, you definitely would. "Pull over and uncuff me." 

"Nope."

"I'm warning you, little one," 

"Pretty sure I'm the one in charge here," you chirp, unaffected by his low, warning tone. Though a second later you're choking on a laugh when his body jerks forward due to you suddenly breaking to join the queue of traffic at a red light. Seungcheol's forehead slams into the grate making him swear harshly. "Oops," you offer with false innocence and a big grin.

"You fucking-" he starts harshly, only to cut off when you pull away rapidly at the green light, sending him toppling back in the seats and cutting off with a surprised sound. You don't stop yourself from laughing that time.

"Now, here's what's gonna happen, Cheolie," you declare when you turn around in your seat to look at where the big gang boss is sitting quietly in the back seat, hands still cuffed behind him between his thick body and the backrest. His thick legs spread with his slouched position. 

Man, he's so fucking thick. You know it's true all over his body. You've conveniently walked in on him fucking enough people to know that the man's blessed with a diabolically thick cock too. 

Not forgetting the memorable time he didn't notice your very obvious spy camera in his bedroom for a full two months. For two glorious months you got to watch him wrap a hand around his cock and cum over his chest in live action and automatically recorded for your rewatch pleasure. 

You've never been more glad that he has a strict policy of not taking anyone to his home to fuck, you quite enjoyed his solo sessions and still watch them regularly. 

In fact, you had been watching one while spread over your own bed when the scanner had caught your attention. You didn't even have the chance to clean up, your thighs are still sticky. But that could also just be from having Seungcheol in handcuffs.

"You happened to interrupt my favourite hobby by almost getting arrested and making me come to your rescue." 

"If you say you were watching those fucking videos again-" he starts.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't increase your security and make it harder for me to put up new cameras." 

"I did that so I don't have your perverted ass watching me in my private spaces!" He barks. "I swear, one day I'm going to actually choke you," 

"Do it," the sparkle in your eyes makes Seungcheol groan in frustration and tip his head back, eyes closing as he prays to a god he doesn't believe in for strength to handle you and your endless depravities. "Question," 

"What?" He sighs and lifts his head to look at you resignedly. After knowing you for so many years, he knows it's just easier to play along unless he wants to deal with you badgering him for the rest of the day. 

"Would you use your hands to choke me?" 

"What else?" 

"Your thighs-" 

"Shut up," he groans and pushes himself further upright. "Can you go a single day without making a remark about my thighs?" 

"No. Can you crush my head between them like you did that watermelon?" 

"I should've never done that. I thought playing along would make you shut the fuck up asking but no, you're even worse." 

"I appreciate art and those thighs, Choi Seungcheol are pure fucking art." 

"We have very different definitions of art," he deadpans. 

"Yes, I know," you roll your eyes. "You like silicone and spray tan," 

"Do I?" He raises an amused eyebrow at you when you look at him suspiciously.

"Every woman I've seen you fuck are more silicone than my dildo collection." 

"Not gonna comment on the collection," he mutters, looking more like he's convincing himself that his curiosity at how extensive your collection may be is not worth actually engaging you in a discussion about your sex life, which he knows heavily involves masturbating to those videos of him masturbating. 

"Do you want to see?" You offer brightly. "I have one that I think could compare to your cock," your gaze drops down to his crotch where there's an obvious bulge that you know is him flaccid. "Maybe..." you suck on your bottom lip thoughtfully as your mind runs wild with memories of the sight of his cock peeking through his fist as he chases his high. Or wrapped in rubber as he bent another woman with fake tits over his desk, or face first against a too-rough wall to take what he wants. 

You really don't know how he can claim to not have a type when you truly have only seen him actually having sex with one type of woman. You've seen him seduce and hit on a wide range of people, not even just women, but that's always to get his way and he doesn't fuck them, even if he does sometimes make out with them just to win them over.

"Stop thinking about my cock," Seungcheol deadpans, snapping you back to reality and looking up at him, though your gaze darts back down realising there's a change in the bulge. "Don't-"

"Are you getting hard?!" You gasp, shuffling onto your knees excitedly and gripping the grate. 

"No." 

"Liar," you grin, eyes sparkling. 

Seungcheol knows he's done for now; for years you've been trying to fuck him and now, now he's actually lost his usual firm grip on his own libido and let you see that he's not actually turned off by you in any way. 

"So, what's going to happen, Cheolie-" he swears at you, head tipping back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course, you ignore the interruption. "Seeing as you ruined my me-time, I'm going to come back there-" 

"And uncuff me." 

"No, silly boy," you giggle. "And ride your giant cock." 

Seungcheol curses under his breath and swallows before lifting his head to look at you.

For a few moments, you both just stare at each other. You, in wait for permission, because although you do a lot of questionable shit you'd never physically force yourself on anyone, and Seungcheol, clearly in thought.

"Get back here," he decides in a low, rough tone that makes your lower stomach twist and squeeze with genuine aroused excitement. 

"Fuck yeah," you exhale, climbing out of the car where minutes ago you parked in one of the many empty warehouses belongings to Seungcheol’s gang. 

Seungcheol watches through the window as you make short work of kicking off your shoes and removing your trousers and panties. He tries to look at you properly but that stupid fucking police uniform shirt you're wearing hangs to the top of your thighs and makes it so that he can't see shit. Not even once you've got the back door open and crawl into the backseat. 

"You got a condom?" He asks, letting out a harsh exhale when you start to palm at his cock without warning. 

"Nope," You shrug carelessly and use your free hand to open his belt before working on the button and zipper. "Got a problem with that?" 

"Fucking you raw?" You hum in confirmation and reluctantly let go of his cock so that you can yank down his jeans and boxers. Seungcheol helpfully lifts his hips off of the seat, leaning back onto his shoulders against the backrest for balance to let you get the clothing down to his knees and reveal his rapidly-hardening cock to your greedy gaze. "You may be fucking psychotic at the best of the times and fucking weirdly obsessed with me-" 

"Hey," you complain, pouting at him offendedly.

"Are you really pouting at me for calling you psychotic?" He deadpans in disbelief. He's called you worse before, much worse and you usually just giggle and act like he's given you a giant compliment. 

"What? No," you scoff and move over to straddle his thighs. "It's you saying weirdly obsessed as if you're not the single hottest person I've ever met. How dare you?"

Seungcheol licks his lips and looks down to watch at what he thought was you making a move to ride his cock like you said you would. But no, you adjust your position at the last second and sit right on his left thigh. 

"You're so fucking wet," he comments, voice thick with arousal and awe. His mouth drops open a little when you drag your slick pussy over his thigh and smear wetness over bare skin. "Fuck," 

"This is what you do to me, Cheolie," you complain and wrap your hand around his cock roughly. He groans and tips his head forward, thunking his forehead on your shoulder as you jerk him in time with the drag of your pussy up and down his thigh while he tenses it to make his muscles bulge and give you something firmer to grind your clit down on. 

It feels better than you could’ve imagined and you’ve fantasised about riding Seungcheol’s beefy thighs more times than you can count.

"You're so fucking shameless," he grunts after a moment of just watching your movements. You're torturing him with the too-rough, slow pull of your palm against his cock, never close enough to the top to catch any of the precum that's starting to dribble down the side. 

"For you, not anyone else," 

"You're going to give me a giant head," 

"It'll match your cock." 

Seungcheol huffs a laugh and lifts his head to look at you. "You gonna sit on it then?" 

"I'd love to, but you didn't actually say you're okay with not using a condom. I know you always do with those women." 

"You're not them," it's perhaps the softest fucking thing Seungcheol has ever said to you. Your movements slow to a stop as you stare at him in surprise. "I trust you with every fucking aspect of the gang, trust you to back me up more than I do anyone else. You think I'd put my life in your hands and not the health of my dick?" He scoffs. "I trust you to not do this if you have anything you could pass on and I know I sure as fuck don't." 

"And what if you knock me up?" Seungcheol raises his eyebrows at you bewilderedly, barely even noticing that you've stopped grinding on his thigh and have moved over to hover over his cock. "What?" 

Seungcheol opens his mouth to respond but you decide to drop down onto his cock, letting his thick length split you open harshly as you both moan at the sudden friction. "Fuck!" He exclaims, head tipped back and eyes screwed shut. "You-you fucking idiot," he lifts his head to look at you. "You didn't even take it slow! You could get fucking hurt!" 

"Good, I like it," you smirk, proud of yourself for getting the usually so put-together man so worked up. There's something beautifully wild in his dark eyes and a pretty pink smeared over his cheeks. 

You really wish you hadn’t left your phone in your trousers, you’d love to take a photo of him right now. You’d put it as your lock screen and he’d probably threaten to beat your ass if you don’t remove it, yet he never follows through with his threats to you.

"You're fucking crazy," 

"Yep." You grin and grind down against him, breath catching as his cock presses against multiple sensitive spots inside you that has you repeating the swirl of your hips again and again and again.

"Fu-fuck, just ride me, shit," he groans, trying to urge you to bounce by thrusting his hips up against you. 

"Don't you like this?" You pout at him, faux-offended and keep at it. You know he likes it. It's clear by the tightness of his expression; the pleasure is clear in his furrowed brows and tense jaw, shoulders pressed back against the seat and biceps bulging as he tries to free himself from the cuffs. 

You really hope he doesn't break them, you really fucking like him like this. Then again, the thought of Seungcheol using his stupidly beefy arms to break free from his binds so that he can grab your hips and force you to take the pummelling of his giant dick against your pussy walls, well that's a real fucking nice thought. 

It makes you clench down on him and he moans, head tipping back and showing you the unblemished expanse of his throat. You wonder if he'd let you bite him. 

"Can I bite you?" You ask, falling still. 

"What the fuck?" He looks at you as if you're insane. Which, not exactly a new expression on the man when he's faced with you. But this time he looks utterly offended too. 

"Is that a no?" You pout.

"I don't give a fuck, just keep going!" He demands, looking crazed. 

"Can I kiss you too?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes and instead of verbally responding he tilts forward to crash his lips to yours, desperation urging him to kiss you in such a filthy way that your pussy throbs. 

"Bounce," he growls against your lips before letting out a string of almost whispered praise when you obey and start to lift and drop yourself, finally riding his cock like both of you have been wanting for admittedly, longer than he's been in cuffs.

To your surprise, Seungcheol keeps kissing you and chases your lips every time you lean back or turn your head for breath, or just because you think he probably wants to stop and focus on your pussy dragging up and down his cock, soaking him with every wet smack of your thighs against his. 

"Che-cheol," you pant out, knotting your fingers in his head to force him back and allow you to actually breathe. He moans deeply and his eyes roll back. Very interesting reaction indeed. 

You never took Seungcheol to like having his hair pulled, but the filthy moans he lets out every time you experimentally tighten or yank on the strands now you've got the idea in your head, tell you that the man really fucking likes it. Not even mentioning how he fucks up into you harder every time too. 

"Good boy," you compliment breathlessly, looking down at his cock sliding into you as you pretty much just hover over him now, more interested in finding out what makes him tick and turns him on than actually riding him. Not that you need to when he's doing a good enough job fucking you even with his arms restrained. 

You just know he'd ruin you if he had full use of his body. He'd ruin you and you'd thank him for it and ask to repeat it every fucking day. He could break your hips and you'd thank him. 

"Oh, fuck I-I'm gonna cum," he warns making your eyes widen in alarm.

"No!" 

Seungcheol opens his eyes to look at you with equally as wide eyes yet doesn't stop fucking into you. "The fuck you mean no?" 

"You can't cum yet! I'm not done!" 

"I'm gonna-" 

"No!" 

"Fuck," his eyes roll back and he lets out a string of porn-worthy moans as he jerks up into you a few times harshly while filling you with cum. 

You can only gawp at him in disbelief, one hand still in his hair and the other braced on his heaving chest. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" You exclaim, slapping his chest as he slouches against the seat while trying to catch his breath back. "You useless man!" You pinch his nipple where it's pressing against his t-shirt making him yelp and shoot his eyes open to look at you.

"What the fuck?" 

"What kind of a gang boss are you, huh?" You berate, climbing off of him and wincing at the feel of his softening cock slipping out of you, trailing cum with it. You don't even care that it's getting all over him and the seats as you move. "To bust in minutes, you that pussy whipped, Choi Seungcheol?" You tut and shove him down on the seats. 

"Ow, you fucking-" he cuts off, awkwardly wriggling to get on his back instead of laying painfully on his right shoulder. "I'm gonna beat your ass as soon as these cuffs are off, bitch," he warns, watching you with dark eyes, half warning, half aroused, as you clamber over his body. 

"Ooh, call me more names, my likey," you wiggle your eyebrows at him as you plant your knees either side of his face. 

It visibly takes everything in Seungcheol to keep his eyes on your face and not look at your pussy that's inches from his face and dripping cum down your slick inner-thighs. "You're clinically fucking insane, aren't you?" 

"I work for you, comes with the job," you coo, leaning over to plant your left hand on the door above his head to get your balance, your right hand knotting into his hair making him let out a groan that travels through your body as your pussy meets his parted lips. "Now, make me cum like a good boy, Cheolie," 

To your utter delight, the words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol's tongue is dragging through your folds, uncaring that he's swallowing down his own cum as he enthusiastically starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Honestly, you've never seen Seungcheol do this. You've never known if he's the type of man to eat pussy and if so, if he does it as a means to get his dick wet or because he actually enjoys it. But now? Now you fucking know. 

Seungcheol is making more noise than you are as he greedily laps and sucks at your pussy, alternating between thrusting his tongue into your hole and suckling on your clit. You swear, the man is determined to suck your soul out through your clit, he's not gentle about it at all but you can't lie, you really fucking enjoy the rough, messy actions.

"T-that's it," you encourage when his tongue is back inside of you as deep as he can get it to lick at your inner walls greedily, nose grinding against your clit with every movement of his head and his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

His face is buried so deep between your thighs that you're positive he can't breathe but even when you loosen your hold on his hair and stop moving your hips against his face to let him have space, he dives in even deeper somehow. 

The pure unfiltered enthusiasm he devours your pussy with sends you hurtling to a powerful orgasm that takes you a bit by surprise when he gets a little too into it and his teeth drag over your skin. You didn't know you like that, but now you certainly do as you shudder and gasp over him, fingers tightening in his hair and letting the vibration of his groans and moans help ride you through as you smother him in your pussy. 

Your legs feel like jelly when you shakily clamber off of his face and drop to sit on his still exposed thighs. His cock is making a valiant effort to get hard again. It's very distracting but you're both breathing too hard and trying to remember how to get air into your lungs to even consider going for round two. Well, mostly. 

"Please tell me you have a key for these," Seungcheol says once he's caught his breath a few minutes later, still laid back with his eyes closed. 

"No," you snigger at the pissed off look he gives you as he lifts his head enough to look at you. "Since when have I needed keys to open locks?" 

"Good point," he drops back down, though immediately lifts his head again when you dance your fingers teasingly over his semi-erect dick. "Don't." 

"Why not?" You pout and wrap your hand around his cock, thumbing at the head a little harshly but he clearly likes it judging by the way he gets harder in your hold and hisses, hips pushing up automatically to encourage you.

"Because I'll fucking dislocate my shoulders," he points out, trying to roll his shoulders but not really doing a good job thanks to his forced position. "And I can't hold you down and fuck you if my arms don't fucking work, can I?" 

"You actually want to do that?" 

"Always have," he shrugs and slumps in relief when you let go of him and shuffle back. 

"No, you've never wanted to fuck me." You frown confusedly at him as he sits up with a few little grunts from the effort and release of pressure against his arms from being laid on them. 

"I've always wanted to fuck your insane ass, which I guess makes me insane too. I know you're into some fucked up shit, I've seen the porn you watch." 

"Don't kinkshame me," 

"Don't fucking use my computer to watch porn then!" 

"But your office chair is big enough that I can spread my legs comfortably on to touch myself." 

"You've masturbated in my office chair?" He deadpans, looking unimpressed. Yet when you nod in confirmation, you notice the flicker of arousal in his gaze. "Great, now I'm going to be thinking about that when I'm supposed to be working." 

"You can always call me and I'll happily sit under your desk with your cock in my mouth, keep it warm and ready to sit on when you're done working." 

"This is why I never fucking let you know." He shuffles towards the still open door, making you back out until you're standing on still slightly trembling legs. "Knew I'd never be able to stop once I had you." Seungcheol gets out of the car and turns his back to you. "Get these off me so I can bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk." 

"Don't need to tell me twice," you quickly grab your lock-picking set from your trouser pocket before kneeling down behind Seungcheol to unpick the cuffs. 

It takes you longer than it should to pick the lock because you're very distracted by his bare, plump ass right in front of your face. As soon as he moves his hands to roll his shoulders and rub his red-raw wrists, you lean forward and bite his asscheek.

"What the fuck?!" He shrieks, jolting away and turning to face you with wide eyes and red cheeks. "Did you just bite my ass?" 

"Yes," your confirmation is utterly shameless as you stare up at him from still on your knees. 

Seungcheol stares back at you for a moment, before sliding his hand into your hair and tugging you forward, smirking as your mouth opens wide to accept his cock without question or complaint. 

"Good girl," he breathes out as you immediately start to suck and lick at him, humming and making appreciative noises at having his cock in your mouth finally. It's only taken five years.

Though Seungcheol doesn't let you enjoy him as thoroughly as you'd like. As soon as his tip touches your throat at your attempt to start deepthroating him, he pulls you off and yanks you up. 

You're not given time to even complain or whine, or beg for his cock back, before he's got you with your hands on the roof of the car and chest bowing into the open doorway so that he can grind his cock against your still sopping wet pussy. 

"You never explained the knocked up comment," he informs as he crowds up against your back, one big hand holding your wrists by the edge of the roof and the other gripping your hip tight. 

"What?" 

"You said about me getting you knocked up." 

"And?" 

"We both got done, on the same fucking day, remember? We’re medically infertile," He nips at your earlobe on the harder side and grins smugly when your breath catches and you press back against his cock. 

"Never heard of a breeding kink, Cheolie?" 

"Huh, you're into that?" 

"I'm into anything if it's you." 

He pauses his movements, lips parted against your ear for a few seconds before he suddenly lets go of your hip and pulls his own back to grab his cock and lead it to your entrance. He feeds it into you just far enough that he can let go and take your hip back into his hold before he thrusts forward, burying his cock into you in one quick, hard thrust. It jolts you forward and makes you moan loudly.

"Gonna fill you up every fucking day, baby," he promises, sounding far more affected than he did moments ago. "Gonna fill you with my cum until it sticks. Gonna breed you so fucking good, yeah?" 

"Fuck, yeah, yeah, fuck me full, Cheolie," you agree, nodding madly and arching your back to push back against him while widening your stance to get him deeper, even if it means you have to push up onto your tiptoes to account for the height difference. 

"That's my good fucking girl," he approves, pushing your shirt up and holding it at your waist to give him full view of your ass as he begins to fuck into you harshly. 

Honestly, you have no idea if you're truly alone in the warehouse, you know that various gang members use the warehouses for meets and their own trysts but you do not give a single flying fuck. 

You moan loud and shameless as Seungcheol fucks all thoughts from your head. He clearly doesn't care if anyone hears either, he moans and grunts without care, growling dirty words at you that you can barely babble a response at with the quickly growing pleasure in your body. 

“Never letting anyone touch this pussy again,” he declares in amongst his moans and panting, not slowing down once in his determination to ruin you. “You’re mine, understand?” 

You nod rapidly but can’t answer as that ball of pleasure in your belly clenches so tightly at his possessive words. As soon as his palm comes down on your ass with the intention of prompting you to verbally respond, that ball bursts; sending pleasure through your whole body and making your consistent moans turn higher in pitch, babbling his name repeatedly as your pussy convulses around his still-pistoning cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fucking into you a few more times before he slows to a gradual stop. You can feel that he’s still hard within you and whine a little, pushing your hips back against him to try and get him back to work. “You’re shaking,” he points out, pulling out and carefully helping you down onto flat feet, taking some pressure off of your thighs. You melt back against him when he winds his arms around your waist supportively and kisses your head. 

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes as you catch your breath back and your body stops shaking like a fucking leaf. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, lips trailing over your cheek and temple. It’s much too tender. You like it, yeah, but you hadn’t been prepared for the care he’s giving you. 

He has always cussed at you and called you names with disturbed expressions. You’ve never cared about that, the names and harsh words have truly never bothered you and amused you more than anything. Seungcheol has never actually hurt you even when he’s slapped you away from him or thrown items at you, he has always purposely near-missed you. His aim is too good to unintentionally miss you all the time.

But this, the fingers trailing over you mindlessly, the lips brushing against your skin and the words spoken in a fond voice you’ve never fucking heard the man use, well that’s a lot to take in.

“No,” you reply.

“Oh, what can I do? Did I hurt-” 

“You can go back to fucking me,” 

“You’re still shaking,” 

“That’s because you were doing a good job! Gold star Seungcheol!” 

“What happened to Cheolie?” 

“You don’t even fucking like it!” You groan and wriggle out of his arms with every intention of pushing him away and getting your clothes back on but he pulls you right back in, chest to chest and looks at you so devastatingly fucking adoringly your breath catches in your throat in a giant ball of what the fuck Choi Seungcheol.

“I like it,” he murmurs. “I like it because it’s you. I just…couldn’t let you know that.” 

“And now you can? You fucked me and now suddenly everything changes?” 

“You wanted things to be the same?” He frowns, hurt trickling onto his expression as his arms fall away from you. 

“I thought it was just sex,” you admit.

“Right,” he scoffs, yanking his boxers and jeans up as he steps away from you, dick sadly deflated despite being hard and pressed against your ass a minute ago. “See this is why I never fucking wanted this!” He exclaims, turning angry now as he reaches down to grab your panties and trousers to toss at you harshly. You wince when the police-issue gun and holster smack into your ribs. 

Seungcheol pauses for a split second noticing that he hurt you but then he carries on, throwing your boots at you next. You don’t even bother trying to catch them and let them collide painfully with your thighs then topple down, the hard edges of the soles sending pain through the tops of your feet.

“Why are you just fucking standing there?!” He snaps, stalking over to yank the items from your hands and get to his knees to roughly force your feet into the trousers and panties at once. 

“Seungcheol-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. For the first time, you listen to him.

A few minutes later, you’re in the passenger seat of the car as Seungcheol drives recklessly through the back streets. You don’t even have it in you to tell him to slow down because you both would get arrested and you don’t think even his lawyers could talk him out of getting locked up for driving a fake police car with fake licence plates and over the speed limits without either of you wearing seat belts.

He drives to a side street behind his apartment building and doesn’t even put the car in park, just stops it and gets out, slamming the door behind him before storming off. You take it for the harsh dismissal it is and climb over the centre console to get into the drivers’ seat to head off.

For the first time in years, you don’t see Seungcheol for days. You don’t think it’s wise to test him right now. You still don’t think he’d hurt you, but you think your presence would hurt him and you don’t want that. 

Despite what Seungcheol obviously thinks, and with good reason too because you didn’t say anything otherwise, you do care about the man. A hell of a fucking lot. 

It wasn’t instant, there wasn’t a moment where your eyes locked across the table on that set-up blind-date between you that was really both of your little groups of criminals and deviants trying to get information on the other group. You had both clocked each other and although it could’ve gone badly, Seungcheol had asked you to team up on a job and the gang was born shortly after.

Your connection was about work from day one, but spending time with the man even when he told you to fuck off when you would jokingly hit on him, it kind of really gave you a giant fucking weak spot in the shape of his stupid, charming face. 

The relentless flirting and sexual remarks, although they are all genuine, became your way to hide the truth of your feelings. Lean into lust to hide the love. It just seems that it worked too fucking well. 

You had honestly forgotten that the flutter in your stomach when your eyes meet Seungcheol’s isn’t all lust; that it isn’t just horny little demons running rampant and trying to tell you to get his cock in you, but butterflies too. Excited, pretty little butterflies flapping their wings and trying to lift you up into the clouds to where you and Seungcheol can skip merrily through the meadows together hand in hand like that scene in Shrek before the villagers chased the ogres down with pitchforks. 

But that isn’t realistic. You can’t skip hand in hand through a meadow, mostly because Seungcheol has damaged his knees from throwing himself around too much to skip anywhere, though it would be funny to watch his hobbling attempt. 

Well, at least up until a few days ago you thought it wasn’t realistic. You didn’t think Seungcheol had anything but a respect for you as one of his gang members and a good fucking one too. He often turns to you to get shit done when others have failed or if it’s too risky, too important to send others in, you’re the one he goes to. You thought that’s all your relationship equates to.

But apparently, you haven’t paid enough attention to Seungcheol to have missed the man apparently having some kind of feelings for you. 

You’re not going to assume he’s in love with you, it’s now obvious to you that he holds some kind of candle for you, but you’re not naive or hopeless enough to assume his tender touches that turned to hurt anger, to be love.

Choi Seungcheol likes you. Romantically. Sexually too. That part was great, top marks. Gold star indeed. If that’s all it had been, you’re pretty sure you’d have been spread over his desk every day since or tucked under it like you offered to cockwarm him with your mouth. That would’ve been great.

But nope, feelings. And not the touching each other up kind of ones.

All in all, it’s a giant fucking shitshow and not in the way you purposely orchestrate for your own twisted amusement. You hope things will fix themselves shortly because you don’t know how much more of this you can handle. But honestly, you really don’t think they will.

“So,” Minghao starts as he invites himself to join you in the car you’ve borrowed for the fun of it. You look at him with noodles hanging out of your mouth and wide eyes. “What the fuck did you do to piss Seungcheol off so much?” 

“Me?” You garble around your food still hanging out of your mouth and pointing at your own chest. The look the man gives you is utterly disgusted and it makes you snigger before you actually chew and swallow your food. “Why do you assume I did something to piss him off?” 

“Maybe the fact you haven’t been around in a week and every time I’ve suggested he asks for your help like we need, he pretends to have never heard of you while breaking yet another fucking pen in his fist.”

“Sounds like you need to stop getting cheap pens,” you mutter, reaching for your drink in the cup holder but he takes it. 

You watch as Minghao noisily slurps up the liquid through the straw, defiantly holding eye contact with you. But then he gags and quickly puts the cup in your awaiting hand so that he can turn, open the car door and spit the drink out onto the parking lot of the restaurant you’re parked in to enjoy your lunch. 

“What the fuck is in that?!” He shrieks when he’s done sputtering, turning to look at you with wide eyes behind his wire-framed glasses. 

“Coke,”

“That is not coke,” 

“Both kinds, and mint schnapps,” 

“I fucking hate you.” 

“Valid.” You nod and slurp at your unholy concoction. 

It wasn’t even your choice, you accidentally dropped a badly sealed baggie of the white powder into your cup when you tipped the contents of the hip flask from the glovebox into the cup. You had assumed it was whiskey or vodka or something normal, not fucking mint schnapps of all things. That’s what you get for tipping out the contents of a stolen hip flask from a stolen car into your drink without at least giving it a cursory sniff-test first. 

Minghao watches you with something like fear on his features as you don’t even flinch at the truly disgusting flavour that coats your tongue. You’ve had worse things in your mouth, you can say that much. 

Mostly thanks to Soonyoung’s own habit of shoving any food and drink into his mouth to consume like some kind of tastebud-less heathen. There’s probably a reason you’ve been friends for so long. One that doesn’t involve a bloodpact you made as idiot children that you’re both too stubborn to turn your back on first.

“So, what did you do? Ask to put something questionable in his ass?” Minghao soldiers on as he steals the unopened chocolate bar from the dashboard to open and bite into, looking very relieved at having the haunting taste of your drink covered by the sweet on his tongue. “Ask him to put something questionable in your ass?” 

“No,” you scoff, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Minghao pauses in his rapid chewing to watch you consideringly. He’s never seen you like this, like you have actual human emotions beside lust and maniacal joy at making others suffer in various ways borne of your chaotic ideas. 

“It’s serious,” he realises in a mutter. You shrug and give up with your lunch, suddenly not hungry for it and pass it over to him so that you can start the car up. “What happened?” 

“What’s the job?” You ask as you drive out of the lot in a way that closes the car door he hadn’t fully closed. The slam of the door makes Minghao jolt, he had forgotten it was even open and rolls his eyes a little at you not asking him to shut it before driving off. 

“He’s dealing with it,” 

“That’s stupid if you think I should be doing it.” 

“Yeah, well, according to him, you don’t exist so he’s the best chance.” 

“If you wanted to send me in, that means it requires a delicate touch-” 

“You set a warehouse on fire last month, that’s not a delicate touch.” 

“That wasn’t for a job, that was for fun, leave me alone.” 

“You…whatever. He can handle the job, it’s just a different direction than you’d take.” 

“Has he gone in fists swinging?” 

“No. He’s seducing someone for information.” 

“Ah, dick swinging,” you mutter, feeling a sourness in your chest and rising up your throat. You’ve not felt this before when you’ve heard of Seungcheol seducing someone to get the job done. 

You haven’t even felt it when you’ve literally walked in on him balls-deep in some woman over his desk; you would just stand there until he noticed you, then annoy him by dragging out whatever it was you turned up for. It was all fun and games. This burning tickling your throat isn’t.

Jealousy is not something you’re familiar with and you immediately decide you hate it.

“You know he doesn’t…” he trails off, expression twisting as he recalls something based on his expression. “Well, usually he doesn’t fuck his marks but-” 

“What?!” You exclaim, slamming on the breaks and looking at Minghao with crazed eyes. 

Minghao yells which only grows when a car audibly swerves behind you to not rear-end you. “Fucking drive you idiot!” 

“He’s fucked the mark?” You ask, voice eerily level in a way that makes Minghao look at you and swallow thickly. 

For the first time, Minghao is genuinely scared of you. He knows you are an unhinged, unrelenting mess at the best of times and in a way, you do always scare him because he never knows what you’re going to do. You could easily hurt him or anyone but you haven’t, you’re usually too busy making sexual remarks to Seungcheol, or someone about Seungcheol, loudly enough that the man himself can clearly hear. 

And Minghao knows you’re a competent fighter, he’s seen proof of it but he’s never seen you fight yourself. He’s never seen you look so serious and pissed before either.

The carnage he’s seen the after effects of, the destruction you’ve caused, yet you’ve always had a grin on your face afterwards as if you’ve just been to an amusement park and had the time of your life splattered with blood. He knows how much damage you can cause in a good mood. So Minghao is genuinely terrified of what hell you can create when you’re in a foul mood, and right now? He thinks you would burn the world down and anyone who gets in your way.

“He-he hasn’t but he said he will if he needs to.” 

“Where is he?” 

The apartment you let yourself into is familiar and really not where you expected to end up when Minghao had given you his phone to let you use the app he and Seungcheol use to track each other. You hadn’t known about this app and you can only assume Seungcheol had made sure you didn’t know so that you couldn’t use it to stalk him. Which…valid worry. You definitely would’ve stalked him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand as you step into the living room and find Seungcheol slouched on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other and balanced on his thick thigh. 

“This is my home,” he points out. “The fuck are you doing here?” 

“Where is she?” You ask, peering around before inviting yourself to walk through the apartment, slamming open doors to rooms as you go in search of the woman Seungcheol was seducing for information. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He retorts, following after you once he’s put the glass and bottle down on the coffee table. “Who?” 

“The mark, Hao said you were planning to fuck her for information.” 

“And you thought I’d bring her here?” 

“Well how the fuck should I know?!” You turn to face him. “You don’t fuck your marks, Seungcheol! But you were going to, or have…” You eye him over, black shirt unbuttoned to his chest tucked into black trousers that show off his thick thighs and plump ass. Trousers you’ve told him you hold he never stops wearing, and then he promptly did stop to your disappointment. At least you thought he had. 

“I didn’t,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets after they twitch at his sides.

“No?” You lift your gaze up to meet his eyes, or at least try to but he’s pointedly looking at the wall beside your left shoulder. “Did you get what you needed without fucking her?” 

“No,” he admits and tenses his jaw a few times.

“Then what?” 

“I don’t want to fuck her! I thought I could do it but I can’t.” He huffs and turns to storm back to the living room. Of course, you follow and watch as he downs the contents of his glass before pouring out more. 

“Why did you suddenly think you could when you’ve never wanted to fuck for a job? You said that to me before, that you don’t ever want to fuck for work.” 

“Because…it doesn’t fucking matter,”

“Obviously it does.” You walk over and take the glass from him after he’s swallowed down the contents again. “This isn’t you, Seungcheol. I’m the one who drinks at 1pm, not you.” 

“Well maybe I should be allowed to be the fucked up asshole for once, huh?” He stares down at you darkly. “Why are you allowed to be a fuck up and I can’t?” 

“Because you’re better than me, you always have been.” You pick up the bottle and turn to take it to the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises as he follows you. “I don’t mean that, you’re not a fuck up.” 

“I am, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it, Seungcheol so-” 

“Please stop calling me that,” he breathes out. 

You finish putting the lid on the bottle and put it in the liquor cabinet before putting the dirty glass in the dishwasher, and then you turn to look at him while leaning back against the counter behind you with your arms crossed loosely over your chest. 

He looks…sad. You hate it.

“That’s your name, that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what you’ve been trying to get me to call you for years.” 

“And you never fucking listened. Can’t…can’t we go back to that?” 

“I don’t know, can we?” 

Seungcheol does nothing but look at you for what feels like more than enough time for him to come to a definite answer hours ago. But he just keeps looking at you with those giant sad fucking eyes and his fingers gripping the edge of the island counter in front of him as if he needs to hold on to something and what he wants to hold isn’t in reach. 

“I can try,” he offers. “Can you?” 

“I’m not the one who has been denying the other’s existence,” 

“You’re not the one who got their heart broken,” he retorts sharply before taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes. A clear sign of trying to calm himself. “No, I can’t, I can’t do this,” he decides, opening his eyes to land them back on you. “You need to leave.” 

“For how long?” 

“This is my apartment-” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you uncross your arms and walk the few steps to the island in front of you, on Seungcheol’s adjacent right and close enough that either of you could easily reach out and touch. Neither of you do. “I’ll leave your apartment, I won’t argue about leaving now. But I need to know if this is the end of everything, Seungcheol. The past five years of working together, does it end now?” 

“Is that all you care about? The fucking gang? Not our relationship? But the fucking gang?” 

“That is our relationship,” you give him a bewildered look. “Before last week there’s never been anything but the gang.” 

“You’re serious,” he mutters in disbelief. 

“Well, yeah,”

“Get out.” 

“That doesn’t answer-” 

“Are you seriously that fucking stupid?!” He snaps, poking his own head. “You got nothing going on up here past work, huh?” 

You just stare at him, not sure how to respond because admittedly, the things he’s been saying to you today have been hurting. Five years of insults and degrading names hasn’t once bothered you. But he’s never said hurtful things like this before.

“How Soonyoung has put up with you for so fucking long is beyond me.” He scoffs and steps back, away from you with a nasty expression on his face, eyes dark and cold in a way he has never looked at you. “He must be as fucking stupid as you.” 

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” you warn, your own expression turning hard in defence of your best friend. “Say whatever you want about me but do not say a bad word against him.” 

“Why not? Hurt your feelings?” He taunts. “Didn’t know you have those. Sure fucking fooled me.” 

“Of course I have feelings, you dick, some of us just know how to keep them to ourselves and not let them rule our mouths.” 

“Well you’ve kept yours really fucking close, great fucking job there. Gold fucking star. You’ve kept to yourself so much nobody knows shit about how you feel. I thought I did but obviously I was fucking wrong.” He turns to walk off yet turns back around and stalks right back to lean his palms on the counter and stare intently at you. “Just tell me this, did I ever mean fucking anything to you? Did you ever even think of me as a friend? I thought you did but you’ve dismissed this so fucking easily, you’re so fucking willing to walk away and only ask about the gang that I’m pretty sure I’ve been a naive fucking idiot this whole time.” 

“Friends?” You mumble in surprise because honestly, you’ve never thought of Seungcheol as your friend. You’ve never tried to name what he is to you but you’re not sure you could if you tried. 

Soonyoung is your friend, even Minghao you’d consider a friend. But Seungcheol? Perhaps at one point you could’ve thought of him in such a way but now you’ve been pushing down your true feelings for him for so long that you don’t even know how to classify him. Friend doesn’t feel right. 

“Yes, friends, you know, people you like being around, people you can talk to about stuff other than work, get a drink with and have fun with.” 

“Have we ever done any of that?” You genuinely wonder quietly. 

You watch as the realisation dawns on Seungcheol and his anger melts into something pained. “No,” he admits quietly. “We haven’t.”

“Well, I guess there’s the answer,” you mumble, chest aching at what you know this means. That you and Seungcheol have never truly had a relationship of any kind outside of work. You’ve never realised that before, never before had to consider what that means. You wish you had, maybe then things now would be different.

“Right,” he huffs a humourless laugh as he backs up, eyes looking anywhere but you even as he turns. “Show yourself out and don’t…don’t come back.” 

You can’t be certain, he talks too quietly and moves out of the kitchen and down the hall too quickly, but you think you catch the glint of tears on his cheeks.

Weeks pass as you go about your life, as you try to make a new life without Seungcheol or his gang playing such a pivotal part in it. You listened to his wishes, you left and didn’t return, you deleted his number and told Minghao it’s probably wise if he tells everyone that you’ve left the gang and won’t return; and then you deleted and blocked all of their numbers too once they started calling and texting to ask what the fuck happened.

Soonyoung didn’t know what happened at first, but he loyally left the gang too and then you both decided to just get new numbers to avoid the hassle of blocking everyone you’ve ever known in relation to the gang.

And then they started to turn up at your apartments so you packed up and left the city and Soonyoung still didn’t ask what happened. 

Of course, you did tell him though. You told him everything that happened with you and Seungcheol and had to talk Soonyoung down from driving back to the city to try and beat up Seungcheol for the things he said to you in his apartment. 

Try being the keyword, because although Soonyoung is more than a competent fighter and plenty strong enough, one of Seungcheol’s biceps is likely bigger than Soonyoung’s head. 

But Soonyoung did calm enough to slap you around the head and call you an idiot for not telling Seungcheol the truth about your feelings when the man was clearly trying to start a relationship with you after fucking you dumb. You argue that the man had just fucked you dumb so your brain wasn’t working. Soonyoung said your brain doesn’t work full stop. Which…is kind of valid, at least where human relationships are involved.

And that leads us to your new life with your best friend in another town a two hour drive from the city and where Soonyoung has already made friends with a man who it took Soonyoung a worryingly long time to realise is a hooker. 

You quite like his new friend and like to play bodyguard with Soonyoung when Junhui dresses up in expensive clothes to bag expensive clients his pimp sends him to meet. Junhui loves it too; having the two of you dressed up in suits and following behind him to keep him safe. He doesn’t even mind that you both stay at the edge of the room when he gets to work.

“This guy is a friend of Jeonghan’s,” Junhui explains from the backseat of the fancy car you can proudly say you didn’t even steal. Soonyoung stole it. You’re so proud of him. 

“Which is why daddy Hannie is joining,” Soonyoung hums in understanding, nodding his head and almost hitting a lamppost before swerving at the last second after peering over the top of his dark sunglasses. 

“Remove the fucking glasses, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan, Junhui’s pimp, sighs from Junhui’s right with both hands gripping the leather seats under him. Which is very understandable. “And please stop lying to me that you have your driver’s licence.”

“Told you it’s obvious,” you mutter to your best friend who slaps your tit as he childishly mocks you. So you backhand him in the dick making him groan and double over, one hand over his crotch and his other arm hugging the steering wheel he’s leaning his chest against while biting the top of it in pain. 

Junhui sniggers at the antics between you and your best friend, as amused as he ever is by you two. While Jeonghan, not for the first time, wonders what kind of circus Junhui found the pair of you in and if they’d take you back.

“So, what’s the deal with this dude?” You ask a few minutes later when Soonyoung parks over three spaces in the hotel parking lot and Junhui cheers at Soonyoung remembering to apply the breaks in time for once. 

“He’s an old friend in town for business and wants to sweeten the guy he’s meeting tonight, so he asked me to bring my best.” Jeonghan replies while checking he has everything in his pockets by patting his clothing down thoroughly. 

“Aw, Junnie, you’re daddy’s best,” Soonyoung coos, grinning over at Junhui who preens proudly. 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me daddy, Soonyoung. I said that to her, not you.” The pimp points out as you all get out of the car. 

“What’s hers is mine and mine is hers,” your best friend replies airily. 

“You’re married?” 

“What? Ew, gross, no,” Soonyoung retches and then stumbles when you shove him. He collides with the wall of the hotel making you snort a laugh, until he turns and you notice his glasses are broken and can see his unimpressed glare through the missing section of the lens. “I just got these!” He exclaims, taking off the sunglasses and tosses them into the bushes. 

“I’ll get you another pair,” 

“Better do. I want Gucci ones,” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” 

When Jeonghan looks over at the pair of you in the elevator up to the penthouse suite, he has to do a double take at the Gucci sunglasses perched on Soonyoung’s nose. “Where did you get those?” Soonyoung points at you. Jeonghan gives you a flat look. “Well?” 

“They were just sitting there,” you shrug. 

“Where?” 

You stare back at Jeonghan, making your expression innocent knowing how much Jeonghan hates it when you pickpocket people for the fun of it. “Some guy’s head,” 

“You stole sunglasses while someone was wearing them?” 

“It was really impressive,” Soonyoung nods, entirely missing the point of Jeonghan’s gawping. “Jun’s really good at distracting, they make a good team.” 

“You fucking helped?” Jeonghan gawps at Junhui who just smiles sweetly at his pimp. “I’m banning you from hanging out with them.” 

“You’re my daddy not my father,” Junhui scoffs. 

Jeonghan clearly wants to argue more but the ding echoes in the metal box signalling you’ve arrived at the suite, so he just takes a breath and schools his expression in an impressively short time while the doors open. 

Then you four step out into the little lobby before the suite entrance doors and you swear, recognising the suited men standing guard outside of the suite. 

“Oh, fuck,” Soonyoung whispers. 

“You assholes!” One of the men exclaims, stalking over to flying-kick Soonyoung in the back of his thigh. “You fucking ghosted us!” 

“Ow, ow, Kwan, stop it!” Soonyoung cries out, trying to stop Seungkwan’s furious kicks and slaps. “I need my legs to protect my slut!” 

“Hey!” Junhui exclaims and slaps Soonyoung too. “I am not yours.” 

“Ow, attack her!” Soonyoung tries to shove Seungkwan over to you but he takes one look at you and shrinks back before going back to hitting Soonyoung while hissing that you scare him too much to try to hit. 

“Were you part of the gang?” Jeonghan asks, looking at you. 

“You could say that,” you murmur and look over to the grand double doors then back to him. “You’re meeting Seungcheol?” 

“Yes,” 

“We shouldn’t be there, me especially.” 

“Do you owe him money?” 

“No, nothing like that we just…aren’t on good terms, I guess you could say.” 

“Yeah, what happened anyway?” Seungkwan wonders, suddenly at your side and linking his arm with yours. “What’s the gossip?” 

“I assume you enjoy having the use of your hands,” you speak, raising an eyebrow at Seungkwan who backs away with his hands held up in surrender. “Good boy.” 

“How much issue would it cause to take you in there?” Jeonghan asks, looking between you, Soonyoung, Junhui and his watch then the doors and back again.

“Oh, a shit ton,” Soonyoung answers with a hum. “We moved two hours away for a reason,” he face falls and he looks at you with a sad pout. “Do we have to move again now that they know where we live?” 

“No!” Junhui whines, wrapping his arms around you. “You have to stay. You’re my bodyguards! I feel so much safer with you watching over me and I like having you watch too!” 

“You can discuss this later, we need to meet Seungcheol before he gets sulky at us for being late,” Jeonghan sighs, tugging Junhui to his side. “You two wait out here. I’ll have to discuss this with Seungcheol to see if he will be against you doing what I fucking pay you for.” 

“You pay us?” Soonyoung mutters confusedly while you just nod at Jeonghan in agreement so he and Junhui go into the room. “He pays us?” 

It all goes a lot better than you expect. You don’t even need to be in the same room as Seungcheol and, in fact, you don’t even see him until 3 am the next morning when you’re pulling him off of the man he was supposed to be making a business contract with but apparently, Seungcheol found it necessary to beat the shit out of him in the hotel lobby.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask once you’ve got Seungcheol outside and around the side of the building. He’s seething, blood smeared over his hands and splattered on his face. “You were supposed to be making an ally and I thought it was going well! What the fuck happened?!” 

“You! It’s always fucking you!” Seungcheol turns to you and puts a hand on your upper chest to roughly pin you against the wall. You let him. “It was going well until he fucking- why are you even here? You’re not a bodyguard!” 

“Yes I am,” you frown. “I’m here to keep Junhui safe and I’m good at it.” 

“Not in the eyes of assholes like that. You’re just more eye candy bastards like him think they can have. “

“Is that why you beat the shit out of him and ruined the past hours of work? Because he said some remarks about me?” You scoff. “I can handle that, Seungcheol, I-” You cut off when his hand is suddenly at your throat. He’s not squeezing or applying any pressure but it’s a solid warning that he could. 

You should probably be scared, but you’re not, even if the man looks utterly psychotic with blood smeared over him and wide eyes staring down at you. It’s probably really fucked up how hot you find it. 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, crowding you further against the wall, getting so close that his thick thigh slots between yours and his left forearm leans on the wall above your head. “What’s my name?” You raise your eyebrow. “Well?” 

“Seungcheol,” your defiant response has his fingers curling around your throat and starting to cut off your air flow. It just makes your excitement grow and show in the sparkle of your eyes. 

“Try that again,” he warns in a murmur, moving even closer and pressing his thigh up against your crotch. “Go on,” 

“Seungcheol,” 

“Bitch,” and then he’s kissing you with the same desperation he first kissed you. His hold is firm around your throat and his thigh is already rubbing against you in a way that has you grinding down while gripping his waist in one hand and hip in the other over those fucking trousers that drive you insane. Well, more insane than you already are where Choi Seungcheol is involved.

“Uh,” of course, of fucking course it’s Soonyoung who interrupts you, making you both look at him with matching pissed off expressions. “We should go, that dude is getting taken to the hospital and the hotel is willing to look the other way thanks to Hannie, provided we all leave and you never show your face again here. Hannie and Jun have already gone.” 

“She’s coming with me,” Seungcheol informs. “You go.” 

“Can’t. Daddy’s banned me from driving,” 

“Then fucking walk, Soonyoung.”

“We live so far away,” Soonyoung whines. 

“I’m going to break his face if he doesn’t leave right fucking now,” Seungcheol warns as he looks at you. 

“Just drive, daddy’s gone,” you point out with a shrug. 

“Good point.” Soonyoung nods then turns and walks off just like that without another word or complaint. 

You hope he won’t crash on the way home or forget that he’s driving a stolen car meaning that he shouldn’t take it to your shared apartment. But you can never be too sure with Soonyoung. Oh well, he already knows you won’t visit him in jail, just like he wouldn’t you. Your bloodpact never said anything about prison after all. 

“This is stupid,” Minghao mutters, glancing over to where Seungcheol has a possessive arm around you in the lift of the hotel they’re staying in for the night, a much less fancy one than the meeting happened in. “You told her to leave and now you’ve fucking glued yourself to her and lost a lucrative deal to defend her honour or some bullshit.” 

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Seungcheol retorts, giving Minghao a look that his right hand just rolls his eyes at.

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to walk on eggshells around you anymore. You’re hurting yourself here and you know it.” 

“I’m the one who’s going to get choked,” you point out earning a disgusted look from Minghao. “What? I know you’re into choking, don’t look at me like that.” 

“How do you know what he’s into?” Seungcheol asks, looking between you. 

“How do you not know?” You scoff, looking at Seungcheol as if he’s the weird one. 

“Because I’ve never had sex with him,” 

“Neither have I.”

“Or watched him have sex,” 

“I haven’t…okay once or twice…maybe thrice…” Your expression twists thoughtfully as you try to recall every instance where you’ve watched Minghao have sex, intentionally or not. 

“What the fuck?!” Seungcheol glares at Minghao who holds up his hands placatingly.

“She’s a voyeur and I’m an exhibitionist, it just made sense when it happened. She usually walked in anyway. You know she has no sense of personal boundaries and invites herself wherever the fuck she wants to go.” 

“You should’ve stopped!” 

“You never did,” you point out and push away from the wall when the doors open and let the three of you enter the corridor. “You never stopped when I walked in on you.” 

“That’s different.” 

“How? Sex is sex.” 

“Right.” 

“And I’m leaving, quickly,” Minghao informs and all but runs down the hallway ahead of you two to get to his room. 

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything until you’re both in his hotel room en suite and he’s leaning back against the sink counter while you clean his split knuckles for him. “Is sex really just sex to you?” 

“What else would it be?” 

“It means nothing?” 

“Is it supposed to?” You raise an eyebrow at him when you lift your head to meet his gaze. He’s got that sad puppy look again that twists your heart painfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like…” you sigh and focus back on his hand. “Why did you kiss me, Seungcheol?” 

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want you to leave.” 

“And that means choking and kissing me?” 

“That’s what you want from me, right? Sex? Just meaningless fucking.” 

“No,” 

“Oh.” You don’t need to be looking at Seungcheol to know his expression has fallen further into depths that would drag painful claws across your pitiful little heart if you witness it. “You don’t want me anymore?” 

“I didn’t say that,” 

“Then what are you saying? I don’t know how to fucking read you, you know? I need you to talk to me. Every time I try to have an honest fucking conversation with you about this you just stare at me and break my heart without even saying a word, at least have the fucking balls to do it verbally this time.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, it hurts me too, seeing you with that fucking kicked puppy dog look.” You give up cleaning his hand and toss the blood stained cloth into the sink to step back with your hands on your hips. “And I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. I’m fucking…emotionally incompetent!” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know, that’s what Soonyoung called me when I explained all this to him.” 

“Emotionally incompetent?” You nod. “Why did he call you that? I mean, he’s probably right but he’s usually the first to defend you, so for him to call you that means you fucked up.” 

“I hurt you, of course I fucked up.” 

“Not returning my feelings doesn’t mean-” 

“Cheol,” he immediately cuts off, eyes rounding out at the nickname you haven’t called him in so long. Granted, you haven’t seen him to call him anything in so long but the point still stands. “When did I actually say I don’t have feelings for you?” 

“You said we’re not even friends.” 

“We’re not, we might’ve been at one point years ago but…I can’t think of you like that. You…” you sigh and drop your arms to your sides. “You mean too much to me. I don’t know how to put any of it into words and I was too shocked that day at the warehouse to say anything. And then you got pissed off and threw shit at me and I just didn’t know how to navigate that. It was a lot.” 

“You didn’t even show your face after,” he pretty much whispers, hands gripping the counter either side of his hips to try and ground himself. It reminds you of the day in his kitchen, the last day you saw him, when he was holding the island so tightly to stop himself from reaching for you. “You could’ve come to me and explained and then we could’ve…things would be different.” 

“I thought giving you space would be best. I didn’t want to make you worse. I thought that space would help but Hao found me and said you were denying my fucking existance and planning to fuck a mark and obviously you weren’t any better with the space.” 

“I was a fucking wreck. I can’t do this, I can’t not have you there turning up to make remarks about my thighs or ass or whatever. I need you there by my side so come back, please.” 

“Just like that? I come back and things go back to how they were?” 

“No. You come back and we figure out what works for us.” 

“Sex works great, that was good.”

He chuckles and nods a little in agreement. “It was and I’d really fucking love to do that more, I’m sure you’ve probably got an endless list of fucked up shit you want to do to me.” 

“Oh, hell yeah I do,” you confirm, eyes widening as you think of your endless fantasies involving the man in front of you. “How do you feel about taxidermy?” 

“We’re not involving taxidermy into our sex life, no fucking way,” he replies firmly. “That’s a hard fucking no, you keep that in your freaky head.” 

“Noted. What about anal?” 

“You went from taxidermy to anal how exactly?” 

“Stuffing,” 

Seungcheol tries not to laugh but breaks into an amused smile and motions for you to get closer. “You’re seriously insane, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, we discovered this years ago, Cheolie,” 

“Mm,” he slides his hands onto your hips as he smiles at you in a soft kind of way that makes your heart race. 

“Cheol?” He hums. “Is…I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for years.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before they soften back out and he takes a gentle hold of your face and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you too,” 

“Oh, really?” He nods and you grin happily at him. “That’s cool. We should get married or something.” 

“Fucking hell, you can’t just spring that on me,” he groans, hiding his blushing face into your neck as his arms wind around your waist to hold you close.

“But we’re in love, we love each other, why should we wait?” You’re genuinely confused and it makes him chuckle a little. “I’m serious, Cheol! Why should we wait to get married if that’s what’s going to happen anyway?”

“Alright, baby, let’s get married,” he agrees, straightening up, beaming at you so happily that you can’t help but smile back at him. “We’ll start arranging it as soon as we’re home, hm? But for now-” 

“Sex, lots of sex,” you finish for him. 

“I was going to say let’s sleep but you’re right, who even needs sleep?” He hoists you up with a cheeky grin while you giggle and wrap your arms and legs around him to make it easier for him to take you into the bedroom. 

“You didn’t answer me about anal,” 

“I don’t have anal lube, babe,” he chuckles, laying you down onto the bed and climbing between your thighs while removing his shirt.

“I don’t have a dildo or strap either,” you pout at the reminder.

“Wait, you meant my ass?” 

“Yeah, I really want to fuck your ass, it’s made to be fucked.” 

“Uh, I’ll consider it.” 

“Okay.” You reach out to pull him back down and slot your lips together shortly. “Now, you owe me,” 

“What, why?” 

“You said you were going to fuck me until I can’t walk and that never happened.” 

“Because you let me think you don’t want me for more than just sex!” 

“All I’m hearing is excuses and not enough action to put your cock in me,” 

“Yeah yeah, get naked.” He slaps your thigh a few times in encouragement while leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt. 

You make zero effort to move at all, except to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch intently as he slowly unbuttons his belt.

“Are you seriously just going to watch me strip?” He asks while teasingly dragging his fingers along his skin along the edge of his waistband with a cocky smirk once his belt is open.

“Dance for me, pretty boy,”

Seungcheol puts his hands on his hips and waits until you’ve dragged your gaze up from staring at the outline of his cock, over his bare torso and to his face. He’s raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you just call me pretty boy?” 

“Yes,” 

“Fucking crazy,” he huffs a short laugh.

“Hey!” You lean up just enough to slap his thigh scoldingly then sit up so that you can grope at his thighs with both hands while he just watches with an amused, fond little smile at your utterly shameless actions. “You are pretty, my pretty boy,” 

“Mm, I can accept that,” he agrees, holding your jaw with one hand firmly to tilt you up as he leans in to brush his lips over yours teasingly. “So long as I’m your pretty boy, I don’t mind being called that. So long as I’m yours, you can call me anything.” 

“Okay, sugarplum.” You cackle at the world-weary sigh that Seungcheol lets out against your lips before he leans back to look at you unimpressed. “What’s the matter, pookie?” 

“Why did you have to ruin the mood?” 

“I ruined the mood?” You smirk and slide one hand up his thigh to grip his cock firmly, making him hiss through his teeth at the sudden, tight pressure. “Feels like you’re still in the mood to me, pretty boy.” 

“I really must be insane,” 

“We match well then, huh?” 

“Mm,” he leans down to kiss you shortly. “Good thing we’re never having kids, they’d be sectioned before they reach adulthood.” 

“Our neighbours would hate us,” 

“They would,” he chuckles. “We’ll find somewhere new to live together once we’re married, away from noisy ass neighbours, and with a garden so I can fuck you outside and see how gorgeous you’ll look with the sun shining on you when you’re covered in my cum.” 

“There’s a park down the road,” 

“No,” he scoffs and shoves you back to make you lay down before his hands move to roughly yank his belt free. “You’re mine, I’m not letting anyone else see you like that.” 

“Even knowing they can look but not touch?” 

“Maybe once I’ve covered you in marks and made up for the past five years of not being able to fuck you.” 

“Sounds like a party,” you grin, and then wiggle excitedly as he taps the folded middle of his leather belt against your inner thigh. “That’d leave pretty marks.” 

“Mm, it would, you need to be naked for that though, baby,”

“You need to dance for me first,” you remind matter-of-factly before lacing your fingers together behind your head comfortably. 

“You really want me to dance for you?” 

“I’ve dreamed about you giving me a strip tease, don’t kill my boner, Cheolie.” 

“You’re going to kill my boner if you keep saying shit like this.” 

“Guess we need to invest in some gags,” 

“Guess we do,” he murmurs and licks his lips automatically at the thought of your lips stretched around a gag and drool running down your chin as you moan for him. “I’ll give you a strip tease another day, I need to fuck you too much.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise, baby,” 

“Okay.” You sit up and get to work, quickly stripping off your clothes so Seungcheol climbs off of the bed to force his fitted trousers off of his body along with his boxers.

When he kneels back on the bed naked, he finds you already laid there utterly nude with legs spread in wait for him to join you.

“How the fuck did you strip so fast?” He gawps, running his hands reverently over your thighs as he settles between them on his knees. 

“Years of practise,” 

“Stripping?” 

“Had to be prepared for the day you give in to my seduction.” 

“Well…good job,” he leans down over you, hands propping himself on the mattress so that he can kiss you. 

“Thank you,” you preen and run your hands up his sides to take the chance to touch as much of his strong torso as you can for the first time. You can’t fucking wait to spend the rest of your life touching him up. It’s going to be great. “Now, cock please,” 

Seungcheol chokes on a short laugh at your words. “Good use of manners, sweetheart,” 

“I thought so too. Definitely deserves a reward,” 

“Mm,” he shuffles down a little so that he can wrap his full lips around your left nipple and suck harshly, intent on starting his plan to cover you in hickies and hand prints to mark his property. 

“That’ll work,” you mutter, lacing fingers in his hair to encourage his mouth against your breast. “Not cock but it’ll do for now.” 

“Shut up,” he laughs against your skin. 

“Make me,” 

“Brat,” 

“You like it,” 

“I do,” he sighs before moving one hand over your chest and throat until he can press against your parted lips. There’s no resistance at all, your jaw dropping enough to allow his middle and ring finger to slide into your mouth. “Good fucking girl,” Seungcheol praises in a low, rough voice as you instantly start to suck at his fingers, swirling your tongue around and between them with happy little moans. 

Seungcheol keeps his mouth against your body, sucking and biting violent looking marks into your skin until he’s satisfied with his artwork. He moves down, dragging the fingers from your mouth as he does, smearing your own saliva in a trail all the way until he’s laid on his stomach between your thighs and attaching his mouth to your clit in the same moment he pushes those two wet fingers into you. 

“Cheol,” you breathe out, pushing down against his fingers so that he doesn’t even dare think of waiting. He hums against your clit, making your thighs tighten momentarily before he starts to work his fingers in rapid movements that make your eyes flutter and fingers grip at him. 

As your nails drag over his shoulder lightly, Seungcheol moans and arches up towards your hand, urging you on, encouraging you to grasp at him. Dig your nails in until he hisses and fucks his fingers into you harder and faster. 

“H-how much can you take?” He asks, leaning up on his free hand, mouth and chin smeared with your arousal. 

“Anything,” you promise, feeling as desperate as the wild darkness in his eyes tells you he feels. 

Seungcheol nods and pulls his fingers from you as he moves up onto his knees. He doesn’t even ask you to move, just grabs you and manhandles you onto your front, chest against the mattress and hips up just enough to give him a better angle to begin sliding his thick cock into you. 

Maybe you hadn’t been quite as ready as you could’ve been. As you perhaps should’ve been. It’s been a while since you put anything but your fingers in your pussy for a quick session since moving away from the city.

Living with your nosey ass best friend doesn’t give you the freedom to get your toys out as he seems to have the uncanny ability of popping up and making a big deal out of it. Lots of screaming and acting like he’s been visually assaulted. You do the same to him. Your relationship is full of a lot of love and mutual, mature respect, clearly.

It’s a tight fit and Seungcheol grips your hips tight as he painstakingly splits you open with his mouth parted and eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. Not that you can see. Or have the mental capacity to do anything but grip the pillow and almost suffocate yourself in it with the way you press your open mouth against the material. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he pants when he stops before he’s even buried his entire length in you. “Baby, I don’t-I don’t know if this is a good idea, fuck,” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn, turning your head to glare over your shoulder at him while reaching back to grab his ass and stop him from pulling out like he starts to. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Then I’ll do it,” you huff and push yourself up onto your hands. Admittedly, shaky hands but you’re too focused on your task to care. Too stubborn and desperate to get obliterated by his cock. 

“Babe-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Choi Seungchol,” you demand, pushing yourself back harsh enough that he flails and drops down onto his haunches as he swears, hands still gripping you though. His mouth says one thing and his body another. 

It’s a task getting your body upright until you’re on your knees, hands free to hold onto his forearm and thigh but when you do, you only take a moment to stop the spinning of your mind before you start to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans, spreading his thighs a little wider and rolling his hips in time with your bouncing. He’s not thrusting but his minute movements help to open you up a little more with every slap of your skin against his. 

This position isn’t very practical for you, not with Seungcheol. Not when it makes his cock feel even bigger than it actually is and your whole body trembles as it presses and drags against your walls in ways that feel like utter sin. You’re dripping all over him, ruining the bed and you don’t even care. Neither does he. 

“Your turn,” you murmur, falling still on his lap as you lean back against his chest to catch your breath at least a little and give your burning thighs a break. It’s a lot more work to ride him like that than you expected. You’ll have to take up a new workout routine so that you can do it for longer next time. You’re determined.

Seungcheol takes the moment of calm stillness to brush his lips over your shoulder and let his hands explore over your chest and spread-thighs. 

One of his hands trails between your legs to feel at where your pussy is spread around his cock. He makes a low, pleased sound before abruptly rubbing quick harsh circles over your clit. You shriek in surprise, body tensing at the sudden attack and nails digging into the skin of his thighs under your own.

“You gotta cum first,” he informs, stopping his circles for only a second to bring his hand back then down, landing a firm slap to your clit and making your body jerk as you moan brokenly. “That’s my dirty girl, fucking knew you’d like this,” his tone is nothing but aroused and approving as he slaps your clit again while holding you in place with his other arm wrapped securely around your waist with his hand on your chest. “You’re gonna cum like this, understand?” 

“Cheol-” 

“I said, do you understand?” Another slap, this one harsher in a toe-curling way, before he drags his palm and fingers over your clit in a way that could be considered almost soothing if he wasn’t pressing as firmly as he is. 

“Fuck, y-yeah. Don’t stop.” You agree, nodding where your head is tilted back against his shoulder. “But,” 

“What?” You don’t answer verbally and instead grip his left wrist to pull his hand up from your chest and to your throat. “I fucking love you,” he declares before squeezing your throat at the same time as he sucks on the side of your neck to create a new claim, his right hand moving to slap your clit in rapid succession. 

It’s only a few seconds of the combination, the intense pleasure from all melding together and sending a sharp orgasm through your body. Your body moves naturally as if trying to fight it and get away as you gasp for air you can’t get yet. Your nails drag deep red marks over his skin that only encourages him to fuck up into your convulsing walls. 

“Good, good,” he breathes against your neck and drops his palm from your throat back to your chest, both so that you can breathe clearly and so that he can hold you to him. He doesn’t stop playing with your clit though, his hips humping up into you and barely moving his cock but it’s still almost too much stimulation. 

The first orgasm is barely even over before another rocks through your body. 

This time, Seungcheol removes his hand from your clit, giving you some respite and murmurs praise against your shoulder the entire time it takes you to come down from the combination of both climaxes.

“You okay?” He asks gently when you turn your head to blink your eyes open and peer at him. You hum and nod, giving him a dopey, sated smile that makes him laugh. “Can you take more?” 

“Whatever you’ve got,” comes your confident response. 

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, looking nothing but proud of you and your pussy for being able to handle his thick cock. You’d puff like a peacock if, you know, you weren’t human.

Seungcheol takes a moment to just kiss you, lips and tongue meeting languidly as best as you both can considering the angle. You personally think it works very well and you’d give you both top marks.

And then he pushes you down against the mattress, one hand on the back of your neck to keep your cheek smushed against the pillow and his other hand holding your hip firmly to fuck into you in a brutal manner.

The headboard knocks harshly against the wall with every powerful stroke of his hips. The back of your thighs and ass are already starting to sting with the strength of his thrusts. His fingers bruise marks into your hip and neck as he hold you securely in place and forces you to just fucking take it. 

And you’re in heaven.

If you weren’t in love with the man before, you sure as fuck are now.

Nobody has ever fucked you like this. Nobody has handled you so well in every way. And you just know with everything in you that nobody else ever will. 

You’re definitely gonna marry the fuck out of Choi Seungcheol.

It doesn’t last much longer really, not that you can really blame Seungcheol considering he sat there and felt your pussy squeeze and cream over his cock twice already; and now he’s battering your walls so perfectly in a way that borders on pain in the most delicious of ways so you’re squeezing him all over again in minutes and almost screaming into the pillow as he forces another strong climax from your body.

You don’t even have the mental clarity to realise he’s stopped, his hips juddering against you as he cums as deep in you as possible with a string of low, rough moans with your name sprinkled in. 

“Oh, fuck,” you grunt when he lowers your hips to the mattress without pulling out just so that he can almost flatten you under his own body weight. You know he’s not entirely laid on you, you can feel the bulge of his biceps against your upper arms as he holds himself up just enough to not squish you.

“Shut up, you said you can take anything I give you,” he reminds in between pressing sweet, lingering kisses to your neck. 

“Meant your giant cock, not giant ass.” 

“You love my giant ass.”

“Mm. So, can I peg you?” 

“Can’t we just enjoy the post-sex bliss without you ruining it?” 

“No.” You wiggle your ass making him groan and then bite your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Don’t get me hard again, I’ll pass out if we go again before I sleep.” 

“That’s not a problem, unless you squish me, or go soft.” 

“Are you implying you’d carry on fucking even if I pass out?” 

“What? Because you wimp out, I have to suffer?” You scoff and wiggle again. “Got a problem with me using your body when you’re unconscious?” 

Seungcheol is silent for a moment in thought. “Just don’t stick anything in my ass.” 

“Mm, I can accept that. I want you to be awake when I ruin you anyway.” 

“I really don’t know what I’ve got myself into with you, do I?” 

“Nope.” You grin over your shoulder at him. “You said you’ll marry me, you’re stuck with me forever.” 

“I think I’m okay with that,” there’s a smile on his face as he moves off of you so that he can turn you enough to comfortably kiss you in a way that feels something like a promise. 

A promise to be okay with your endless depravities. A promise to marry you as soon as possible and buy a house together. A promise to spend the rest of his life loving you, his utterly bat-shit crazy troublemaker.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[luveline]

hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)

thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!

"I tried to call you!" 

Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him. 

He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress. 

"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?" 

When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!" 

"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?" 

"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too." 

"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?" 

"California, then Albuquerque." 

"Killing bad guys?" 

Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess. 

Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?" 

"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?" 

"They're just friends," JJ says. 

The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers. 

"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper. 

In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid." 

"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably. 

"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist." 

Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired." 

"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia." 

"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness. 

Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time." 

"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper. 

"I'm a special agent." 

"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?" 

Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you." 

You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent." 

Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word." 

[rainydayathogwarts]

Age gap - Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Your coworkers find out you love age gaps, but don't know about the relationship with your boss and the age gap within it. warnings: mentions of sex, brief smut ish, rs with your boss takes place in like s1 - hotch and haley are already divorced here. age gap (reader 27/hotch 44) - also we're going to ignore how i keep posting these off schedule 0.7k+ wc

You hadn't meant to attract the entire team's attention. The 'never have I ever' question had been accusingly aimed at Emily, who's been in just about every type of controversial relationship, but if you were telling the truth, you'd been in more than one relationship with a significant age gap. You tried averting your gaze away from any of your teammates' stare, hoping they wouldn't call you out on drinking. "I'm sorry, how old are you again?" Penny's question was the first, followed by:

"How big was the age gap?"

"Since when are you into older men?" and

"It was just one relationship right?"

"I won't be taking questions." You stated, but Penelope's harsh glare had you pouting, leaning back against the booth. "Okay, well you know how old I am." Having joined the team a mere year ago, you had surprised everyone with your young skin and healthy locks, a smile filled with innocence that had made them guess you were still young. Luckily, being so young and attractive had allowed the team to make fast progress on certain cases. Dealing with difficult Sheriffs on non-local cases was made relatively easier when all you had to do was smile at them and laugh at whatever inappropriate joke they made about you to get your way. Despite the team telling you that you didn't have to deal with the perverted cops, you'd shrugged it off, saying it only made everyone's live easier.

It was always worth it, especially when you went back to the hotel at night and were whisked away into Hotch's room, where he pinned you down against the bed, thrusting into you jealously while grunting into your ear that you were his. His and no stupid cops'.

Aside from that, your humour and light-hearted nature made it easier for the team to live with their traumatic jobs on a day to day life. Especially when you managed to better the SSA's mood when he was feeling particularly grumpy. "Okay how big was the age gap?" Pressed Derek with raised eyebrows. You shrugged, sipping your cold drink. "Depends which man you're talking about." Emily let out a long whistle, commenting "Looks like I've been dethroned."

Giggling, you traced the rim of your glass, licking your lips softly. "It's just a preference." You added, eyes flicking up with a glint of mischief. "Rossi, Hotch, watch out." JJ joked, making your gaze shift to the two older men on the team. You tried not to let your stare linger on Hotch, who was sat directly facing you, otherwise a clear indicator of the liking you'd taken to your boss. "Biggest age gap was older than I am." You weren't sure if your drunken words made much sense, but from the audible gasp Spencer let out, you assumed it was. "So that's what... twenty-eight years?" You hummed, looking up at the ceiling while trying to do the maths. Giving up, you shrugged your shoulders, muttering "Something like that."

At your team's impressed whistles and little jokes, you risked another glance at Aaron, who was already looking at you, a soft smile on his face. Quickly turning away from him, you asked "Why, Emily how big was your age gap?" Emily's answer barely hit your ears because you were too busy feeling for Aaron's leg under the table. When you finally felt the soft cotton of his trousers against the skin of your foot, you ran it up his leg, catching his reddening face from the corner of your eye as you maintained eye contact with Emily instead, nodding along with her.

You were sure that if Aaron focused hard enough, he would still be able to feel your hands on his thighs from when you crouched under his desk bare hours ago, licking up the underside of his dick before latching onto the tip, sucking so eagerly that he had to cover his mouth to stifle his moans. "You're coming back home with me after drinks tonight." He had told you, a hand on your waist when you were finally finished, fixing up your lipstick. "Then I can properly reward you for everything." And you couldn't wait, thighs clenching in anticipation.

Now all you had to do was sit with your friends and laugh along to their jokes, trying not to drag your boss away into a bathroom stall so that he could finally take you home, bending you over his couch with his fingers shoved down your throat so that you wouldn't wake the neighbours.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[neoarchipelago]

Haven't properly written in a while... This writer's block is destroying me...

_-_-_-_

Simon Riley getting hurt on his bike.

Like he has a mild crash because of a dumbass doing a U-turn and got smashed.

Bike is ruined, arm is bleeding from rubbing the asphalt. He just gets up, groaning because, shit, that bike is too weeks old. Walks like a boss but the old lady has already called 911 and is crying apologizing. Simon feels suddenly bad for his internal 'dumbass' comment. Paramedics tend to his wound, the old cop scolding him for driving in leather pants but in t-shirt.

"What kind of two half ass protection is this son?"

"What?"

Simon just feels a migraine rushing to him.

He gets a ride home from Soap who he called. Best buddy wouldn't shut up either but he loves his Johnny like his own brother so he lets him ramble.

He walks up to the elevator, saying bye to an over worried Soap who just groans and curses in his own babbling.

The elevator's doors close and silence finally settles. He runs his temple with his left hand through the balaclava, the right one holding his leather gloves and being bandaged.

His right arm stings, but he had much worse. Nothing a bit of bourbon couldn't erase. The pounding of his head needs to shut up too. The doors ding and he groans.

He walks to his apartment's door, fumbling the keys and the sound of a door slowly opening is heard behind him.

He glances back, pretty soft eyes looking in his direction. Ah yes. The neighboor.

"Hello Mr ril-... Oh god... What happened?"

He almost wants to chuckle at the worried expression.

" 'ust a scratch..." He mumbles, the words rumbling with his low tone.

But the footsteps he hears makes him sigh and he turns around looking down at the pretty Princess in front of him.

"Mr Riley! That doesn't look like a scratch... What happened?"

The pleading eyes, the worried expression does it for him, his eyes never leaving yours as he automatically mumbles:

"I crashed the bike."

Your eyes widen in shock again. He feels bad. You look even more worried now. He didn't even know that was possible and it somehow breaks his heart.

"Oh sh-...hum"

Hmm... She curses? He never heard her curse. It's adorable.

"Please tell me you're ok... Are you hurt anywhere else? Why didn't you call me? I mean-"

God that blush is cute. How can you be so cute? He wants to just put you under a glass case and keep you in there. He'd get lots of flowers and moss. You'd be his fairy-

"Mr Riley?"

She tilts her head to the side.

"I'm fine. No broken bones."

That seems enough to make her sigh of relief. But suddenly she grabs his good hand and she tugs softly towards her still open door.

"What?"

Simon is floored that this is the only thing he manages to say.

"You can't stay on your own! You just got into a crash! You need to be looked after!"

"What?"

He wants to punch himself now. Don't you know any other words Simon Riley?!

Also, why is he walking behind her like a lost puppy she's softly tugging on the leash of?

Why is he inside her apartment? With the door closed?

How did he end up sitting on the couch? With a cup of tea and cookies.

"What?" He asks again.

She giggles.

"What do you want for dinner? I'll let you decide what you want I'll go prepare the guest's bedroom!" You happily jump to your task after he nods.

Simon looks around, the warmth and cozy space, the plants and the weird cat staring at him from the window sit. He kinda looks at Simon the same way Simon is looking at him. With the same expression that says:

"What?"

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until then fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, But It's Not So Sexy

Part 2 of Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy (🏷 @newobsessionweekly)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: While you're undercover, Metro raids the drug manufacturing facility you're in. Tim tries to arrest you again, but you have a job to finish.

Warnings: discussion/depiction of drug trafficking, typical show warnings, fluff and banter

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Put me in the back of your car and we'll start a verbal flirtation. I'm doing tax fraud and arson, now take me down to your station.

“Defying orders is the best thing I’ve ever done,” you muse as your captain reviews your current case.

“You’re just lucky Bradford didn’t actually report that,” she points out. “The body cam footage and arrest got to do all the talking.”

“And you saw it and just knew you had to have me, right?”

She nods sarcastically, then pushes an envelope toward you. “This is your cover. Nysse Bret.”

“And I fit some kind of description?”

“There’s word going around about a new dealer, better product, better prices… easy on the eyes. It’s got the target dealers and producers shaken up, just how we like them.”

You nod as you look through the envelope. It’s your first time going undercover alone, but you know you can do it.

“So, you want me to shake them up a little more, overstep on their turf, down sell their product, get them out in the open?” you clarify.

“Preferably. And given your track record of disobeying orders to do the right thing, going in solo seems like the logical next step for you.”

“The product you’re giving me?” you ask.

“It’s real,” she answers. “Diluted and nearly unusable, but legitimate. If it’s tested, it’ll come back as weak but real.”

“Got it. Don’t use it. And if I need backup?”

“Never more than five minutes out. We’ll try to grab buyers as we go, but that’s not the priority.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Oh, and keep up this sassy, unbreakable thing. That’s what these guys will expect from Nysse Bret. That and not taking any crap.”

“You’re saying I can flash my gun if they think sassiness is an invitation.”

“Was that a question?”

You smile and slide your sunglasses onto your nose as you answer, “Nope.”

“Sergeant Bradford has new intel on Savva Pavlov, one of Los Angeles’s biggest drug manufacturers. Heroine, coke, if someone can do it, Pavlov can make it. We take him out, we take the majority of the drugs out of LA,” Captain Pine reports.

“Until the next guy moves in,” someone points out.

“Then we find him too,” Tim answers. “Pavlov is big, so we gain time, at least, if we take him out.”

“Take it, Bradford,” Pine encourages.

“Yes, ma’am. We have good intel, so we’re moving in on this location.” He pauses and points to a location on the screen. “There will be people inside, drugs inside. We go in protected, get everyone we can, and make sure that Pavlov doesn’t slip through the cracks. We’ll have teams of three stationed on every side of the building and we’ll enter from the north and south sides.”

“How can you know if Pavlov is there?” an officer asks.

“We don’t. If we get lucky, we arrest him. If not, we break one of his guys to find out where he is. This drug war needs to end, so we can’t wait around for Pavlov to get back from a smoke break.”

“Any questions?” Pine asks. “Preferably ones that aren’t stupid?”

“No, ma’am,” the team answers together.

“Then get ready, we roll in twenty.”

“So, you’re Nysse,” a man drawls, looking you up and down but never glancing above your neck.

“Depends,” you answer. “Would you make the woman taking your bosses’ customers wait?”

“They’re not his customers, they’re ours!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize through chuckles. “I wasn’t aware this was a Starscream undermining Megatron situation.”

“What?”

You level your gaze, drop your smile, and remove your sunglasses to look down at the shorter man. “I said, you’re trying to act bigger and bolder than you are.”

“I’ll show you bigger and bolder,” he growls.

You lift the left side of your shirt to show the Colt 45 against your hip. “I’d like to see you try.”

The man licks his lips as he steps back. “Mr. Pavlov will be here soon. He’s finishing a meeting.”

“Perfect,” you exclaim cheerfully, dropping your shirt and sliding your sunglasses onto your head. “Hey, what’s it like working for him? Get good vacation time?”

“Perhaps you’d like to see his process while you wait,” he suggests, leading you through a swinging door.

“Oh, I’d love to.”

“This is where the magic happens,” he says, opening his arms toward the warehouse of men and women working in gas masks and hazmat suits.

“What’s back there?” you ask, pointing to a blocked-off area at the back.

“Pavlov’s office. He’ll take you back there when he arrives.” He smiles and adds, “Women like you always leave happy.”

You roll your eyes at his comment. Before you can reply sarcastically, a flashbang is thrown through one of the few ventilation windows. You see it in time to drop your head and cover your ears, but you’re still disoriented for a moment.

“LAPD Metro!” someone yells. “Drop to your knees, hands on your head! Now!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you exclaim.

“Follow me,” the man beside you urges, blinking wildly to regain his vision. “There’s a-“

“Cop behind you,” you point out, tilting your head to the side. “He’s pretty cute, actually.”

“LAPD, on the ground. Now,” Tim says slowly. “That means you, sir.”

The man is still facing you, his back to Tim. You can tell he plans to run, so you lean against the rail beside you and cross your arms.

“What’s in it for me?” you ask.

“What?” Tim asks, holding his gun against his shoulder.

“If I get on the ground and ruin my outfit, what’s in it for me?”

Tim begins to say your name, but you shake your head once.

“Nysse Bart,” you introduce. “Maybe you’ve heard of me. But your little war on drugs is a war against me. So, make it worth my time and maybe I tell you what I know.”

“What about me?” the man before you asks.

“Sure, fine. Help us out, and we help you out, handsome,” you tell Tim. “Or we could just leave, find a more romantic spot.”

“You’re under arrest,” Tim says, dropping his gun to handcuff your tour guide.

“Cuffed while Pavlov enjoys the beauties of the port,” he mumbles.

So that’s where he is, you think. Picking up a shipment – or ladies – at the port.

“Bradford is it?” you ask as Tim moves toward you. “I really like how this shirt fits, so could you cuff me with my hands in front? As a sign of good faith, I’ll apologize for hitting on you.”

Tim shakes his head and pulls your hands behind your back. He places the cuffs in your hands rather than around your wrists. You huff and pout at him, then notice your phone, Nysse’s phone, is buzzing.

Another Metro officer takes Pavlov’s right-hand man, leaving you with Tim. You have to get to Pavlov, and after Metro raided the facility while you were inside, you have to go forward on your own.

“Sorry,” you say as you close one of the cuffs around Tim’s wrist.

He pulls his arm back when he feels your hand on him, but you snap the other side closed around the safety rail behind him.

“Take it off,” Tim demands.

“Sorry, sir,” you taunt as you walk backward, placing your sunglasses back on your nose. “That wasn’t quite sexy enough.”

“Get back here!”

“Oh, he looks like he wants to chase me,” you say, fanning yourself dramatically. “Navy blue booty, go ahead and lock me up.”

You wiggle your fingers to wave before you turn and walk through a side exit to catch Pavlov before he leaves the port with imported drugs. When you call your captain for backup, you tell her that Metro raided the facility, not knowing you were there. She grumbles something under her breath and promises to look into it and keep it from happening again. You remember the shock on Tim’s face when you cuffed him and realize it wasn’t so bad.

“And here I was, thinking that you’d be in the back of someone’s car admitting to tax fraud and arson,” you tease as you enter the roll call room.

“You caught Savva Pavlov,” Tim says. “Nice work.”

“If you want me to apologize for handcuffing you in a drug warehouse, I know this really nice place where we could have dinner, and you could kiss me to prove you mean it.”

Tim huffs a laugh, his smile appearing for several seconds. Your smile grows at the knowledge that Tim enjoys your back and forth as much as you do.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says. “We should have done our due diligence before we went in. I risked your safety during the raid, and there’s no excuse for that.”

You shrug and assure, “It worked out. Plus, you looked so good that it was a great break from the greasy little guy I’d been stuck with.”

“Yeah, he seemed to think I interrupted something.”

“A UC operation.”

Tim nods and asks, “Are you staying with the UCs?”

“I like it. Maybe not full time, but, yes, it’s something I can see myself doing again.”

“You’re a great cop, just… be careful.”

You lay your hand on Tim’s arm and promise, “I will. Knowing you’re in Metro and will come when I call helps.”

“You don’t need anyone telling you how to do your job, I know that, but I just want to make sure you’re safe. Especially after what happened today.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, gently squeezing Tim’s arm. As you step back, you ask, “Why didn’t you actually cuff me?”

“Nysse Bart? You said the name and I realized we messed up. Not to mention that, for once, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t you just say I could do no wrong?”

“No, I said-“

“So, should we go to dinner, or do you want me to go buy some illegal contraband so you can arrest me again?” you tease.

Your smile drops when Tim says, “Dinner. Meet me outside in ten.”

He turns and is almost to the door when you ask, “Wait, seriously?”

[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ quiet now, will you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: bratfem!reader x dom!modernau!anakin, dirty talking, teasing, clit play, he likes to command just a bit too much.

summary: anakin is taking you home after picking you up from your shift, and of course he is hungry as fuck. just...you're feeling bratty.

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

“h-hey!” you lament, hands quickly folding together to push the fabric of your sweater between your legs. the little fist they created stays there, pressed right between a drenched cunt, his hand and your thighs—a vain, and rather pathetic, attempt to stop your boyfriend from getting what he was craving. “h-hand away!”

it had been already a long day at work—your boss making you run from one office to the other just because her spoiled daughter wanted to read a book that wasn’t even fucking released yet. last thing you need, was anakin all over your pussy, and his car’s seat dirty. maybe you should’ve thought twice before shoving yourself into more comfortable clothes—a thick sweater that worked more as a short, barely covering dress—and keep your tailleur instead.

anakin just watches you squirm and use your only cloth as a barrier, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked delight before a low chuckle escapes his lips. his hand, determined in feeling more, comes to rest atop the hoodie mound you just created after abruptly pushing yours away, pressing down against the fabric just enough to feel the warmth and dampness underneath.

"'hand away'…" he teases mockingly, his voice resonating with that deep sound that is exclusively his. "think you got the power to make demands, princess? after i haven’t seen you for an entire day?" a playful, yet starved edge lines his words with a smirk. his fingers begin to move in a slow, deliberate circle over the hoodie, not enough to touch directly, but the implication is there—a reminder of the control he holds over your pretty body.

it gets you writhing and panting instantly, and as you wrap your hand around his wrist to try and move him away, the pressure only gets more insistent. so much, that what sounds like a tiny moan flips out of your mouth. you really thought you had the strength to push him away? tsk.

“a-ani…c-c’mon…” you cry, but your hips were betraying you by basically humping against his hand.

he simply scoffs at your pitiful wail, enjoying the friction of your core over his digits. “never this drenched. not even when i cum all over it.”

the car's engine hums and thrums to life as anakin lets his hand linger over your hidden cunt, driving you insane with the need for more in only seconds. yet, he never really gives you what you need. you were always so fucking perfect with your innocent blush and eager body—he loves how you respond to him so quickly, despite your best efforts. even if, at times, he has to push you a bit more. but it’s alright, because your pussy always spoke louder than your useless words.

anakin’s other hand grips the shifter, his knuckles white as he pulls it into reverse, his gaze finally breaking away from you to check the mirrors. his actions dual; driving the car while driving you mad, and it was an easy combination to him. probably it became a skill after all the other times he fingered you in that passenger seat, making you cum more than one time in less than six miles.

and even as he pulls out of the parking spot, he keeps his eyes on the task while his body did not—his driving smooth and practiced, while his fingers softly toy with you.

"quiet now, angel." he murmurs, licking his lips in what seems a concentrated—yet unbothered—expression. “don’t wanna be pulled over by cops while i milk my fingers, right?”

the car backs out from the parking lot and, as he finds the way to the road home, the vibrations of the moving vehicle add an entirely new layer to the torture you are already being put under. your doe eyes look like more interested in the movements of his fingertips rather than the road ahead, and your hole clutches around nothing.

and then, anakin found your clit even through all those layers of fabric, pushing a full-on moan out of your lungs. how the hell does he manage that? every fucking time?

“b-babe…please—” you grit out while your body heat increases more and more, and your soaked panties practically damp the sweater too.

"hey. told ya, quiet.” anakin commands again, this time way sterner than before. “if you can stay silent and good, maybe—maybe—you’ll get the reward you’re dripping for. but make even a little noise, and i’ll leave you wantin’ and aching all the damn way back."

his hand presses a little harder before pulling away completely, making you tremble at the loss, before it reaches for the gear shift to help drive on the dark street. "so…let’s see how good my little princess can really be, hm?"

your lover could feel the stickiness on his fingertips, highlighting his hunger. god, he could still taste the sweetness of your pussy from the previous night, and the scent of your arousal is the car made his pupils dilate. but there’s nothing more easy for anakin than to have self control when it comes to teasing you. so he stays in his seat, driving carelessly, as if his index and middle didn’t just turn you into a heated whore.

but tonight, you are having none of it. who does he think he is? making fun of you like that? after you had one of the most stressful days of the week at work, and even told him? hell the fuck no. just like he started, he was gonna make you finish.

“mmhm! no!” you huff out, your hands clutching the excessively long sleeves of your sweater before smacking right onto your thighs in frustration. “p-put it back there!” the pout on your face mixes with what seems a frown—this was a stance that you never dared to take before, but that now came automatically at his carefree demeanor and actions.

“now.”

whiny brat.

at your defiance, anakin’s sharp jaw clenches tightly and almost immediately. a surge of possessiveness tightens around his heart like a vice, the call to put you back in your damn place taking over any restraint he had been putting onto his own emotions. that sudden insistence in your voice makes him laugh dryly, simply not to reach out and pull your hair like you fucking deserved.

"ahhh, what did i say about zipping it?" his voice is a lethal purr, and his eyes, blue like shards of ice, caught yours in the review mirror. "seems someone’s already beggin’ for punishment." and as he continues to navigate the deserted streets, the silence of the night around you feels almost like an accomplice to whatever was about to happen inside that poor range rover.

but still, you don’t relent, staring right back into his eyes as your lids turn into two thin lines. “i’m not.” you respond, fists tightening even more with rage.

anakin drums his fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping sending a message of impatience as he considers your outburst with a sickening silence. with a quick glance to ensure the road is empty, he slows the car, almost to a crawl. the sudden braking gets you to jerk forward, but thankfully the seatbelt prevents you from hitting your head. it makes you yelp, though, and your eyes squeeze.

"you want it there, right? is that how you ask for something, you snappy brat?” he almost barks at you, noticing how your expression is a mixture of defiance and surprise before snapping his eyes fully back towards the road.

and then, anakin reaches over with a masterful slowness, allowing the back of his knuckles to graze across the swell of your breast through the sweater, then down your stomach, before hovering just millimeters away from your needy, aching pussy. “touch this?” the scent emanating from there is still so strong, the window couldn't air it out.

“y-yeah…” you gulp, following the path of his hand with your trembling eyes, while thinking that your little tantrum did the thing. but the next words he speaks get that smug and aroused expression off of your face just as quickly as it came.

"want me to touch your pathetic cunt? funny. you break the rules, sweet girl, you get nothin'." his voice is firm yet threaded with a dark desire. "you keep being this disobedient...hmmph, i might just have to spank that pretty ass of yours until you remember who's in charge here.” then, just as abruptly, he shifts his hand away, up to the damn shift again.

now, you think twice before humming a lament. last time he slapped your ass, you were barely able to sit.

"but if you’re good—and i mean real good—you’ll get what's coming to you. i’ll fuck your worthless hole until you're screamin', breed you until you can't think...all those dirty things you like."

“i-i’m not being—” but you don’t even manage to finish your phrase as anakin makes a hard turn, taking the rover to a more secluded area—a field just by the street, apparently empty. your nails claw at each side of your seat, trying to keep you steady, and that belt helps you once again.

he told you to be fucking quiet, why you still speaking?

the headlights illuminated the open space as he pulls over, then switches off the engine, and turns in his seat to face you properly. "fucking crybaby." anakin sneered, glaring your startled body up and down. "listen up. you've got one chance to show me how good you can be for daddy. are you gonna take it, or do i have to remind you just how hard i can make that little pussy beg for me?"

[cult-of-husbandos]

karasuda ren [soft!yandere] - All I Want For Christmas Is A Cute Yandere!

synopsis: you're spending another Christmas alone. there's only one thing you want and there's only one person who can make it happen. but, shenanigans occur!

genre: a little crackish, fluff, holiday love

word count: 6.29k

warnings: binge drinking, kidnapping, a little claustrophobia

Ahh, Christmas Eve. The most festive and romantic time of year. The city has never looked so bright and beautiful than when it’s decorated with wreaths and tinsel on every pole and building and fairy lights illuminating a soft glow of the pillowy snowy streets of your city. Not to mention the sights and sounds that sing this otherwise boring, claustrophobic place into jolly merriment. The delicious smells of bakeries and restaurants serving cakes and pies and nauseatingly sugary Christmas cookies. Buskers singing Christmas songs to afford a decent meal. Last minute idiots scrounging the shelves in stores and causing scenes to get that one important present or Christmas is ruined. Families walking with their children with excitement on their faces about what Santa will bring them tonight. Happy couples walking hand in hand and sharing hot cocoa and sweet treats before they get home. Retail workers resisting the urge to shoot themselves when Mariah Carey’s winter album plays for 6667th time that day.

Yes, it seems that everyone was in a rush to get home to be with that special somebody tonight.

EXCEPT FOR YOU!

Day after day. Year after year. Holiday after fucking holiday!

Seriously! It should be against the fucking law to have to work on Christmas Eve. Especially, when the workplace is complete ass and your coworkers take turns using the singular brain cell that seems to float aimlessly around the office. When you were just a fresh newbie, you used to blame your singleness on your work. ‘I don’t have the time right now, I should try when I get used to the environment.’ That was your thought process. But, now you know that it was all complete horseshit! The real reason you can’t make time for anything, let alone a relationship, is because your boss and your coworkers are required by the laws of fate and destiny to cockblock you until you’re that old Karen calling the cops on your neighbors for having too bright lights in their yard. When you first got hired, you promised that you wouldn’t become like the old greedy ladies at your work that glared at the smallest hint of happiness and bitched about it on their ‘Moms Against…’ Facebook groups.

Yet, here you are. Hours before Christmas, shuffling home like a morally depleted penguin hating every single happy and smiling face you came across. Even the forced ones.

As you trudged through the dirt clodded snowy and slippery as hell sidewalk, you couldn’t help but unintentionally glare at every single couple you passed by. Happy smiles adorned their faces as they shared intimate kisses and huddled together for warmth. You tried not to gag or roll your eyes because it wasn’t really their fault. They were just enjoying the festivities and snow. You on the other hand are huddled into yourself trying not to bust your ass in the middle of a public street and quickly get home so you can rip off your shoes that were sopping wet and nearing frostbite from the slushy snow penetrating your shoes. 

To be honest, the last place you wanted to be at was your apartment. You sigh to yourself in disappointment knowing what’s waiting for you: Nothing. In particular, no one. As stated before, day after day, year after year, holiday after freaking holiday, all that awaits you is a cold, empty apartment with comfort items and furniture that you either bought off of Amazon or got off the streets. No one would be waiting for you except the inescapable loneliness that you felt every day. Your plans are the same as last year’s, and the year before that, and the year before that, and so on and so forth. You’ll get home, take a lukewarm shower because your plumbing is always busted around this time of year, drink a 1/5th of Holly Jolly Krinkles Peppermint Vodka, and pass out watching the Polar Express on Hulu. Then, wake up Christmas afternoon and try not to throw up the rest of the day. Your ancestors must be so proud staring down at you after generations of their own hardship.

Peeking up from your huddled form you spot your apartment complex up ahead. You sigh again feeling the need for a drink. As you hurriedly jogged up the stairs and rushed to your door, you slowed to a halt as you saw a bottle sitting on your doormat. Titling your head in confusion, you looked around for any clues on who could’ve left this on your door. Cautiously, you picked up the suspicious bottle and felt that it was heavy and filled with liquid. A white and red envelope fell onto the mat and you picked it up as well. The envelope had your name addressed to it, but nothing else. You looked back at the bottle and squinted into the dark to read the label on the front. In the dark you could only make out ‘Feeling Pine Mulled Wine.’ You groaned at the pun. On top of the cork you noticed a green ribbon tied along with a small folded note. Inside the card read, “For you, from Santa Claus~♡”.

“Santa Claus…?” you muttered to yourself. You scoff and think of this as nothing more than corporate shilling and shameless advertisement to get people to spend even more money on this capitalist holiday. Everyone in the building must’ve gotten a bottle and since you got home late you’re the only one left. Shivering harshly as a chilling breeze rushed through you, you quickly shot into your apartment. Like a defeated animal, you ripped off every single piece of wet clothing and left it near your front door for ‘hungover you’ to worry about. Placing the mulled wine on the kitchen counter to worry about later you jogged to the bathroom for your shower. Second to drinking yourself to sleep, you looked forward to your shower the most. Flipping your shower nozzle to the highest setting, you jumped in and hopped around as the blizzard water hit your skin. You shivered as you rubbed soap aggressively on your body waiting for the lukewarm water to set in. After a few minutes, the water didn’t change. You waited a few more minutes and the water was still cold?! All of the frustration and anger bottling up inside you finally popped.

“AAAARRGGHHHH!!!” You screamed with all your might. Your screams bounced around your echo-ey bathroom as your next-door neighbor banged on your wall. You banged the wall back even harder out of frustration. What kind of shitty development is this?! You are a good person! Why is it that whenever something good happens to you someone shits all over you?! Who did you kill in your past life to warrant this sharknado level shitstorm that is your adult life?

“God-fucking-DAMMITT! I hate this shitty building and its shitty pipes and its shitty… shitty shit shit!!” You stomped as you frustratingly shut off the shower. Again, you’re reminded of your paper thin walls as your next door neighbor banged on your wall even harder. Completely fed up with everything, you punched and kicked at your wall with all your might.

“Evan Christopher Daniels, you motherfucker! I swear to God, you bang on this wall one more FUCKING time! I’m calling the landlord and telling him all about your basement cock fighting ring and we BOTH know we aren’t talking about chickens!”

The banging immediately stopped. You huffed and leaned against the cold tile wall. You needed a drink more than ever, but you did feel a little better after yelling. Walking out of the bathroom in your towel, your attention is brought back to the wine bottle and envelope. Staring at the wine bottle and label again in a better light you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Nothing obvious at least. So, with a shrug and popped the cork.

“Better than that shitty minty vodka…” you muttered.

*****

“A-And then… that Chevy-back refrigerator built asshole had the nerve to put his dirty face next to mine and breathe his hot Frito-shit pie breath all over me! Can you believe that?!”

You were venting. You were venting and drunk. You were venting, drunk, and talking to the only thing that brought you solace in this cruel time of joyful merriment: the characters on screen from the movie you were watching.

Wow. How sad.

“‘This is no good, Y/N.’ ‘You should try harder, Y/N.’ ‘How ‘bout spending Christmas stuck to my bed sheets, Y/N.’ How about you get the fuck outta my face, fix your hairline and get veneers you shitty generic ugly bastard-looking McFuck!!”

You sprawled out on the floor, sloppy lamenting over your life and where you could have possibly gone wrong.

“Why is it that whenever I get hit on, it’s either from creeps on the subway or fat geriatrics with greasy foreheads that get off on power harassment?” you ask your screen.

“‘Cause that’s the way things happen on the Polar Express!’”

You clicked your tongue and grumbled, “I wish I was on the Polar Express…” you spared a glance to your empty apartment. “Better than being here alone…” You took another drink from your bottle and set it down beside you. “This is good… I’ll have to drink this shit all-year round.”

As you silently surveyed your surroundings as the movie continued in the background, your eyes were drawn to the unopened letter that came with your wine. With a grunt and a sigh, you reached over to pick up predicting that it’s mostly like a Christmas themed advertisement for the company. However, instead was a Christmas portrait card. You opened the card and read the beautiful cursive that was inside.

“Wish upon the brightest star in the sky and your deepest wish will come true.”

You read the words over and over again. ‘Wish upon a star?’ you thought incredulously. What good would that do? You looked on each side of the card but there wasn’t anything else, not even a signature. The handwriting on the Christmas card didn’t match the note on the cork either. You scoffed after a while and flicked the card back on the floor.

“Deepest wish will come true…” you grumbled softly. “That’s only something a child would believe in.”

“‘Seeing is believing, but, sometimes, the most real things in the world are the things we can't see.’”

Your attention was brought back to your movie and the words that stood out by the conductor. Wait… was the movie playing out of order?

“Seeing is believing, huh?” you muttered to yourself. You looked to your bedroom window. Snow gracefully falling from the night sky down to the bright city lights from under your window. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just a plane, but there in the cloudy night you spotted a single light that penetrated the clouds. Again the words on the card rang through your mind like church bells, or maybe those were just the bells from the movie.

“Meh, fuck it.” You were already drunk and alone. Might as well do something embarrassing in the comfort of your own home than in a bar full of equally lonely people, right?

You crawled your way towards the window and sat on your knees. You already knew what your deepest wish was. You wished for it every holiday: your birthday, Valentine’s Day, hell, even Arbor Day. But, who should you even be praying to to make the wish come true? Santa Claus? God? Buddha? David Bowie? No, there’s only one person who could make a wish like this come true. Someone who you've never prayed to. Someone who could make your dream a reality.

“Oh, Supreme Lord Master Gege Akutami,” you called out. “I know I’ve never prayed to you before, but you’re a man that can make miracles happen. You’re the only one I know that can make my wish come true. The only thing that I want for Christmas is…” you took a deep breath.

“All I want is a super cute yandere boyfriend!”

You can’t be serious.

“I’ve seen your creations Oh Heavenly One and I know you can make that happen. The gorgeous men and women from your manga are only just as beautiful and holy as the animated versions! But not just an old yandere will do! I want a super cute one! The kind of yandere that feed, spoil, and give their unwavering love and affection to the MC! The kind of yandere that will only keep me to himself so I don’t have to work at my shitty job anymore.”

Oh you are dead serious, aren’t you?

“He has to have a cute smile, gorgeous eyes, and soft kissable lips! And he has to be taller than me, but not too tall! Just the right amount of height where I can give him headpats and forehead kisses and when he lays down on my lap only his feet go over the couch arms, not his legs! Also, I want him to have a nice build, not too skinny and lanky. I’ve seen the kind of men you’ve brought to light so I know you can make it work Oh Great One.”

Oh dear lord…

“And he has to know everything about me! Like super omega obsessed with me, but in a cute way that makes it hard to be mad at him. Oh, and extroverted as hell to counterout my introvertedness! Like the type of person who will go up to the fast food worker and tell them that I wanted no pickles on the burger! Y’know, and also…”

Okay, I’m gonna cut the rest of this drunken otaku rambling for the future therapy you’ll be court mandated to attend.

“Please, Lord Gege… if not you then… I don’t know what else I’m gonna do.” You squeeze your fist tighter and close your eyes shut as a last ditch effort. “Please make my deepest wish come true.”

You slowly opened your eyes to see nothing in the sky anymore. Nothing but dark snowy clouds. You let out a pitiful chuckle as you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“What the hell am I doing…?” you whispered. “I am so fucking pathetic…” Maybe it was just a stupid plane after all. You meekly crawled back to your spot on the floor and layed down a few inches away from your laptop. The movie was still playing and the time read “12:01 A.M.”. It was officially Christmas. And today, just like every Christmas, you were drunk and alone. The sounds of actual church bells rang throughout your room from the outside. You lazily stared at the movie that was nearing its end.

“‘Just remember, the true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart.’”

‘Santa Claus… Christmas… wishing… it’s all a bunch of shit…’

As you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you soon gave into your tiredness praying that your hangover in the morning wouldn’t be too bad.

*****

Rustle… Rustle… THUD!

You are jolted awake at the sound of a large thudding sound coming from outside your bedroom door. Bleary-eyed, you check the time on your phone. It was 3 A.M.. Thinking it was just your neighbors, you laid back down on the cold hard floor. Until, a few seconds later, you are woken up again this time with a large bang. 

Okay, that sounded way too close to be your neighbor. Someone was definitely in your apartment. You carefully snuck over to your bedroom door and pressed your ear against it. You couldn’t hear any voices (which makes sense), all you could hear was the sounds of something rustling.Are you actually getting robbed?! On fucking Christmas?! Oh hell no! Fueled with drunken courage and hazy eyes, you grabbed the empty wine bottle and quietly snuck out of your room. Peeking around the corner, you saw a tall, dark figure looming in your living room. You quickly flipped on the lights and jumped from around the corner raising the bottle above your head, ready to smack a bitch if they tried to run.

“Alright! Who the fuck are–!”

 You stopped dead in your tracks and the wine bottle you held tightly in your hands dropped to the floor with a solid thud. The man standing in your living room, staring you dead in your eyes like a deer caught in headlights of a lifted Ford truck, was wearing a vibrant red suit complete with black boots, white gloves, and a red had, had a long, fluffy white beard, a large white bag filled to the brim with wrapped presents, and twinkling blue eyes. You felt your breath catch in your throat. It was unmistakable.

“Santa Claus…?” you groggily called out.

The man’s face turned from caution to jolly in a matter of seconds as he let out his signature laugh.

“Ho ho ho!” he bellowed. “Well, this is odd! Shouldn’t all the little good boys and girls be asleep right now?”

“I… I was asleep… I-I think your bag woke me up when you set it down…”

“Ah! Of course! I was looking for your Christmas tree, but I can’t seem to find one. So, I was wondering where to leave your presents!”

“I don’t have a Christmas tree. I couldn’t afford one this year…” you told him, folding your arms. Wait. Why were you telling him anything?! This has to be a dream. Yes, just a drunk dream. There’s no way you could be talking to some strange man dressed as Santa Claus right now.

“I see… How unfortunate. Life must be so tough for you, Y/N L/N.”

Your eyes widened. “H-How do you know my name?”

Again, “Santa Claus”'s laugh rang throughout your tiny living room.

“Santa knows all the good boys and girls! And you have been extra good this year!” he exclaimed. He bent down and started rummaging through his bag as if he was looking for something.

Your attention snapped to your front door. You were sure that you had locked it. Squinting, you didn’t notice anything strange about it. The deadbolt was still locked. It wasn’t even left open for a clean getaway if this were an actual robbery or even a dream. None of your windows open, they’re more like decoration. It’s brutal in the summer when the building’s AC stops randomly. So how did–

“How did you get in my apartment?” 

“Santa Claus” stopped searching through his bag, but didn’t look up at you. He just… stared down into it like he didn’t want to make conversation with you.

“I don’t have a chimney. This low-rated rat hole would never give such a luxury. Plus, none of the windows open. I locked my door with a deadbolt so I would’ve definitely heard you if you had tried breaking in through the front door, not while you were looking around for a Christmas tree so… how did you get in here?”

You could feel the tension rising as silence choked the jolly air around him. After a moment, the man raised his head to look at you. You felt your blood run cold. He was smiling, but his eyes… no longer had that same twinkle in them like before.

“How do you think I got in here?” he asked stiffly. Shivers rolled down your spine and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a word. The man laughed again, but not his silly jolly laugh. It was more rigid and harsh. “I’m Santa Claus. Even if homes don’t have a chimney… I can still find my way in.”

‘Okay! I’m done with this dream now! I’d like to wake up! Wake up, me! Wake up!’

But, nothing changed. If this were a dream, something anxiety inducing would’ve happened by now. Like Santa Claus melting or turning into an eldritch monster. The air felt like it was suffocating you ever so slowly as your heart started to beat faster and faster.

“You look like you don’t believe me.” You jumped at his voice. He smiled even brighter and pointed the opening of his gift bag towards you. “Why don’t you see for yourself. I have a present here just for you.”

You swallowed hard. “A-A present…? But I–” You could barely stutter out a sentence before he spoke again.

“It’s what you deeply wished for.”

Your eyes widened again. Those choice of words… It couldn’t have been an accident. How would he… unless he…

You found yourself slowly inching towards the gift bag. It felt like an out-of-body experience. Like watching a first-person POV of someone doing something extremely stupid. As you stopped mere inches from the bag, you peered inside to see nothing but an almost seemingly amount of presents that ranged from big to small throughout the bag. Just as you tried to peek down further into the bag, you felt a large gloved hand grab the back of your neck.

“Sorry kid. No witnesses.”

Before you could utter a word or scream in shock, you are unceremoniously shoved into Santa's bulging sack of gifts. As the bag closed tight above you, your panic-filled mind finally kicked in as you screamed and thrashed around the bag. However, the more you screamed and kicked, the more the weight and closeness of the presents started to crush around you. This set in more panic and then more kicking and screaming.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be all over soon.”

‘What?! What does that mean?!’ You continued to scream and clawed at the walls of the bag to try and rip through. With a sudden jerk motion, you were lifted into the air and the bag was thrown over the man’s shoulder causing what seemed like a hurricane of presents to rain down on you. As you tried to kick up towards the opening again, you left out a gasp when your foot hit nothing. The more you kicked the more you stuffed yourself down the ocean of presents currently crushing you from all sides. When you tried to reach out to the side to claw at the bag again, you again found nothing. And again, the more you tried to reach, the more your arms got stuck wedged against the weight and size of the presents. There seemed no end as the presents continued to suffocate you, pressing hard against your stomach, legs, head, and chest.

You felt your vision starting to blacken out and called out once more.

“Please… someone… help me…”

But, your voice was too low and soon, you did not speak again.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open to see nothing but darkness all around you. You let out a grunt as your head pounded harshly only to find out that your mouth had been taped shut. 

‘What the fuck?’

You tried to take the tape off your mouth only to find your hands tied together.

‘What the fuck?’

You stretched out from your fetal only for feet to to hit a solid wall. Not only that, your feet were also bound together.

‘What the fuck?!’

You jerked up only for your head to meet a solid wall.

‘Ow! What the FUCK?!’

Your head pounded again and you laid back down trying to remember how you got in this situation. All you can remember is drinking your problems away and watching the Polar Express, and then… wishing on a plane in the sky…? And then Santa Claus showed up?

‘Ugh… fuck me… Did I sleepwalk into an empty plot again?’ You tried with all your might to try and bang on the walls of the box that you were currently in, but with this hangover all you were doing was making yourself tired and nauseous. You sighed with a huff. ‘I swear if I die in here, I’m gonna ghost sue these assholes…’

How long had you even been here? Were you even alive at this point? If you are, how long until the air in here runs out and you suffocate? Ugh… too many thoughts were making your head pound even more. Oh, what a tragic and pitiful end for our tragic and pitiful protagonist–

“Oh, wow! What a huge present!” a voice from outside shouted. You jolted in surprise. Who was that? And did they say present?

“I wonder what Santa got me~?” the voice asked melodically. Santa Claus? Wait, so… that wasn’t a dream?! The sounds of gift wrapping paper answered your question. You didn’t get super drunk and walk into a cemetery and crawl into a coffin like last time. You got super drunk and got stuffed into a giant Christmas present. You want to be disappointed with this development, but honestly you’ve found yourself in much worse situations than this. Like how on three Valentine’s Days ago you unknowingly joined a cannibal love nest cult when buying candy for yourself.

The lid of the box was aggressively thrown creaked open, revealing the most enchanting sight — you were surrounded and bathed in the glow of fairy lights. Blinking away the haze, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room, illuminated by soft, colorful lights and warm furniture. This place was definitely better than your dinky apartment. Your eyes then landed on the strikingly charming individual with the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen and an endearing yet unsettling aura seeping from him. You felt your heart skip a beat as you locked eyes with the gorgeous hottie staring you down. His cute smile was twice as blinding as the dozen of lights surrounding the two of you.

“Looks like Santa got my letter. Just what I wanted for Christmas~.”

‘Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitsholyshitholyshit–’

“Homy shmpf! Phuu’re hmpf!” You tried to shout.

Blinking a few times, the hottie deliciously chuckled and reached for the tape around your mouth. “Lemme get that for you, sweetheart. Only if you promise not to scream.”

Oh please, like you’d scream in a situation like this.

“There you go–”

“Holy shit! You’re hot!” you shout again. “Whoa… this has to be a dream. There’s no way that I’m sitting in a human sized box in a hottie’s apartment. I gotta buy more of that wine.” you muttered to yourself. You felt a tiny pinch on your cheek and snapped out of your muttering to lock eyes with those gorgeous eyes again.

“Ow… that hurt…”

“Then you’re not dreaming, sweetheart.”

“Woah…” You reeled back into the box. “I’m actually sitting in a hottie’s apartment…”

He chuckled. “House, my love. Not an apartment.”

“House?”

“Yes.”

“Like a house house? Like with a mortgage and shit?”

“The house is fully paid off. My parents paid it off and handed it to me when they retired and moved.”

“For real?!” you gasped and gasped even harder at the sights behind him. “Are those Sanrio plushies?! And a 5-foot Rilakkuma bear?! A PS5, a polaroid camera, an Apple laptop?! What are you, loaded or something?!” you exclaimed in astonishment.

“Well, it’s true that I spared no expense getting this place ready.” he chuckled again. “After all, I spent a lot of time getting all this stuff ready just in time for you.”

“For me?”

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t know what my girlfriend liked?”

You paused for a moment, soaking in his words. “Boyfriend…? Girlfriend?”

“That’s right.”

“You and me?”

“Yup.”

“Me and you?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes, my love. I was getting a little impatient waiting to take you for myself. So, I asked Santa to deliver you to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears and eyes. You wished upon a stupid star/plane, got kidnapped by Santa Claus, and got unwrapped by a gorgeous man that’s now your boyfriend. 

“Where the hell have you been hiding, huh? If I knew a hottie like you was scoping me out all this time I would’ve delivered myself without the gag and restraints.”

The hottie paused for a moment and smiled again. It seems like your reaction to all this wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’ll untie you if you promise you won’t start trying to escape.”

You scoffed and handed him your bound hands. “Oh, please. Yeah, I’m gonna escape and run back to my 250 sq. ft. apartment with no hot water, no heating, and no one waiting for me that even notices I’m gone.”

The hottie laughed softly and began to untie your hands. “And trust me. I wasn’t hiding. I left you gifts every moment I got. However, whenever I saw you, you never had them.” After untying your hands, he gave you a sullen look. “Did you not like them?”

You rubbed your wrists and titled your head in confusion. “Gifts? I never got any gifts.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ve been leaving you gifts and small tokens for two years.”

“I’m not lying! If I had gotten anything from someone like you, I would’ve been here two years ago.” you defended. “Where did you leave them?”

“On your desk at work, on your doormat, in your mailbox! I placed them everywhere you could see.”

If you weren’t so hungover you’d scream your head off. “Ugh…! Oh my fucking God…” you grumbled angrily, lightly banging your head on the corner of the box. You knew it! Your coworkers were cock-blocking you from finding true love. “All my coworkers are conniving, evil, love-hating bitches! And my boss is a misogynistic, sexual power harasser. They probably threw those presents away when I wasn’t at my desk.”

Your new boyfriend’s eyes grew dark. “What about your apartment?”

“Ugh… those animals would steal chewed up gum after you spit it out. They probably stole it while I was out at work. And my mailbox got broken into 6 months after moving in. All my bills are on autopay.”

As your boyfriend’s face grew darker, his smile remained. “Well, it’s a good thing I told them you quit and got you out of that disgusting “apartment”.”

Your mouth dropped at his words.

“R-Really? So, my job?”

“You don’t need one. I make enough money to support 5 of you. Plus, everything you could ever want is here anyways.”

“My apartment?”

“Considering most of the things in your “apartment” came from the side of the road, just tell me and I’ll buy whatever needs replacing.”

You leaned in close. “And my boss?” you whispered.

He leaned in closer, both your noses touching. “Dead, if you want him to be.”

Holy shit. Let’s go over the list.

He is: 

✔ Hot as fuck

✔ Obsessive

✔ Tall

✔ Built

✔ Has a cute smile

✔ Puppy face

✔ Not too overbearing

✔ Dommy

✔ Willing to support your lazy piece of shit lifestyle

✔ Owns a home

JACKPOT!!

“This is the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!” you shouted, but immediately regretted it when a sharp throbbing pain pierced your head. You clutched your head, tenderly rubbing your temples.

“Woah, are you okay?” he gently asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a hangover…” you smiled wearily.

“I’ll get you some water and Ibuprofen. Wait here. Don’t move, okay?”

Again, you shot him a look that told him that you didn’t have anywhere to go.

“Oh, and uh, thanks… um…”

“Karasuda Ren. But you can only call me Ren, okay Y/N?”

“Okay, Ren.” you smiled. He smiled back at you and headed to the kitchen. You sat in the box looking around at the beautiful home filled with Ren’s things combined with the things you love. If you weren’t on cloud 9 right now, you would plan a vindictive revenge plan on your job. But, now you had nothing to worry about anymore. Your wish came true and he was even cuter than you could’ve possibly imagined.

“Oh!” Ren suddenly called out. “Since you might be hungover, you probably won’t be able to eat this cake I made huh?”

“Homemade cake?! I love– Woah?!” You shot up at just the word cake and fell out of the box and face first into the floor.

“My love! Are you okay?” Ren asked, rushing to you with a glass of water in his hand.

“Yep! I’m okay! I forgot that my feet are also tied up sooo… can you help me?”

Ren laughed and helped you back on your butt and began to untie your feet. After that, he handed you the water and the bottle of Ibuprofen. Swallowing the pills dry and drinking a few gulps of water, you began to feel a little better with some water in your system now.

Just as you were about to get up, you were immediately swept off your feet and carried bridal style across the living room. You let out a tiny yelp as your head made contact with Ren’s warm chest.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Oh. Did you think I wasn’t going to hog you all to myself? You’re my Christmas present and I intend to enjoy this day and many more with you by my side.”

You felt your face burn as you were sure your face was as red as a habanero. Well, this was your Christmas wish too. It’s finally your time to enjoy the lovey-dovey part of this holiday. 

Throughout the entire day, you had never felt more love and content. Despite your initial shock, you soon got used to the huge shower of affection your new boyfriend continued to give you. Karasuda Ren, while intense and possessive, showered you with affection and attention unlike anything you had experienced before. He filled you with so much cake and food, you felt like you were gonna pop.

The loneliness that had haunted you dissipated in the wake of this blooming, although unconventional, relationship, was replaced by a new sense of belonging.

As Christmas lights flickered outside, you found yourself entangled in a love both warm and intense. The hours that passed brought a mix of emotions that you could get used to feeling everyday for the rest of your life.

This was it. Your deepest Christmas wish came true. You were finally happy. Only one question was left on your mind.

“Hey, so, how did you start liking me? Have we met before and I just didn’t pay attention or…?”

“No, we’d never even spoken to each other. About 3 years ago on Christmas Eve, I was riding the subway on my way home when I heard a bunch of drunk people get on.” Ren grimaced just remembering the situation. “I wasn’t anywhere near them, but I could smell the alcohol. I was going to change cars when I heard them start to argue with someone, I turned around and I saw you. You looked so tired and angry.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.” you hummed, trying to think back.

“I was going to step in, but you had already clocked one guy in the jaw and dropped the other guy like a sack of flour.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that now!”

“That moment, I fell in love with you at first sight. It took a while to find you again, but after I did I knew in my heart that I could never ever let you go.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, Ren! Man, I guess first impressions always stick. Kind of embarrassing that your first sighting of me was when I was drunk.”

“...You were drunk?”

“Oh, I was fucking wasted. I always get smashed on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of a tradition. I was drunk off my ass the night Santa took me too.”

“...Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“You can’t drink in front of other men. If you plan on drinking, let me know and I’ll take care of you. No one can see you drunk and vulnerable except me, okay?”

“Of course, my love! Maybe next year, you can show me where you got that kickass mulled wine from.”

“Mulled wine?”

“Yeah, that one you left on my doorstep. With the note.”

“I didn’t leave anything on your doorstep.”

“...”

“...”

“Hmm… maybe I should stop drinking random alcohol that appears next to me…”

“Y/N?!”

Bonus:

As you both were cuddled up on the couch half-asleep, watching a random Christmas movie as the fireplace crackled in the background, you were brought back to a realization. You never thanked the person that made this all possible.

You quickly got up causing Ren to jolted up at your sudden movements and stare at you wide-eyed as you made your way to his window.

“Baby, what’re you doing?” he asked cautiously with a yawn.

“I need to probably thank the person that brought us together today.”

You collapsed your hands together and smiled up at the starry-night sky, immediately catching a glimpse of the brightest twinkling star in the sky.

“Oh, you mean Santa–”

“Oh, thank you Lord Gege, you are truly my savior. If I had known praying to you would’ve gotten me results like this I would’ve prayed sooner. You are truly the ‘God of Handsome Men’.”

“Wait– what?”

“I will continue to support you and buy all of your merchandise…”

“...Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you praying to another man? While your boyfriend is right here?” You could hear the pout in his voice, but his face screamed baby-faced yandere.

You smiled and made your way back to your spot on the sofa. “Well, Lord Gege is more like a God amongst men to me now. But, of course I had to thank him.” You softly poked Ren’s puffed up cheeks. “I prayed to him the night before and he granted my wish. I am now the girlfriend to the cutest man alive!”

Ren blushed your words and decided to let your little prayer slide this time. Looks like you found the cute yandere’s weakness. Whether you decide to tease him in the future only time will tell.

—

a/n: merry christmas, my trash babies~˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i know it's been a while since i've updated, but i couldn't leave the year off without a little slight yandere fic. i was planning on uploading two fics this month, but adhd brain and procrastination are praying on my downfall. so enjoy, a cute fic with a cute soft yandere for the holidays.

happy holidays~!❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 3

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you escape and face the consequences of your actions

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

<< previous ♡ next >>

It’s cold outside, you think, and you wish you had brought a little more thought to your choice in outfit because the shirt you’re wearing does little to protect your skin from the harsh wind. You regret not finding something a little thicker, something with longer sleeves perhaps when you had raided the wardrobe earlier. You were searching for comfort, not practicality, and now that decision was coming to bite you in the ass. 

Your body carries you through the wooded area surrounding the house, brambles scratching at your arms and drawing blood. You thank your body for pumping out adrenaline once again, protecting you from feeling too much pain. You’re not sure if you’ve ever run this hard or this fast in your entire life, the burning in your lungs evident that maybe you should have focused a bit more on staying in shape. Your shoes were definitely not made for running and you add it to the list of things to curse yourself for later. 

The pavement under your feet is different from the mushy grass surrounding the SKZ base and you find yourself trying not to connect your feet as hard to the ground to make up for it, lest the burning in your legs slow you down. Wait… pavement? You slow, coming to a stop to allow yourself a moment to view your surroundings and catch your breath. 

You notice you're in the city, albeit a deserted part of it that you don't recognize. Looking left and right, you decide to go in the direction of the faded city lights. At every car that passes you hold your breath and try to sink into the bushes, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible just in case Chan is in one of the vehicles. 

Salvation comes to you in the form of a gas station, seemingly devoid of any life. As you near close, you let out a sigh of relief when you see the blinking ‘open’ sign. One person mans the register, a man in his mid-30s that doesn’t seem to pay you any mind. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey but even so you can’t find it in you to be displeased. 

“Excuse me, sir,” you say, saccharine sweet. “Do you have a phone I could borrow?” The first thing you would like to do is give your sister a phone call, to let her know you’re on the way.

“You have to buy something first,” he replies instantly, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. 

You freeze. “But… I don't have any money.” It's the truth. God knows where your phone and wallet are; you haven’t had either since you started dating Jungwon and became dependent on him for everything. 

“That's not my problem,” he says. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, inhaling the aroma of hot dogs and nacho cheese. A slushie machine whirls behind you, reds and blues that could be impossibly easy to get lost in. 

“Listen sir, I've had a rough couple of days, and I don't know where I am, and I would really appreciate it if–” 

“No, you listen, brat,” he spits the word out, finally slamming his paper down and shooting you a nasty glare. “I don't give a damn who you are, either buy something or get the Hell out of my store before I call the cops.” 

You feel inclined to listen and book it out of here but you realistically don’t have many other options. You ignore the tears threatening to spill from your lash line. If he won’t let you use the phone, the least you could do is try to figure out where you are. 

“Um… okay, how far is Second Street from here?” 

“Least three miles.” 

“Three miles? Okay. What about downtown?” 

“Still at least an hour walk.” 

“Shit, okay. Have a nice night, sir,” you say, but you don’t mean it and he doesn't deserve it. You walk out of the store nonetheless, walking on the abandoned sidewalk in the direction of the city. Your body aches and you’re not sure how far you’ve walked when you hear voices in front of you. 

There’s three men. One of them sways back and forth as he walks, obviously inebriated. Fuck. You keep your eyes glued to the sidewalk and your pace quickens, hoping that a lack of engagement will increase your luck. Maybe, just maybe for once in your life you’ll get a free pass here. Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“Hey, pretty thang. What's a girl like you doing all by yourself this late at night?” The man nudges his friend, the noticeably drunker one. 

“I don't want any trouble,” you mumble, pushing forward. 

A large unwelcoming hand reaches out to grab your wrist and you shout out in pain. Broken. Despite the ice and bandage wrapped around your appendage, your wrist is still broken. 

“What wash that? I think she said she wantshta show ush a good time!” He slurs, and anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re starting to get really tired of the feeling. 

“Let me go, please!” Your other hand gripped the offender’s, placing it over his tight grasp. 

You're shoved to the ground, knees scraping against the sidewalk. Your breath is caught in your throat, and the scene is all too familiar. 

“Come on bunny, don't you want to play?” A hand grips around your throat, and you feel like prey. How they managed to find the parts of you that were weak and vulnerable, you had no clue. Men like this just had a knack for being awful like that. A hand snakes in your hair and grabs tight, and you’re reminded of just days ago being in this exact situation. 

“Look, she’s crying!” one of them coos. You let out a loud sob and think, God, I’m going to die here. How you always have a knack for making wrong decisions, you’ll never know. 

“Let her go.” Your eyes shoot open when you hear a familiar deep voice. Instead of being filled with fear at finally being caught, you can’t help but to feel relieved. 

“Felix!” you cry out. You try to crane your head to look at him but the man’s grip on your hair is too tight. 

“Let her go? Why? We were having a good time!” One of them laughs and you feel his grip on you tighten. You whimper in pain. “Do you wanna join in?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything, but you hear a soft, mechanical clicking sound. It’s too silent and you’re afraid that you know the reason why. Your eyes stay closed but you’re free, suddenly. As you begin to fall you brace to hit the concrete but you’re surprised when you don’t. A warm and steady arm wraps around your middle and you relax into Felix as the men scamper away. 

“He's fucking crazy, man. The bitch isn't worth it.” And like that, they are gone. You allow yourself to glance down at Felix and the gun he is holding, but you aren't intimidated anymore. He has gotten rid of the real threat. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, not looking at you. You swallow, hating to be the target of his disappointment. The gun is put away and forgotten about and you slump out his grasp and onto the concrete. You shake your head at him, trying to indicate that you are okay, you’re not seriously hurt, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Instead he ushers you into a car that you hadn’t even noticed had appeared, obviously too caught up in the situation at hand. He opens the door for you and you climb in, noticing that he sits in the passenger seat, not the driver’s. You furrow your brow until you recognize Hyunjin in the driver’s seat, tapping furiously on the wheel. On your left you recognize the broad frame as Changbin, who seems to be more distressed than anyone else in the car. You hope for silence, but once again, you can never be so lucky. 

“How do you always manage to get yourself into such trouble?” Hyunjin laughs. He irritates you to no end, always so sure of himself and full of it. “First Jungwon, us, and now these thugs? Do you have a knack for finding trouble or does trouble find you?” You notice Felix tense, and you decide staying in silence is probably better to not irritate the men further. You look out the window instead as the car speeds off. 

Hyunjin continues, “Normally Chan would want us to blindfold you if we were taking you back to our place, but he told us not to bother this time. He seems incessant that there’s no reason to.” Does he ever shut up? “Expect for him to be pissed. He knew you were going to leave, though.” 

Now that was enough to break your silence. 

“He knew?” you ask, incredulous. 

“Of course. It was a test, after all. To see where your loyalties lie, if he threatens you and tells you not to escape, you’re much more likely to leave right after because you think you can get away with it.” Shit. Now you feel dumb. But instead of letting on, you scoff and turn your head back to the window, finding the view much more interesting. You’re shivering still from the cold despite the heat pumping through the air vents. Felix wordlessly takes off his coat and hands it to you, and while you want to be proud and reject the offer you can’t help but want for this chill in your bones to go away. His jacket is warm and you can smell the trace of his cologne, floral, like jasmine yet earthy.  

You couldn’t have been in the car for more than ten minutes, and you curse yourself, realizing that you really didn’t get as far as you thought. 

Then, you approach a long driveway, adorned with a large iron gate that would intimidate anyone that made it to this part of the city, encased in grime and rust that’s indicative of its age. The car drives down the winding roads with familiarity which puts you at ease and keeps you from feeling nauseous, which you feel grateful for. When you arrive at the front of the house, you are finally given the opportunity to take a look at where you have been staying, as previous circumstances hadn’t allowed you to do so. 

The exterior of the house is a little dreary, the age of the cracked brick and marble noticeable. Even in the dark you could tell everything else is well-taken care of, well-trimmed shrubbery and flower beds surprising you. You don’t get as much time to look around as you would like, though you do notice the sheer size of the house as you follow the men up the gravel pathway. Large front doors open up and you’re guided inside. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You and Felix walk in silence to your room. You’re almost ashamed to meet his eye. 

“How did you know where to find me?” you finally ask. 

“I came to bring you this,” he says, gesturing to what he had been holding. A hard brace for your wrist. “When I came to your room and you weren’t there, I panicked. You couldn’t have gotten far, but we jumped in the car right away.” 

“But… What about what Hyunjin said?” You ask. Meanwhile he starts to unwrap the bandage on your wrist, revealing the very swollen and purple affected area. You wince slightly. 

“About it being a test? I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re probably in deep shit with Chris.” He says. You notice that he uses a nickname when referring to the man but you don’t say anything. He pulls out a first aid kit and starts to sanitize the surface of your skin and it stings more than you’d like to admit. Still, he does so delicately, making sure his fingers don’t press onto your injury too harshly. “I didn’t think you would leave,” he admits. “It was really stupid, you do realize that, right? I was just… really hoping you would be smarter than that.” 

You scoff. “Stupid, got it. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to stay trapped with the mafia, but I saw my opportunity. I have a life out there I want to get back to! I can’t stay here for the rest of my life.” 

“That may be true, but you won’t have a life to get back to if you’re killed the moment you leave,” he points out. “I’m not trying to be malicious, but you have a huge target on your back. Even if it’s not Jungwon who comes for you, you’re affiliated with ENHA. People who are not as kind as we are will see you as a way to get to him and they’ll kill you in cold blood.” He delicately places the new brace onto your wrist, strapping it shut tight. You try not to think about how his touch lingers on your skin, that you can still feel where he touched you and how it makes your face heat up. Instead you try to flex your wrist to test the brace, finding that it provides enough support for you not to move it too intensely. Felix hums in approval. 

“Come with me,” he says. He takes you to the bathroom and gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid. You do, looking up at him inquisitively. You see that he has brought the first aid kit with him and he’s keen on tending to your other injuries. 

“I just don’t understand,” you say, breaking the silence. He takes an antiseptic wipe and starts to wipe away scratches on your head. “Just… Why do you care if I live or die?” 

“That’s a tough one,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking. “I guess you can say I don’t like Yang Jungwon. Our feud with them has lasted for several years and he’s just a nuisance. He kills people in cold blood and is remorseless. I’m sure you’ve seen it first hand just how manipulative he can be, and we really just want to make sure that he doesn’t do anything to undermine us. That being said, you’re a benefit to SKZ. I know you might not see it yet, but you might be the ticket we need to finally one-up them. If you’re dead then we’re back to an even playing field.” 

“What about the infiltration? Don’t you have plans with Lee Know?” you ask. 

“Oh, Minho? He’s a very skilled person, he excels at this kind of thing. We’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and we finally have an opportunity to do so. I hear that they’re planning to start up an underground drug-ring, something that would put us both in the public eye more than we want. Minho is going to try to find out what he can about it and then we can proceed.” 

Felix bends down, kneeling before you. Your breath hitches before you can think about it; it’s not fitting for someone who looks so majestic to be below you, you think. 

He starts to clean the scrapes on your knees. They’re bloody and raw from your fall and you’re only now starting to feel the aftereffects from it. You’re grateful that he’s taking the time to tend to your injuries, scanning your entire body from head to toe until he’s content. “You’re too good for all of this,” he finally says. “Someone like you should have never gotten involved in our lifestyle. You have so much potential, I can just see it. How did you even get stuck in this life?” The question is so intimate that it takes you a moment to process that he asked it. 

“I didn’t know who he was when I started dating him,” you admit. “Like you said, he’s manipulative. He’s mastered the art of deception. When I met him, he was charming and sweet, you know? It feels dumb to say, but by the time he admitted to me he was part of the mafia, I was head over heels in love with him. By the time I realized that the Jungwon I knew was just a facade it was too late, he caused me to completely rely on him for everything. I lost everything, Felix.” He nods in understanding, looking up at you before he stiffens. 

“Your neck… Did he do that, too?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his voice. You realize that the makeup you applied so diligently before must have completely rubbed off by now. You sigh. 

“Yeah. The night Chan found me, Jungwon and I got into a fight. It was my fault, but he threatened me, and it got physical, and…” 

“I don’t know what happened, but I severely doubt it could have been your fault,” he says. You decide not to divulge the details of your argumentThis is the first time you have admitted the situation out loud, and you feel very vulnerable. For some reason, you really want to tell Felix, despite the tears threatening to spill from your lashes. 

“He knocked me unconscious outside of the club, and when I woke up, I was here.” He finishes bandaging up your injuries and he stands, stretching his back and popping his joints. There’s blood on his white dress shirt. Your blood, though you don’t remember how it got there. 

“When you left tonight, where were you planning to go? You weren’t going–” 

“Not back to him, God no. Um… I have a sister, I was just trying to get in touch.” He seems content with your answer. You wonder if he’s just going to relay all of that information back to Chan. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, though, so you can’t really bring yourself to care. 

“I don’t know how long you’re going to be here. But for now, this is the safest place for you. So, try not to do anything else that’s stupid.” He turns to the door to leave, but you find yourself calling out. 

“Felix?” He halts and his eyes meet yours as you call his name. “Thank you.” There’s a lot of meaning to convey with just two words, but you hope you get your point across; thank you, for saving my life, for talking with me, for treating my wounds. He seems to understand. He graces you with a small smile before leaving 

You take a minute to breathe and look at yourself in the mirror. You are definitely not the same person you were two days ago. You smile at the reflection of yourself that has been beaten and bruised, and you hardly recognize her. You open the door to retreat to your bedroom for the night, but are shocked by what you see. 

For the second time in one night, Bang Christopher Chan sits on your bed, waiting expectantly. 

“We need to talk,” he says. 

He looks pissed. His glare sends shivers straight up your spine, and it takes everything for you to not break down and cry on the spot. It makes you feel guilty for everything that happened tonight, but you have to shake that thought. You were justified, you need to stand strong. You sit on the bed next to him without him gesturing for you to do so, as it feels like what he wants. You aren’t stupid enough to disobey him again. 

You look him in the eye. 

“I’d like to think I’m a kind person,” he says. “I don’t ask much of you–”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. 

“Speak when spoken to. I won’t tell you again.” He clears his throat. “I don’t ask much of you. In fact, I gave you just two, simple, commands that you couldn’t be bothered to follow. Do not contact Yang Jungwon, and do not leave. What did you do?” He looks at you but you stay silent. “Answer.” 

“I left.” 

“That’s right. You must be pretty stupid, Y/N. Stupid enough to somehow end up here, and even more stupid to disobey me. I knew you were going to try to push your luck,” he says. “Explain yourself.” 

“I…” you gulp. You decide honesty is the best way to go about this. “I got scared. I know you told me not to leave and I didn’t listen, and I truly apologize but I remembered how trapped I felt when I was with Jungwon, and, well… the prospect of staying here for the rest of my life really really scared me.  I wanted to see my sister and tell her I’m alright. My phone is gone, and she probably thinks I’m dead. I envisioned a world where I  never got to see her again and make things right, and I thought this would be my only chance.” 

He sits in silence for a moment, contemplating. “This will be the last time I extend such kindness to you,” he says slowly. “From here on, I want your complete loyalty to me and the rest of SKZ.I will ensure your safety from ENHA and any potential threat. For now, that’s all you need. If you try to undermine me one more time, I will make sure you never see your sister again. Take that any way you want.” He stands. 

“Hyunjin said that this was a test,” you say cautiously. “Are you going to punish me?” 

“I thought I made myself very clear that there would be consequences to your actions,” he says. “I will go lightly on you, just this time. I’m being very nice, just so you are aware: I am not usually known by others as a kind person.” He sighs. “Pick a number between one and ten.” 

“Um… five?” you say, trying to play it safe and pick a number that’s not too high and not too low. His hands slide down to his waistband, unbuckling his belt and taking it out of the loops. 

“Lift your shirt up and turn around.” 

You do, with shaky hands, turn around and lift your shirt up so just your back is revealed to Chan. You don’t protest, worrying that that could somehow make things worse. 

You steady your breath and brace for impact. 

Thwack. 

One time, Chan’s leather belt comes down and hits the skin of your back hard. It’s obvious he has no intention of holding back and it stings; you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress your cries. 

Thwack. 

The second time, just as hard. 

Five times Chan hits you hard with your belt and you can’t hold back your tears any longer, though you do stay strong in the decision to not let him see them. After the fifth hit, you stand and pull down your shirt. 

“Rest up,” he tells you. “Tomorrow you’ll meet everyone else.” 

It’s stupid of you to think about, but you practically disregarded the fact that there are other members you have not met yet. You’re not entirely looking forward to it, though you don’t say so.  

“Does everyone know?” you ask him just as he’s about to leave. “Does everyone know that I’m associated with Jungwon?” 

“Everyone knows,” he confirms. “I trust my group implicitly. I felt no need to hide it from them, though at this point I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of.” You nod your head at the information, lost in thought. 

Then Chan leaves and you’re finally alone. When you lie down in bed you finally take note of how your body feels after all this time. Every muscle aches and you can’t lay down on your back and once again you ignore the incessant throbbing in your skull. When you lay down in the bed to sleep, it’s on the comfiest, most luxurious mattress that you’ve ever laid on. You stare at the wall until you drift off with a dreamless yet peaceful sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.6

TW: torture, mention of rape

prev part. first part

"I guess we need to talk, Johnny." You looked at him, and the incredible feeling of guilt consumed your stomach. How could you believe a random girl over Johnny?

"Yeah, I guess we need to hen." he said while rubbing the stubbles on his chin. The last week was the most chaotic in his life. He thought he had lost you for good, and when Kyle told him that crazy whore was in your apartment, it was over. That was a line he thought she wouldn't cross. You were a civilian, an innocent civilian who got into this shit because of him. 

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, hen." 

Both of you apologized at the same time, getting a confused look out of each other. "What're you sorry for, Bonnie?"

"I believed her. I believed that you would cheat on me."

"I didn't explain it, did I?"

„No," he told the truth. He didn't deny anything, but you maybe still should have asked yourself if it was the truth. The guilt ate you alive.

"I'm sorry for getting that crazy bitch in your life; did she hurt you?" He took your hand in his, examining if any new bruise or scar was there. 

"Physically no"

"Hen" 

"I love you, Johnny, you know."

"Of course I know; I love you too."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

He nodded and started to explain how he woke up and didn't know what happened, how he felt guilty and hated himself, how John took the fall for everything, how he realized that she raped him, how she accused him of raping her, and how she made him believe no one would ever believe him. How he wanted to tell you everything, and then that slag turned everything around, convincing him that no one would believe him, and finally how Simon believed him and how he opened up. Your heart broke into a million pieces hearing what she did to your poor Johnny.

“You didn't deserve that love.“

„I know I still feel dirty, you know." You knew the feeling all too well, but you didn't know right now what you could do to make it better, so you just took him in your arms, caressing the soft edges of his Mohawk. „You're not dirty, Johnny; her action doesn’t define you." You held Johnny the whole time while he was crying in your arms. ——————————————————————————   This wasn’t the first time, neither for John nor Ghost, but it was never this personal. They had never had as much fun as this time. Ghost already pulled her on a chair, tying her wrists and legs, not giving a fuck about her pleas that it was too tight and hurting her; they were a long time over having any pity for her. 

„We can make it quick or painful, your choice," John spoke, trying to appear as the good cop in this interrogation. His heart wanted to rip her apart in the most inhuman way possible, but first, he needed some information.

„I don't want to die, please. I only meant good." Simon didn't hesitate to slap her right across the face.

„Don't lie.“

„I didn't lie; you would be better off without her.“

„Bad mistake, Ghost doesn’t like when someone talks badly about our girl,“ John huffed, taking a drag on his cigar while sitting on a chair.

„What do you think, boss, should I cut a finger off or break her arm?“ She was panting heavily, the sweat already dripping down her neckline, while she only stared in horror at them. She begged and pleaded, but how many of her victims did it too? How many were even able to remember a thing?

„No, no Ghost we play nice just like her,“ John said with a grin, pulling out three pills from his pocket. Thankfully, the nurses on base didn't have a good opinion of the medic.

Ghost took the pills, putting them in front of her eyes. "Choose. "

„What are these?“ She knew, but her mind didn't want to comprehend what they wanted from her.

„I think the same one you used on me, the other is used for assisted death, and the third one I forgot something with internal bleeding.“ 

„They look the same.“ 

„Choose or I will make you choose." Before the medic argued, Ghost already had all three pills in his hand, pushing them into her mouth.

„I choose this one,“ her eyes watering as she pointed to the left pill. If she were, by any chance, smarter, she would have known she wouldn’t come out alive.

With trembling fingers, she pushed it down her throat. As she felt the numbness starting in her fingers, she couldn’t stop smiling. She made the right choice. 

„They were all the same,“ John replied unapologetically. He didn't want to do this too messy; he only wanted the needed information and then would break her neck; he deserved the right after all. 

„You bastard“ This earned another punch from Simon.

"Let's see how you like being paralyzed. Did you enjoy seeing your victims squirm in fear?“

„Please don't“

„Oh, afraid I'll rape you.“

„Don't worry, Ghost wouldn’t even rape you out of spite.“

„You're so pathetic. Do you need to drug people to get a lay? I bet you're already wet thinking about me touching you. Will only touch my girl.“

„We need to know with how many people you did that stunt?“

„Only you and Johnny, I swear.“

„You swear?“ John stood up, took his cigar, and flicked it close between her thighs, seeing how the heat burned her thighs closer to her core. “It isn't fun to be so helpless? Now tell me the truth.“

She cried and still denied the truth of the sick games she pulled over all these years: „Guess you didn't want the nice way, my turn cap." Ghost grumbled pulling out his favorite knife, a beautiful gift from you. He cherished dearly and he thought you should have had the right to partake in her downfall after all.

The burn of the cigar was long forgotten when Simon slowly craved letter after letter in her skin, taking slow movements as if he were performing in a calligraphy contest. Letter for letter, the red blood dried down on Simon's pale skin, the screams were like music in his ears. He finally had what he wanted: Revenge. He dreamt of it when he saw his father abusing his mother when he met Roba when he heard your past story, and now he finally got it. He could finally protect his loved ones.

„Beautiful, isn’t it, Cap?“

"You could improve your handwriting the letters are slacking a bit.“ 

„You're right, Captain, need to write a few rows more." After the fifth letter, she finally confessed.

„How many“

„I have a list on my phone,“ she cried while Ghost pulled out the phone, finding the list with her guidance. Ghost saw a lot of cruel things in his life, but the visuals on the list made him almost puke: several videos of abused unconscious men and women, their names, and the date all written under them—disgusting. When he saw the picture of Johnny, it was enough for him, and he snapped her neck.

„I'm sorry, Captain.“

„I would have done it if you weren’t faster.“

„What will we do about this?“

„The right thing.“

———————————————————————————— 1 year later

Johnny found peace after consulting a therapist for a year straight, with the support of his beautiful girlfriend and boyfriends. John and Ghost took the list and spoke with all the remaining victims, taking her life insurance money and splitting it amongst the victims. It was nothing that could redeem the situation. Still, they did everything so every one of her victims could afford and participate in the needed therapy, even spreading awareness of male SA survivors in the military with Laswell's help. Your relationship surprisingly grew stronger after the incident, and the bond and trust were only tighter. So here, where you cuddled in a big cuddle pile with your men and Winston, you were finally at peace again.

Taglist: @cod-z , @kaoyamamegami, @postmortem-angel, @jackrabbitem , @sseleniaa , @thigh-o-saur , @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

@thychuvaluswife @cutiecusp @blackhawkfanatic @spicyspicyliving @octopiys

A/N: wrote this half asleep so sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes Im not the best at writing torture Im more of an angst girly hope you still enjoyed it.

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

A/N 2: Don't read further if you don't want to know anything about the author

So sorry that I posted this Chapter 1 month after the last, my last month was kinda weird. Had a theoretical final exam(passed with an A and an B) , lots of interviews- but hey I got one thing (not my dream thingy but still good), had lots of stress at work and unregular plans like one day night the next early :( So it took a lot of motivation to finally finish this and get back into writing regularly.