#but yet again that could just be the drug

[videokilled]

Vox watched his companion closely after his own slip up. Near disastrous. And even now he could still feel his nerves buzzing with the manic energy the drug was seeping into his bloodstream. He had intended to go back to the kitchen for more- but after that- Vox was thinking about heading the other’s warning a bit closer.

Going easy on it. It had been several days. It wasn’t just a top off. It was more like ending a tolerance break.

He blinked several times and shook his head like he had hair in his face. Focus focus. Cool, calm, in control.

Vox smoothed his sweater down needlessly, and moved toward the bathroom to take his turn in getting ready. He didn’t have any products or pampering items but the hotel had a few staples.

He washed his face for the first time in a century or so which felt weird. Then used the water to try and smooth his hair back. Hoping it would dry how he wanted it too.

The one piece that was partially streaked red wouldn’t stay though. Insistent on leaning forward. The underside bright hibiscus red, and that made his blue brown hair look even more raven shaded by contrast.

Vox gave up after a few more tries grumbling about it and moved back out into the room with his posture much more alike how it was in hell. It felt weird getting ready without wearing a suit. He kept wanting to reach up and fix his bow tie or make sure his suit collar was sitting correctly since he couldn’t feel it.

He came back out to Alastor dropping the towel and starting to get dressed. A smarmy little smile snuck up despite himself, sparing an extra long glance before he finally continued his move into the kitchen. Taking a quick shot of the whiskey they had on the counter. (For the vitamins.) Then scrounged for his cigarettes and lighter before making his way back into the main room.

Just in time for the unexpected bomb that was going back— it jarred him how much it felt….. well jarring to think about.

Back to his routine. His head rejoiced. His safety. His control. His tools and influence and tower- and Val.

Why did it make his chest pinch like that. So much so that he stammered again.

“Ah.. ahyes.”

Or his company would be in shambles. Or it wouldn’t be a return to the comfort of his routine at all.

Vox seemed to visibly fight a panicked thought off. Unaware of it showing so pristinely on his face- even now. His own hand moved up to bracket against his temple. His pupils moving around like they were trying to avoid making eye contact with his thoughts.

“Yesyes..” he said again after he realized he didn’t even have any information to find out when would be the best time to plan their return anyway. What if now was the best time. Well they couldn’t go now. They could- he could- their contract was done. He had said three to five days. It had been three. And yet- he was drawn to this… isolated little cycle they had. It felt surreal. Untouchable.

But it would end. It also dawned on him he wished he would have appreciated it more. But that was much too sappy for Vox the media demon.

“Uh— excuse me.” He muttered like he had sneezed instead of verbally and physically zoned out.

“Whenever your business is complete. I won’t have you blaming me for cutting it short.” He added but it sounded dry and edgeless.

Then Vox lit his cigarette and seemed to once again bounce right back into his smooth recovery after the nicotine hit his lungs.

That one rogue hair leaning forward over his eyebrow like a red banner.

“So these that we’re visiting now- they live in an apartment..? Who are we hoping to find?” He exhaled his cloud

“Or is it the building…”

It was Vox’s turn to give a loud boisterous laugh as he watched the other scurry away like they hadn’t just slept, fucked, and then slept again stark naked. It was cute.

He paused to scrutinize his thoughts once Alastor was gone.

“And you’re weak.” He muttered to himself under his breath.

Vox pulled the cabinet open and pulled the little baggies out.

Oh bless that silly deer. There was a few options too.

He carried the baggy into the kitchen, still naked. He should probably get dressed. But this was absolutely priority.

Taking drugs has a tv, as one could imagine, involved some creativity. (He usually just ate it and damned be the consequences.) But as a person there was a right way to do things. So he did.

Making a little prep area and then pulled it right up through his nose. It had been- a hot century or so since he had done that. The dizziness hit him like a freight train but he just found himself giggling with the adrenaline. Then got more of the powder ready— space it out save some for later.

He paced around for a second. Pushed his hair back with both hands. Then found his clothes. And moved them to a different chair. Intent on getting dressed. At least soon. Vox put his boxers on.. Then pushed his hair back. Walked to the bathroom and peaked just enough to check on Alastor (see if he was still there.) Then walked away to the window. It was a nice view..

And walked back to the kitchen. That was long enough. The effects in snorting it weren’t immediate- but the adrenaline of doing it- and the anticipation was more than enough to get him going.

He pulled more up into his nose.. just a little bit. And started walking around again. Usually he had his phone to occupy him. Go cyberbully some people or wreak some havoc on Velvette’s socials. But he had nothing.

Vox walked back over to his clothes, taking a very deep breath, and started getting dressed. He only got as far as his socks and buttoning his pants up- when he paused again to go walk by the bathroom again.. just to make sure the other was still there. Not lingering really. Just enough to glimpse. Then back to his clothes.

They had poked a lot of angelic bears in the past few days. It had him thinking about his own contract barriers. He was skating closer and closer to them.

He finished getting dressed as Alastor came back out. All fresh and clean his deep skin glistening with the water flecks.

Vox’s mouth watered. But that didn’t mean anything.

He was fixing his cuffs as he approached the other.

“No no- relax with the cheating- I can’t skirt much closer to..” Vox did a very weird seemingly involuntary and unexpected pause and swallow. The drugs making him careless with his own secrets briefly. Depending on Alastor’s perceptiveness he might recognize the sort of loss of autonomy to keep talking.

It was over as fast as Vox could move on.

He waved one hand flippantly,

“They’re clean. I like my Voxtek sweater too much. I sent them to be laundered while you were in your shower.” Maybe a compliment would distract- and turned his back casually to retrieve the other’s pressed clothes that had been folded and left in the foyer. Previously intent on just gesturing. Now he wanted to fetch them.

He placed the stack on the bed when he returned and went back to fixing his other sleeve. Hoping they wouldn’t linger. It was one thing to weed out Alastor’s contracts- but he didn’t want his own skeletons toppling out of his closet.

[jksarchives]

TOO LATE

Even after all the promises he made, Jungkook was too late.

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; angst, light fluff

➪ TAGS/WARNINGS; mafia au, ANGST, blood, violence, attempted sa (not in detail), use of weapons, major character death, swearing, light fluff

➪ WORDCOUNT; 12.3k

𐚁₊⊹

You sat at the dinner table alone — again. The food that was once warm was now completely cold and untouched on your plate. The atmosphere around you felt heavy. The familiar silence continued to outstretch and the only sound that accompanied you was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

The bodyguards stationed in the corners of the dining hall remained expressionless as they stood like statues. You were beginning to get sick of their presence and how it constantly reminded you of the world your fiancé belonged to. A world that you had stepped into because of love, but now, you weren’t sure if love was enough to keep you there.

It was the fifth time this week that you ate dinner alone. It was becoming a routine you didn’t sign up for. On normal days, Jungkook would sit across from you and tease you about the way you always saved your favorite bite for last, or playfully steal food off your plate.

Meal times were your little escape. It was a time when Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the feared leader of a ruthless mafia gang, but just your Jungkook — the man who would hold your hand under the table and kiss you between bites when he’d get the chance.

But lately, he’d been distant. His seat was empty more often than you were used to, and his presence was fading like a dream slipping through your fingers.

Jungkook wasn’t just any ordinary man. He was a king in the underworld. He was a leader that commanded respect and instilled fear in those who considered themselves fearless. He built his empire on discipline and strategy, knowing how to put people in their place without mercy.

He never harmed the innocent though, but when it came to threats, he was quick and remorseless. Drugs, weapons, and underground dealings — he was entangled in all of it. He moved each piece like a master chess player. He lost count of the number of enemies he made along the way, men who wanted nothing more than to see him fall from his grace. But Jungkook was always one step ahead of them. He always prepared with his mind sharper than any blade.

To the world, he was cold, ruthless, and terrifying. His eyes alone were enough to make someone’s legs tremble, or in most cases, wet their pants. He was like a shadow that lingered over the city, and his name was usually whispered in fear.

But to you, he was different.

When it came to you, Jungkook’s walls would fall apart. The hardness in his gaze would melt the moment he would see you. His dark eyes would soften in a way they never did for anyone else. You were his only safe space. Only you could ground him to his senses and to gain control of himself again.

He adored you, and protected you with a devotion that sometimes felt overwhelming. The only reason he had so many bodyguards surrounding you was because of the countless threats he faced daily. Losing you was the one nightmare he couldn’t afford.

You were his world, his universe.

And yet, despite his love for you, you saw the side of him that people knew him for. The side of him that made others fear him. You saw what he was capable of and how easily he could take a life when it was necessary.

Jungkook tried not to scare you off or worry you by coming home covered in blood. But the days where he would, the scent of iron that clung to his clothes was sickening in many ways. He never let his victims go easily, and that was the scariest part of loving him. No matter how gentle he was with you, you couldn’t ignore the darkness beneath his skin.

You knew people whispered about you behind closed doors, calling you insane for staying by his side. Loving a man like Jungkook was dangerous. But despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

Maybe they were right. Maybe you were insane.

Jungkook was always busy, but he was never too busy for you. He would make time, whether it was a quick coffee break together or late-night conversations in bed when the rest of the world was asleep.

But lately, things had changed. As his nights grew longer, his time with you became shorter. You saw that stress was wearing him down, and with each day that passed, he became more distant.

But to you, it wasn’t the lack of time — it was his attitude.

He was different now, or rather, colder. Some nights, he wouldn’t even bother coming to bed, and choose to drown himself in work instead. And when he did, he was exhausted and barely spoke a word to you before drifting off into another cycle of restless sleep.

Other times, he would lash out and let his frustration spill over onto you in sharp words and tense silences. He was never physically violent — Jungkook would rather die than hurt you that way — but his emotional distance was hurting you just as deep.

At first, you brushed it off, assuming he was stressed and had too much on his plate. He would usually come back to you when things settled down. But as the days passed, you realised the hurt was sinking in.

You missed him. You missed the version of him who would hold you in his arms and promise to keep you safe, who would kiss your lips forehead and tell you how much he loved you. You missed the way he used to smile at you like you were his entire world.

Now, it felt like he was drifting away from you, and you didn’t know how to hold on.

A part of you wanted to confront him and demand to know what was going on. But another part of you — the part that saw his darkest side — hesitated. You weren’t afraid of Jungkook, but you were afraid of pushing him further away.

So you stayed silent, and swallowed the loneliness that was slowly suffocating you.

As you sat there at the empty dinner table, staring at the untouched food, you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay.

And more than that. You wondered if Jungkook even noticed that you were hurting.

You were tired of Jungkook’s attitude. Tired of the way he barely spared you a glance when he was home. Tired of feeling like you were the only one holding onto this relationship while he let it slip through his fingers. You tried to be understanding, tried to be patient, but the loneliness was eating you alive.

It wasn’t just about him being busy anymore. It was about how he treated you. The hurtful words, the cold silences, the way he acted like your presence was an afterthought. You weren’t asking for much, just a little bit of his time, a moment where he could look at you like he used to, where you could feel like you mattered.

But it had been weeks since you had last felt his warmth. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You decided that tonight, when he came home, you would talk to him. No more bottling up your emotions, no more pretending you were okay when you weren’t. You needed to know where you stood in his life.

At the same time, you prayed he wouldn’t lash out.

Your appetite was long gone at this point. You got up from the chair with your untouched plate of food and walked into the kitchen. You felt drained and your heart heavy with everything you had been suppressing for too long. You didn’t even notice Jungkook entering the house.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, his sharp eyes landed on you just as you were dumping your food into the bin.

“Seriously, Y/n?” he spoke up. “Wasting food again? Why the hell do you even cook if you’re not going to eat?” he said in irritation.

Your body tensed at his words, and slowly, anger flared inside you. You spun around and placed the plate into the sink with more force than necessary, and the loud clatter echoed in the kitchen. Your patience finally ran out.

“You tell me, Jungkook,” you snapped as your eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Why am I doing this? Why do I sit at that damn table every night, waiting for you like a fool? Why do I keep hoping you’ll come home and actually spend time with me?” your voice cracked with frustration and hurt.

“Fuck, I’m not doing this with you anymore” Jungkook let out a long sigh, and ran his tattooed hand through his already disheveled hair before turning away, as if he had no energy to argue. But that only fueled your anger even more.

“Do what?” you snapped, “have a decent and mature conversation?”

You clenched your fists. “You know what, Jungkook? I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of your attitude. I get that you’re busy, I get that your world is dangerous, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like this. I’m not your enemy. I’m not someone you can just ignore until it’s convenient for you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but you pushed forward because you were unable to stop the words spilling from your lips. “All I want is for you to spare some time for me. Just a little. Because I miss you. I miss us. Why can’t you understand that?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, as if he was barely holding onto his patience. “Like I said, Y/n, I’m not doing this with you. I don’t have time for this. I have another mission to go to” his voice was firm and cold, but the worst part was the way he wouldn’t even look at you.

“I want you to stay in the house. Don’t go out. Understand me?” it was only then when his dark eyes finally met yours. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach twist. A warning almost.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Another mission? Seriously? Again?” your voice was rising now, the pain overtaking your restraint.

“What the hell is up with you lately? We’ve been together for almost seven years, and I’ve never seen you like this!”

Jungkook’s expression hardened, but you pressed on. “Please,” your voice softened, cracking towards the end.

“I just want to spend time with you. It’s been so long, Jungkook. I miss you. I miss your kisses. I miss your warmth and your stupid little jokes” your eyes shimmered with tears while your chest ached. “I don’t need grand gestures, I just need you. Can’t you give me that?”

For a split second, something sort of guilt and regret flickered in Jungkook’s eyes. You weren’t sure. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by frustration.

“Well, I can’t fucking be there for you twenty-four-seven Y/n!” he snapped. “I have important things to take care of! I run a mafia gang, do you get that? I have responsibilities that you can’t even begin to understand!”

You flinched at the venom in his words, but he wasn’t done.

“Why can’t you just understand that? Why do you have to be so needy and clingy every single day?” his voice kept rising. “Just get over it already!”

His words hit you harder than any bullet ever could.

Needy. Clingy. As if wanting to be with him was a burden. As if your love, your presence, was nothing but an inconvenience.

You stared at him as your heart shattered into a million pieces, and in that moment, you realised something. You weren’t sure if the man standing in front of you was the same Jungkook you had fallen in love with.

And worse. You weren’t sure if you could keep waiting for him to come back.

But there’s always a second side of a story.

Two weeks ago, a small group of Jungkook’s highly skilled men were shot down by a rival gang in a brutal ambush that shook the very foundation of his organisation. Since then, he had been working tirelessly to track them down. He spent sleepless nights planning counterattacks, calling in reinforcements, and trying to ensure the safety of what remained of his team.

But with that responsibility came an unbearable level of stress, and that stress had started to take a toll on him. He became more irritable and more distant. His patience wore thinner each day, and when he wasn’t out dealing with gang matters, he spent what little time he had at home in a constant state of frustration. The worst part was that you became an unintentional victim of his temper.

You tried to be understanding. You knew his world was dangerous and the pressure he was under. But that didn’t make it any easier when he lashed out at you. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he acted like you were just another problem on his never-ending list of things to deal with.

And tonight was no different.

The moment the words left his mouth, you felt the sting of them like a slap. You flinched slightly, and your body tensed as your vision blurred with more tears.

Jungkook’s anger wavered when he saw your expression shift. He didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. He didn’t mean to let his exhaustion get the better of him. But it was too late. Your heart was already breaking.

Tears finally began to cascade down your cheeks, and the sight made Jungkook curse under his breath. He hated seeing you cry. He hated being the reason for your pain, yet lately, it felt like he was doing nothing but hurting you. That realisation made his chest twist with an ache that wasn’t just guilt but something more. Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Sighing, he took a slow step towards you. You instinctively took a small step back, but he closed the distance before you could put any real space between you. His large hands reached out, and he hesitated for a brief second before finally cupping your face gently.

His calloused fingers brushed against your soft skin as he wiped the tears from your cheeks, his touch softer than his words had been moments ago.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice now quieter and gentler.

You hesitated but slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. His dark eyes, though still clouded with fatigue, now held regret. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against your damp skin.

“I didn’t mean to say any of that. You know how busy and stressed I am. It’s not that I don’t want to make time for you…” his voice trailed off for a moment before he sighed again.

“I just…don’t know how to balance everything right now.”

Jungkook let out another deep sigh as his hands moved to hold you by the waist, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know it’s not a good reason to lash out at you like that. I’m really sorry for that baby. You know I love you” his dark eyes searched yours, like he silently pleaded for your forgiveness.

“I know how much you miss me and need me,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trust me, I do too. But once everything is settled down, you can have me all you want. I swear baby” his thumb gently brushed over your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears.

“But for now…I have to fix things first. You just have to wait a little longer for me.” Jungkook was beyond exhausted. It was obvious he was drowning under the pressure of his responsibilities.

“You know I want to keep you safe from all these bad people,” he mumbled, his voice breaking slightly at the end. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and closed the distance between you as his lips captured yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It was slow and desperate, like a silent plea for you to understand his world and his burdens. The warmth of his lips, despite the cold winter outside, against yours sent shivers down your spine. But as your body melted into his embrace, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, mixing with the kiss.

A small cry escaped your mouth. You were overwhelmed with the emotions pouring out of you. Jungkook immediately pulled away, his brows furrowing as he cupped your face once more. His fingers traced over your soft skin delicately, as if you were something fragile — something he already damaged too much.

“Please don’t cry baby. I’m sorry for everything,” he pleaded with his voice strained with guilt. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, and pressed gentle kisses on your damp cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Fuck, I’m such a dick” he shook his head, angry with himself. His own emotions were raw as his walls crumbled in front of you. And you could see it — the pain, the exhaustion, the love.

He pulled you into a tight hug and wrapped his arms around you without saying another word. You laid your head on his sturdy chest and felt the heat radiating from his body, and the soft vibrations of his heartbeat against your ear. His breathing was heavy as he tried to calm you down with his hand stroking your back soothingly.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms. It was moments like this that reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place. Because beneath the tough exterior, beneath the leader of a dangerous mafia gang, he was still Jungkook. The same man who loved you, the same man who would do anything to protect you.

Minutes passed in silence and the tension slowly eased between you. Your body had stopped trembling and the tears had finally stopped flowing.

When you pulled away a little, your gaze softened slightly as you took in his appearance. It was only now that you truly noticed how exhausted he looked — the slight bags under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders carried the weight of the world.

That was when you saw it — a small cut on his lower lip, a bruise darkening his cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp. “You’re hurt.”

Jungkook blinked, confused for a second, before realising what you were looking at. He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You reached up without thinking. Your fingers ghosted over the bruise, careful not to apply too much pressure. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, everything else faded — the fights, the frustration, the distance.

“You got this on your mission, didn’t you?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer immediately, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook let out another sigh as he dropped his hands from your face, running them through his hair instead. “Some of my men were shot down by a rival gang,” he finally admitted. “And because of that, the number of people I trust has gone down. I’ve been working non-stop to recruit the right men for my team. I just want to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

He paused and glanced away for a second before looking back at you. “It’s not an easy job. I have to take care of so many things at once. The missions, the team, making sure no one else gets killed…”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s stressing me out so much.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, even see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of everything he carried was finally starting to crush him.

For the first time in weeks, you saw something unfiltered, something vulnerable in him. You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his. He looked down at the small gesture as his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your skin.

“I know it’s not easy,” you murmured.

“And I know you’re under a lot of pressure. But Jungkook, I don’t want to be just another thing you have to deal with. I don’t want to feel like a burden to you. I want to be someone who you could talk to whenever you’re feeling like this.”

His eyes snapped up to yours instantly, almost in panic. “You’re not a burden baby” he said quickly. “Never.”

You swallowed hard. “Then stop treating me like one.”

For a long moment, there was silence. And then, for the first time in weeks, Jungkook let his guard down completely. He pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, as if he was afraid you would slip through away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I don’t mean to push you away. I just…I don’t want you to get caught up in all this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling softly against his chest. “I just want you, Jungkook. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And for now, that was enough.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud grumble from your stomach. Jungkook pulled back slightly with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Princess, you’re hungry.”

You frowned, “I don’t want to eat” you mumbled under your breath.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “You have to baby. You can’t go to bed with an empty stomach” he tried to be firm.

He glanced at his watch to check the time. He only had about ten minutes of spare time before he had to go back to work. “Come on, let’s eat,” he said and gently pulled you away from his chest. You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

Jungkook held your hand as he led you further into the kitchen. He reheated his food while making sure to put an extra portion on your plate. His movements were casual, yet there was something comforting about the way he cared for you. The two of you then sat down at the dining table and enjoyed the peaceful meal together, something that became rare due to his responsibilities.

Between bites, you couldn’t help but smile. “This is really good, babe,” he complimented as he looked at you with his dark brown eyes. His voice was soft. He wasn’t the ruthless gang leader everyone feared — he was just Jungkook. Your Jungkook.

You grinned as you chewed, feeling content. “I wish you were home more often to taste my great food,” you pouted, playfully nudging his arm. You knew he loved your cooking, and you took pride in the fact that, despite his dangerous life, he still found comfort in the meals you made for him.

“I know, I’m so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the dining room door suddenly burst open. One of his men entered in a rush, panting as if he had run across the entire mansion. You were startled at the sudden entrance, and Jungkook noticed. His relaxed demeanour vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard expression he was fearfully known for.

He hated being interrupted, especially when he was with you.

“Boss, everyone is ready to leave. The Ravenclaw gang should be there any moment,” the man reported urgently.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched while his grip on his fork tightened until his knuckles turned white. The entire room seemed to darken as his expression shifted. Without warning, he slammed his fork onto the table. You flinched once again at the sound, feeling your breath catching in your throat as you placed a hand over your chest.

He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up, his movements swift and intimidating. Without hesitation, he grabbed the boy by the collar, yanking him forward and slamming him against the wall. The boy let out a startled gasp, his eyes widening in terror.

“You know I fucking hate when people burst through the door without knocking and interrupting me,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened and knuckles turned even paler as he held the boy in place.

The boy gulped as his entire body trembled. He knew he had screwed up — badly. “I-I’m sorry, b-boss,” he stuttered.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with unrelenting fury. “I made this rule very fucking clear when I recruited you, and you still can’t follow it?!” he barked.

You watched the scene unfold with a pounding heart. You knew Jungkook had a temper, but it was worse tonight. He was already on edge, and this interruption had only set him off further. While his anger was understandable, you could tell he was overreacting.

It wasn’t just about the boy barging in — it was everything. The stress, the pressure, the constant weight of leading an empire. He never got a moment to breathe, never got a second to just be himself. And now, he was taking it all out on this poor boy.

You saw Jungkook’s hand twitch and his fingers subtly moving toward his waistline. Your eyes widened in alarm as you realised what he was about to do.

He was reaching for his gun.

Panic surged through you as you shot up from your chair and rushed towards him. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm and held onto him tightly. “Koo, please calm down,” you pleaded, your voice gentle yet firm.

“He just made a mistake. Let him go. Please.”

Jungkook’s body was tense with barely restrained rage beneath your touch. You tightened your grip on his arm, your fingers pressing into his skin. “Please,” you repeated softly, looking up at him.

Silence filled the room. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell with each deep inhale he took. His grip on the boy’s collar slowly loosened, only slightly, but his jaw remained clenched. He looked at you before finally exhaling a sharp breath.

With one last glare he shoved the boy away, releasing him from his death grip. The boy stumbled back, visibly shaken, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

Jungkook slowly lowered his hand and slipped his gun back into place. His entire body was still rigid, but he had listened to you. He always did.

“Get out and wait in the car with the others. I’ll be there soon,” he snapped at the boy. His tone left no room for argument. The boy nodded frantically and bolted out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him as he did.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding as your grip on Jungkook’s arm loosened. He was still tense, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You frowned as you looked at Jungkook. “What was that there? He looked terrified,” you asked.

Jungkook barely spared you a glance. “Good. He should’ve knocked before coming in,” he replied sternly. His strict nature when it came to his rules wasn’t surprising, but sometimes, you wished he wouldn’t be so harsh on the people working for him.

Carefully, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. His eyes softened as they met yours. “Koo,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “You need to breathe.”

He let out a slow breath as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the storm inside them calmed — just a little.

“I just hate when people don’t listen,” he muttered quietly.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t let it consume you.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he leaned into your touch. For all his strength, for all his power, you were the one thing that could ground him. “Let’s just finish the food, hmm?” you tried to coax him in hopes to bring back the peaceful moment you had before the interruption.

But Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t now baby. I have to go,” he said softly as he looked at you.

Your expression fell instantly. A deep disappointment settled in your chest, but also fear. No matter how many times he left for these missions, the worry never faded. The possibility of him not coming home lingered in your mind like a ghost that refused to stop haunting you.

He noticed the sudden change in your demeanour and reached out to gently cup your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks as he looked you into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be back soon, hmm?” he reassured you softly.

You swallowed hard and pressed your lips together as you tried to hold back the unease bubbling inside you. “But…what if something happens to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Before you knew it, your arms wrapped around his torso as you held him tightly, like you could somehow keep him from leaving.

Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He stroked your hair soothingly. “Nothing will happen to me love. I’m a strong man,” he teased as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help much. The anxiety in your heart was still there.

“You should go to sleep now. It’s getting late,” he murmured against your hair, pulling away slightly to look at you again. “I’ll get going.”

But you groaned and tightened your arms around him like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy. “Babe, please,” you whined.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head with amusement. “I’m getting late,” he whined back in a playful tone, mimicking you. “You’re acting like a baby now,” he chuckled, his usual serious demeanour cracking just a little as he poked fun at you.

Despite the comfort of the moment, you still didn’t want him to go. You buried your face into his chest for a few more seconds before reluctantly loosening your grip. Jungkook took the opportunity to finally pull away, though he lingered just a moment longer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before stepping back.

His playful expression faded as he turned serious again. He called for one of his men in a sharp and commanding tone. “What’s the position of the Ravenclaw gang?” he asked.

The man who was holding an iPad quickly updated him. “It looks like they’re at the Riverdale Bar. They should be at the abandoned warehouse in about five minutes,” he reported.

Jungkook gave a curt nod as he processed the information. The air around him shifted again. He was no longer your teasing, affectionate fiancé. He was the ruthless leader his men feared and respected. The moment he stepped into that mindset, there was no turning back.

The man hurried out of the room after receiving his silent dismissal. Jungkook turned back to you, and scanned your face. You were still standing there, watching him with those same worried eyes, and he sighed.

Without a word, he stepped forward and scooped you up into his arms. You let out a surprised yelp and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you out of the dining room and up the stairs.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked.

“If you’re not going to listen and go to bed yourself, then I’ll make you,” he said simply, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You pouted but didn’t argue. He was too strong to fight off anyway.

Reaching the bedroom, he stepped inside and gently laid you down on the bed. His hands carefully adjusted you to make sure you were comfortable before grabbing a nearby blanket and draping it over you.

Then, instead of leaving immediately, he sat beside you with his fingers brushing through your silky hair absentmindedly. His eyes softened. “You really worry about me that much?” he murmured after a moment.

You looked up at him, your throat tightening. “Of course I do,” you admitted. “You’re my everything Jungkook, and my heart never rests when you’re not here with me”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a slow exhale. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ll be careful” was all he could promise.

Jungkook sighed softly as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face along the way. He looked down at you with tenderness, but there was also worry in his dark eyes. He never liked leaving you, especially at night, but his duty called.

“Right, I’m going to go now,” he murmured. “And like I said, I promise to be back home soon, so just go to sleep, okay?”

You bit your lip as your stomach churned with unease. No matter how many times he reassured you, the fear never went away. Every time he stepped out of that door, there was a possibility he wouldn’t come back. The world he was a part of was dangerous and unpredictable.

“Please be careful,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Come home safe — and alive.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he cupped your face, his thumbs tracing small circles on your cheeks. “Hey, I’m going to be fine. I promise,” he said with a small reassuring smile before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

He kissed you once, then again, and again, each peck lingering just a little longer than the last. It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as if he needed to memorise the feel of your lips before he walked away.

You clutched onto his hoodie to hold him close as you kissed him back, your heart aching at the same time. “I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “Please be safe.”

Jungkook exhaled deeply and pressed one final kiss to your lips before pulling away. He stood up from the bed and ran a hand through his dark hair as he looked down at you. “You know what to do,” he reminded you with a serious tone. “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

You nodded weakly with your hands still gripping the blanket that covered you. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small affectionate smile. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight baby” you whispered. Jungkook turned off the light switch and quietly exited the room. You listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. Then, silence.

You sighed and curled up on your side. The bed felt emptier without him. Despite the lingering anxiety in your chest, tiredness soon took over, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

But little did you know, you weren’t alone.

A figure stood motionless outside. His presence was barely noticeable because his breathing was slow and controlled. His lips curled into a sinister smirk as he listened to the soft sound of your breathing from inside the room.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a phone and dialed a number. The call was answered almost instantly. “Hello, boss?” the man spoke in a hushed voice. “Yeah, he’s gone. And his little bitch is sleeping.”

He let out a low chuckle as his fingers tapped lightly against the wall. “I’ll distract the bodyguard guarding the back area and signal you to come in,” he continued smoothly as his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the house.

There was a pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he nodded. “Yeah, okay, boss. See you soon.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket before glancing back at your closed bedroom door. His smirk widened. “Hope you spent your last day well, Miss Kim,” he muttered under his breath before leaving.

The night was supposed to be peaceful. Everything was silent, except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. But then something woke you up. A sudden noise.

Living with Jungkook and around his lifestyle, your senses have sharpened throughout the years. You were up almost immediately because it wasn’t just any noise. It was the kind that didn’t belong during quiet hours in this house.

You froze, and your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. It sounded like whispering — low murmurs from downstairs. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep, unsettling feeling crept into your gut.

Carefully, you removed the blanket, ensuring that not even the softest rustle gave away your movement. You tiptoed towards the door and pressed your ear against it. Silence. For a moment, you wondered if your mind played a trick on you, but then you heard it again — soft, hushed voices just below.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unlocked the door. You pushed it open just enough to peek into the dimly lit hallway. There was no one in sight. But the feeling of being watched made you paranoid.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out. Each step down the stairs was slow and calculated, while your heart thudded louder with every inch you descended. You reached the ground floor, and your eyes landed on a familiar figure. You bodyguard, standing still with his back facing you.

Relief washed over you for a brief moment, but something felt…wrong.

“Hello? Is anybody down there?” you called out.

But your bodyguard didn’t respond. He stood eerily still, and that’s when you noticed it — his posture was tense. “Who was making the noise?” you asked cautiously.

And then, when he turned, your blood ran cold. It wasn’t him.

The man before you wore the same uniform, but his face was one you had never seen before. His eyes were dark, lit with a sinister amusement. Your breath hitched. You knew every single one of Jungkook’s bodyguards, and this man was not one of them. He was an imposter.

Your heart pounded as fear took hold. “W-Who are you? A-And what are y-you doing h-here?” you stammered, taking a step back.

The man smirked, his lips curling with something close to satisfaction. Slowly, he advanced toward you. You instinctively backed away, step by step, until the cold wall met your back. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as your mind raced for an escape.

Then, a sudden rustling filled the air. From the corner of your eyes, men emerged silently, dressed in sleek grey suits. And then, you saw it — the glint of metal. Handguns. Panic overflowed through you. You spun around, but before you could run, they surrounded you, cutting off every possible escape.

One of the men stepped forward. His presence seemed like he was the leader, commanding. His eyes burned into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to mask the fear threatening to consume you.

“We’re really sorry for disturbing your sleep. But don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of sleep when we’re done with you.” His voice was a whisper against your ear, yet it held the weight of a threat. A shiver ran down your spine once again as you felt his breath against your skin.

Your throat went dry. “W-Who are you, and what do you want from me?” you demanded, though your voice trembled despite your best efforts to sound strong.

The man chuckled darkly and tilted his head to study you. “Who I am is none of your business, love. But what I want…is you. You and your blood smeared on my hands. Revenge for what your little fiancé did.”

Jungkook.

Your breath hitched again. Your mind raced to try and piece together what he meant. What did Jungkook do? Who were these men?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took another shaky step back, but there was nowhere to go. The men were closing in, their faces cold and merciless. You had to get out. You had to call Jungkook.

But the chances of escaping this room alive? Very, very slim.

Your eyes started to pool with tears as your body shook aggressively. “But I want to have fun before I get started with the real shit��� he said, trailing his fingers along your bare shoulder.

But your instincts soon took over. You smacked his hand away and, with all your strength, drove your knee into his groin. The man let out a loud grunt as he doubled over in pain. Without hesitation, you shoved him aside and bolted for the door.

But before you could even reach it, his men blocked your path like a wall of stone. Your panic peaked as you spun around, looking for another way out.

“You little—” he snarled with rage burning in his eyes as he recovered. He lunged at you and grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You struggled and thrashed against him, but he was stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed as you twisted and turned in his hold.

But he wouldn’t budge. So you did the last thing there was to do. You reached down to his wrist and sank your teeth into his flesh with a force that was enough to break his skin. The man screamed out in pain and his grip on you loosened. You took the opportunity to shove him and move as far as you could away from him and his men.

But he was quick to recover this time too. When his head snapped to your direction, clutching onto his arm, you could see the rage in his eyes tripling.

“You bitch!” he lunged at you again and grabbed you by the hair, causing you to let out a loud painful shriek. He then pulled you in and threw you over his shoulder.

“LET GO OF ME! PUT ME DOWN” you screamed, but all fell into deaf ears.

“Move out of the way boys, I’m going to teach this slut a lesson first. She messed with the wrong guy” he said.

The men stepped aside and allowed him to walk past, while you cried and pounded your fists against his back. You were kicking wildly, but he didn't budge.

Once he reached a random guest bedroom, he threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced against the mattress. Your pulse quickened as he removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside. His monstrous eyes locked onto you with dangerous intent.

You refused to let fear paralyse you. You refused to let him take advantage of you. Crawling backward, you pressed yourself against the headboard. “D-Don't come any closer,” you warned.

He smirked. “Or what?” he challenged, jumping on the bed and pinning you down. “You can’t do shit love, so be quiet and let me do my thing” he said leaning closer to your neck.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD!” you screamed, trying to push him away but failing. It only earned you a hard smack in the face that caused your head to turn sideways. You glared at him with your tearful but hateful eyes.

Just before he could do anything else, you brought your knee up and kneed him in the groin once again. Taking advantage of the brief distraction, you grabbed the nearest object — a heavy lamp — and swung it across his head with everything you had.

The impact sent him staggering back, clutching his head.

Breathing heavily, you scrambled off the bed and made a break for the door. Your hands fumbled with the lock as footsteps pounded behind you. Just as he lunged, you wrenched the door open and darted down the hallway.

Shouts erupted from the men downstairs as they realised you were escaping. Your adrenaline fueled you as you ran towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you. You locked it and pressed your back against the wood as you tried to catch your breath.

Heavy footsteps soon approached. They wouldn't let you get away.

With shaky hands, you snatched your phone from the nightstand and quickly dialed Jungkook’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity. Your breaths came in short gasps as you fought the panic closing in at your throat. When he finally picked up, a wave of relief washed over you.

“Hey babe, you okay?”

Jungkook sounded a little concerned, you could tell, but you couldn’t get a word out. Your breathing was ragged and uneven, and you could feel the hot sting of tears in your eyes. Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably.

Jungkook immediately stopped what he was doing. His expression hardened as he sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Say something.”

You let out a broken sob, the tears rolling down your cheeks as your grip on the phone tightened. “There’s someone i-in the h-house, Jungkook…a g-group of men. I-I don’t k-know w-who they are a-and—” your voice cracked, and fear rendered you almost speechless.

Jungkook’s heart plummeted. His worst nightmare was unfolding, and he wasn’t there to protect you. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist. His heart was hammering in his chest in fear. His men, who were waiting for orders, noticed his sudden shift in demeanour. Without hesitation, he turned to them.

“Princess, tell me exactly what happened. I’m coming, okay? Go and hide somewhere safe.”

His words were urgent, but he tried to keep his voice steady for your sake. He signalled half of his men to follow him, while the others remained behind to finish the mission. His protective instincts had fully taken over. Nothing mattered more than getting to you.

You sobbed into the phone as you hurriedly whispered everything you had seen and heard. Your voice shook and every breath you took showed how scared you were.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s blood boiled with uncontainable rage. He gritted his teeth, with fury and fear intertwining in his chest like a storm. He always feared something like this would happen — someone coming for you when he wasn’t there.

And now, it was real.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sped down the road, his heart racing faster than the car itself. “Please come h-home soon Jungkook, I’m scared. I don’t want to d-die,” you choked out.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Nothing will happen to you, okay? I’m on my way. Stay hidden. Stay on the call with me, don’t hang up.”

You did as he told you and hurriedly slipped into the closet in your bedroom, curling up into a ball as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Every sound in the house made your pulse skyrocket. Your body was frozen in fear, but Jungkook’s voice in your ear kept you from breaking down completely.

“I hate this, Jungkook. I hate all the guns and the violence,” you whispered. Jungkook’s heart ached at your words. He knew. He knew you never wanted to be caught up in this world, but you had become his weakness, his greatest vulnerability. And now, you were paying the price for loving him.

“I know baby. Just hold on a little longer. I swear, I’ll be there soon.” And with that, he pressed down on the accelerator harder because he was determined to get to you before it was too late.

It was then when you heard faint creaking of the floorboards which sent a violent shiver down your spine, and you curled deeper into the corner of the closet as you tried to regulate your breathing. The room outside was silent, too eerily silent, except for the slow footsteps that were approaching you. Each of them felt like a countdown to your doom. You clutched your phone tighter, but your trembling fingers barely were able to hold on.

Was this the end?

Jungkook was still on the line, still half way there, but you feared it would be too late. “I love you, Koo.” you whispered as tears continued to roll down your cheeks. “Please come quickly...I'm scared.”

Tears stung his eyes as his breathing became uneven, “I love you too baby. Just hang in there, I’m almost home.”

And then, you heard a click. It was an unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded. Your stomach dropped.

“I love you,” you whispered like they were your final words.

The closet door was soon yanked open with brutal force, and your phone nearly slipped from your grasp as you looked up, terror finally paralysing you. “There you are, you bitch,” the man sneered as a cold smirk stretched across his face.

Jungkook's blood ran cold as he heard that familiar voice. “Y/N?!” his voice cracked in fear as he heard your muffled gasp. He was still too far away.

“Hello? Y/n? Are you there?” his voice came through the phone frantically. But before you could utter a single word, a rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of the cramped closet. The force sent you stumbling, and the phone slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the cold, hard floor.

A scream tore from your throat as the man's grip tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back. Pain shot through your scalp, but the terror in your chest overshadowed it. “Y/N!” your fiancé yelled.

“YOU BASTARD, LET HER GO NOW!” Jungkook desperately screamed, but there was no one to answer him — only your frantic cries and the scuffle of shoes against the ground.

Then, he heard an ear piercing scream, followed by a deafening gunshot.

The line went dead, and Jungkook's heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no. This can't be happening” his breathing grew ragged, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned whiter than they were before. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and weaved recklessly through traffic, his mind spiraling with fear. Was that gunshot meant for you? Were you hurt?

Or worse.

The thought made him sick and his blood boiled with rage. He prayed and he begged that you were still alive, that he wasn't too late. If he found even a single scratch on you, he wouldn't rest until he made the man who took you suffer.

He was coming for you.

Reaching the mansion, Jungkook slammed the brakes and jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. His heart was pounding violently, breath ragged and vision blurred by tears streaming down his cheeks as he sprinted towards the grand entrance. The moment he stepped inside, his stomach twisted in horror.

Bodies of his men and his loyal guards lay motionless scattered across the floor in pools of red. The scent of gunpowder and death lingering in the air was compelling, and it was suffocating him.

The mansion was eerily silent. No gunfire, no voices. Just an overwhelming, deafening silence. But his mind focused on one thing only — you.

“Y/N?! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he shouted desperately, his voice cracking. He ran through the halls, kicking open each door as he searched for you frantically. But there was no answer. His hands shook as he gripped the staircase railing. His legs were moving on their own and carried him upstairs.

“Y/n, please. Where are you, honey?” his voice came out weaker this time. It was a desperate plea rather than a demand.

Then, a small, delicate voice reached his ears.

“Jungkook?”

His breath hitched, and he spun around so fast he almost lost his balance. Then, he saw you. Standing in the doorway of the guest room. Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, and for a brief moment, the chaos around him ceased to exist.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exhaled as he closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. His hands ached to touch you, to hold you, to make sure you were real.

You took a step forward, but something about the way you moved made him a little puzzled. Your steps were slow and irregular. Your lips were quivering while tears streamed down your face.

But still, you smiled at him — a soft, tired smile, like a person who had fought too hard and was finally surrendering.

Jungkook ignored the unease curling in his stomach and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly. He pressed his lips against your forehead, “I was so scared, I thought they hurt you” he whispered.

You didn’t respond, only melting into his embrace with your head resting against his firm chest as if you belonged there.

For a moment, everything seemed okay.

Until it wasn’t. Because it was then when Jungkook felt it.

A wet sensation against his palm.

At first, he thought it was just sweat, maybe even tears. But when he lifted his hand, his confusion turned into gut-wrenching terror. His fingers were stained red.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, he pulled away. His breathing became shallow as his eyes locked onto the dark patch spreading across your dark blue pyjama top. His stomach reeled.

“No…no, no, no.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but his body screamed. His fingers trembled violently as they reached for the fabric, peeling it away just enough to reveal the truth that shattered his entire world.

Three bullet holes.

Right in your abdomen.

Jungkook’s mind blanked. His heart thumped so loudly he could barely hear anything else. His chest clenched as panic gripped at his throat.

“No, baby, stay with me, okay? Just stay with me!” he was frantic. His hands pressed against your wounds to try and stop the bleeding, but the crimson liquid seeped through his fingers too fast.

You wobbled slightly, and your body leaned against him for support. Your eyes were fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

“Jungkook…” you murmured weakly.

“No, don’t talk like that! You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you help, I promise” his voice broke as he cradled you in his arms. He held you tight as if holding you close would somehow keep you from slipping away.

But your body was growing weaker.

Jungkook’s world was falling apart, and he was powerless to stop it.

The pain continued to spread like wildfire through your body, triggering your legs to shake uncontrollably beneath you and shredding any remaining strength. The world around you was hazy, darkness was beginning to invade the periphery of your vision, and your thoughts struggled to remain alert. But the pain was unbearable and your body could no longer bear the weight of it.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your legs finally gave out, and you collapsed. Jungkook moved faster than he ever had in his life. His arms shot forward and caught you just before you hit the floor. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

“No…no, no, no!” he mumbled desperately as he pulled you into his lap. His hands pressed against your wounds while his entire body was shaking. The warmth of your blood oozed through his fingers, and a horrifying contrast to the coldness began to creep into your skin.

A raw, desperate cry ripped from his throat. “SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE!” he screamed in panic that echoed through the empty halls.

But you shook your head weakly. Your breathing laboured, and every word was a struggle now, every syllable dripping with pain.

“N-No, it’s o-okay. T-There’s n-n-no need t-to. I-It’s g-going to be t-too l-late…”

Jungkook’s heart shattered at your words. His hold on you tightened more as if he could physically hold onto your life and keep it from slipping away.

“N-No! Don’t say that! You’re going to be o-okay. I won’t let anything happen to you!” he choked out as his tears dripped onto your skin.

You tried to smile, but it came out weak and broken. “K-Koo…y-you know I-I’m n-not going to make it. L-Look at me…”

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Because looking at you meant accepting the truth. Looking at you meant accepting that this was happening, that he was losing you, that no matter how much he wished, begged, or prayed, he couldn’t save you.

Jungkook shook his head furiously. “No! No, don’t talk like that! You have to fight, please! Stay with me, baby, please!”

He had imagined a future with you — a lifetime together, a wedding, a home filled with joy, and your children. He promised himself that he would always protect you, that no harm would ever come to you.

And yet, here you were, bleeding out to death in his arms.

He was too late.

A sob racked his chest as his fingers traced your paling cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “This is all my fault…”

You looked up at him through hooded eyes. Eyes that were still filled with love despite the agonising pain you were in. With great effort, you lifted your hand and cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over his skin in an attempt to comfort him.

“I-It’s not y-your f-fault. It’s no one’s fault…” you whispered, though even as you spoke, your voice was fading, your breaths becoming shallower.

Jungkook felt his entire being fracture. His hand cradled your face while his tears mixed with the blood staining his skin. “No, no, no…baby, please…” his voice cracked as he shook his head.

The only sound between you was his broken cries and your ragged, weakening breathing.

His grief turned to fury. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening. He knew who did this to you, and he swore they would pay.

“I promise you, I will hunt down the bastard who did this. I swear, I will rip his head off” his voice was low with murderous intent. He spoke as if making that promise alone could keep you alive.

But deep down, he knew.

You were slipping away. And that there was little he could do to stop it.

Your fingers clutched weakly at the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. Your grip was faltering as every ounce of strength drained from your body. The pain was unbearable now, like a fire consuming you from the inside out, but even worse than the agony was the sight of him — his face twisted with devastation, tears endlessly streaming down his bruised cheeks, his hands shaking as they cradled your dying form.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you had to tell him. You had to make him promise.

“P-Promise me…you’ll m-move o-on and f-find someone e-else…” your voice cracked with pain, your breathing growing more ragged. “I d-don’t want y-you to be s-sad forever when I’m g-gone.”

Jungkook’s entire body stiffened. His heart clenched as if someone had reached into his chest and crushed it in their grip.

“No. No, never” his voice was firm but choked with tears. “I love you, only you. There will never be another woman I want to love. I don’t see my future with anyone else but you.”

His words made your already weak heart ache. You wanted to stay. You wanted a lifetime with him. You imagined growing old together, waking up in his arms every morning, sharing laughter, love, and the simple joys of life. But fate had different plans.

You let out a soft, broken sigh. “I-I’m tired…”

Jungkook shook his head frantically. “No! No, you’ll be fine. The ambulance is on the way, baby. Stay awake, you’re going to be okay!” he rocked you slightly, as if the motion would keep you conscious, keep you grounded to this world.

But you gave him a small, sad smile. “J-Jungkook…h-honey, you know t-that’s not true…”

He wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at the universe for being so cruel, but your voice was growing fainter, and your eyes were fluttering as if you were already halfway between this world and the next.

“You r-really were the b-best t-thing that h-has ever h-happened to m-me…” you whispered. The weight of those words was breaking him more and more. He let out a heart-wrenching sob. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

“I w-wish I was able to s-stay with you f-forever…”

Jungkook’s cries grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways, and his entire body shuddered as he held you. “No, no, please don’t do this to me. Stay with me. Just a little longer, baby. Please!”

You forced yourself to gather the last of your strength to use your fingers and brush them against his cheek. You wanted to memorise him one last time — the warmth of his skin, the love in his eyes, even the pain he carried for you.

“I-I l-love y-you…” you gasped out.

Jungkook’s entire world came crashing down. His body shook as he let out a broken wail, pressing his forehead against yours.

At that moment, he knew. He had to let you go.

He had to watch the love of his life slip away, leaving him in a world that suddenly felt far too empty, far too cold. No matter how badly he wanted to fight for you, to keep you by his side, it was too late.

The least he could do was let you go and allow you to rest forever in peace. His hands continued to tremble as he held you close. His vision was blurred by the endless stream of tears that refused to stop falling. He knew this was inevitable. He knew there was nothing more he could do to save you. And yet, the weight of reality crushed him.

“I love you too princess,” he sobbed. His fingers gently traced your pale face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his chest, twisting deeper and bluntly, leaving wounds that would never heal.

“Shh, there’s no reason for you to be sorry my love,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel the warmth that was already fading from your body.

He leaned down and pressed one final, lingering kiss to your lips. It was soft, tender, and filled with all the love he could no longer express with words. You managed a small smile, tasting him one last time before your eyes fluttered shut, and the darkness swallowed you whole forever.

For a moment, there was silence. An eerie hush that made everything feel unreal. But when Jungkook felt your body go limp in his arms, when your hand slipped from his grip and fell lifelessly to the side, the world collapsed.

“No,” he gasped, his eyes wide with horror. “No, no, no — please!”

A heart-wrenching scream tore from his throat that resonated throughout the house like a ghostly wail of pain. The sound was raw and unfiltered, a cry so broken that it sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. With their leader's agony echoing louder than any gunshot they had ever heard, his men, who were positioned throughout the house, recoiled at the sound.

As though cradling you closer would somehow make you come back to life, Jungkook held on to your lifeless body, his fingers pressing into your flesh. His whole body rattled as he sobbed hysterically while burying his face in the crook of your neck. His lungs burned, his chest hurt, and he felt as though his sorrow was drowning him.

How was he supposed to live without you? How was he supposed to go on knowing that the only thing that made life worth living had been ripped away from him? You were his light in his dark life, his happiness, the only thing that kept him sane in this merciless world. And now, you were gone.

And someone was going to pay for it.

His hands trembled as he reached his hand to lightly, almost reverently, caress your cold cheek. His anguish turned into something more sinister, something lethal, and his jaw tightened.

“I will make them pay baby, I swear” he murmured, his voice hoarse, filled with quiet fury. “I will not spare them.”

He heard a rustling sound from behind that made his body stiffen. They were light footsteps. A presence. And he recognised it before he even turned around.

“Jungkook.” It was gentle, but hesitant.

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish once again. Mingyu stood a short distance away with his eyes reflecting their sorrow of watching his friend's broken state and his face brimming with grief.

“H-Hyung,” Jungkook stammered, his lips quivering, his entire body shaking. His throat was tight, as if words would never come out properly again.

Mingyu approached him cautiously, moving slowly and mindfully so as not to disturb him in his vulnerable position. With a mournful heart from the unimaginable scene in front of him, he knelt next to Jungkook and lowered himself to his level.

With his body jerking with sobs, Jungkook held onto Mingyu like an aid and leaned against his chest. He was shaking, his pain so overwhelming that it consumed him entirely.

“S-She’s g-gone Mingyu,” Jungkook choked out. “They killed her.”

Mingyu shut his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of Jungkook’s grief settle in his chest. He saw Jungkook in many states before — angry, ruthless, untouchable — but never like this. Never so utterly shattered.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. It was all he could say, all he could offer, knowing that no words would ever be enough.

Jungkook’s cries filled the large empty space, his body curling into itself as he mourned the love of his life. And amidst his heartbreak, amidst the unbearable grief that threatened to consume him, there was one thing he knew for certain.

He would not rest until the people responsible for this paid the price in blood.

“S-She was crying…she was so s-scared…but I was too l-late,” he choked out, his breath hitching with every word. “I f-failed. I failed to keep the p-promise I made to her, I f-failed to protect her.”

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as if the pain would wake him from this nightmare. But this was real. Too real.

“She h-hated all this… she h-hated guns and v-violence because it s-scared her.” His body convulsed with another sob, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to continue. “S-She was s-scared to die.”

Mingyu watched helplessly as Jungkook completely broke before him. He never saw him like this — not even in their darkest moments, not even in the bloodiest wars they fought together. Jungkook had always been the strongest among them, the one who never let his emotions show, the one who kept his heart guarded behind walls of steel.

But now, those walls crumbled. He was no longer the ruthless, fearless leader Mingyu knew. He was just a broken man, holding onto the only person who had ever made him feel whole.

“B-But she still chose to s-stay with me,” Jungkook continued. “And I p-promised to protect her.” His grip on your lifeless body tightened.

“But I f-failed her…I was too l-late.” His words ended in a heartbreaking wail as he buried his face into your shoulder.

Mingyu felt his own heart break at the sight. The room was filled with Jungkook’s agonising cries that echoed off the walls. No one, not even Mingyu himself, had ever seen him cry like this before. The man who was feared by so many, the one who stood unshaken in the face of death, was now completely undone.

When his eyes traveled to your body, his breath hitched. The sight of the bullet wounds on your abdomen made his stomach churn. The blood that had soaked through your clothes, staining Jungkook’s hands as he held you, was a reminder of the brutality of it all.

Mingyu swallowed hard, knowing that once Jungkook moved past his grief, all that would remain was rage. And that was what terrified him. The moment Jungkook decided to go rogue, there would be no stopping him.

He stayed with him for what felt like an eternity, allowing Jungkook to cry until his sobs dulled into quiet whimpers, his tears still flowing freely. Even as the silence grew heavier between them, Jungkook refused to let go of you. His arms remained wrapped around you, his face still pressed against your cold skin, unwilling to accept that you were no longer breathing.

Then, finally, his voice returned — hoarse and cold.

“Call Namjoon,” he ordered, his voice still as a whisper but there was authority. “And get—” his throat constricted as he forced himself to swallow the lump forming there. His eyes that were swollen and bloodshot, flickered back to your body as his fingers brushed over your face gently.

“Get her body to the hospital” his voice cracked on the last word, clenching his jaw to try to hold himself together. But Mingyu could see it — the war waging inside him, the battle between grief and fury, between the part of him that wanted to fall apart and the part that demanded vengeance.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment. But then he nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease Jungkook’s pain. He pulled out his phone and dialled Namjoon.

As he spoke, he glanced back at Jungkook, who still didn’t move. He remained frozen, clutching you tightly, as if he could somehow bring you back to life if he just held you close enough. His lips were trembling still, while his breathing remained uneven, but there was something else in his expression now.

A destructive storm was brewing inside him.

Mingyu had seen Jungkook angry before. He had seen him furious, livid, merciless. But this? This was different. This was something deeper, darker. This wasn’t just anger.

This was war. On everything and anything that came his way.

Each time Jungkook looked at the bullet holes in your abdomen, his fury only grew hotter. His breathing turned heavier, his fists clenched tighter, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Things were going to be a bloody mess after this. And Jungkook would make sure of it.

When Namjoon and the others eventually showed up, the air was heavy with melancholy and tension.

Their footsteps grew heavy as they took in the tragic sight in front of them, and their faces turned grim. As if he couldn't let go, Jungkook remained kneeling on the ground with his arms encircling your limp body and his face pressed against your cold skin. In an instant, his entire world had fallen apart, and he was unsure of how to put himself back together.

Namjoon approached the man carefully, and his usual composed demeanor faltered as he watched the agony in Jungkook’s bloodshot eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Jungkook,” he murmured.

Jungkook inhaled shakily, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the others standing around him. Instead, he leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss on your forehead, and then your pale chapped lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Things won’t be the same without you…but I promise I will learn to live. For you.” A tear slipped down his cheek, landing on yours.

Then, as if something inside him had snapped, he finally released you. His body felt heavier than ever as he let Namjoon and the others take you from his arms. The absence of your warmth sent a sharp pain through his chest, but he forced himself to sit still as his eyes fixated on the blood staining his hands. Your blood.

His fingers twitched before slowly curling into a tight fist. His breathing grew steadier, but the warmth that once filled his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker. When he finally rose to his feet, there was no trace of the broken man who had been sobbing moments ago.

Instead, there stood a man prepared for a blood smearing war.

His voice was low and cold, void of all the emotions that had consumed him before. “Call up everyone. Everyone with their weapons. Meet me at the main base,” he commanded, his tone sharp as a blade.

His gaze shifted towards Mingyu, who flinched slightly at the newfound steel in his voice. “Tell the boys at the abandoned warehouse to finish off those bastards and get to the base immediately” there was no hesitation, no room for argument. This was an order.

“We’re gonna end this bastard and his gang once and for all” his words dripped with venom, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. The pure hatred radiating off him sent chills down Mingyu’s spine.

Jungkook bent down and picked up his gun, his fingers gripping the cold metal as if it was the only thing anchoring him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, his movements fueled by vengeance.

Mingyu remained frozen in place, his throat dry as he swallowed hard. He knew things were about to get very, very ugly. Jungkook wasn’t just seeking revenge — he was out for blood, and nothing was going to stop him.

Your death had left a scar so deep that even wiping out an entire gang wouldn’t be enough to heal it. No amount of bloodshed would bring you back. But even knowing that, Jungkook was willing to burn everything down to make them pay.

And Mingyu knew that once the battle started, there would be no stopping him.

[devixncy]

Can I request a Thanos x reader AU where the X voters actually win and they leave early? But the main problem is that the reader was on the games to pay off debt so she can leave her shitty parter/fiancée/spouse but now she can’t because the money wasn’t enough to pay it all off. Fortunately, Thanos and the reader grew close during the games and he knew her reason for being there, and also knew the money wouldn’t be enough. So basically post games, he runs into her and they reconnect and he absolutely beats the shit out of the reader’s awful partner (because in Thanos’s mind, anyone who hurts the reader deserves hell)

If you couldn’t tell, I’m a sucker for protective Thanos who won’t hesitate to (literally) kill a bitch haha

a/n: anon i'm sorry this took me so long, i rewrote this 6 times. SIX. (i am never satisfied with my own work LOL)

✧ pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

✧ word count: 6.1k (i'm sorry.)

✧ content: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of abuse!!, mention of drugs, violence, ooc thanos/su-bong yet again (oops), au where X voters win, partner is gn bc it wasn't specified but also realized that thanos beats they ass so...

The first day was the hardest. The sterile feel of the dormitory, the looming silence, and the constant threat of death. Nothing could prepare you for the weight of it, the brutality of it all, how you were just merely a pawn in a sick game.

You had stood lined up with the others—strangers, all of you forced into a game of life or death. None of you could fathom what was to come. The sounds of the red light/green light game still echoed in your mind, the screams, the metallic scent of blood, the bodies falling one by one.

But there was one person you noticed, even in the chaos. The purple haired rapper that you had heard the other players talking about, Thanos. He wasn’t like the others—no frantic desperation in his eyes. You had seen him after player 196 was shot in front of him. How quickly his demeanor changed once he took a pill out of his necklace; how quick he was to put others lives at stake. He breezed through the game, like it was something fun instead of something twisted and terrifying. 

You had no intention of ever speaking to him–or anyone else for that matter, unless the games required it. You felt as though you couldn’t trust anyone. There was already a divide, the vote evenly splitting the remaining players. Unfortunately, you voted to stay. It wasn’t like you wanted to, no. There was not a drop of greed in your body unlike most of the players that voted the same as you. You were drowning in debt, obviously–but it was more than that. It was debt that wasn’t your fault, but was the fault of your shitty excuse of a partner. You needed that prize money to escape from them as well, get away from the awful card you’d been dealt. 

You found yourself sitting alone in the dormitory after the vote, exhausted and anxious. Your mind raced—how would you survive this? Your previous determination was slipping away, overtaken by thoughts of self-doubt. Even if you did escape with enough money, how would you hide it from your partner? If the games disbanded early and the X voters won, would it even be enough? And what if it wasn’t?

“You’re thinking too hard, señorita,” a low voice rumbled from behind you. 

You stiffened, jolted out of your thoughts. Turning, you were startled to find Thanos standing there, his frame casting a shadow over you. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, his pupils blown wide. 

“You know, thinking like that can get you killed.” he said, lowering himself onto the stairs next to you. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even wait for an answer. You weren’t sure what gave him the confidence, but you could only assume it was the drugs still running through his veins. 

You scoffed, looking straight ahead. “And what would you know? You’re clearly not thinking about much of anything but yourself right now.”

He barked out a laugh, making finger guns and pretending to shoot them. “That’s how you play the game, flower. Only focusing on yourself means you’ll live.”

“Okay, is there a reason you came over here? Can I help you with something?” You asked with an eye roll, not quite sure what he wanted from you. 

“Tell you what. You stick with me, and I can keep you safe. Come join the Thanos world,” He said with a hand movement, and you turned your head to stare at him with a questioning look.

“Didn’t you just say-”

He cut you off. “Forget what I said. I don’t even remember what I said,” He responded with a stupid grin, his high still in full effect. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the blue O patch on your chest. “We’re basically already on the same team anyway. Don’t you think it would make sense?” You pursed your lips as he blabbered on.

“We’re here for very different reasons.” you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Clearly not,” he snorted, his arrogance on full display. “But if you say so, señorita. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” With a wink, he stood up and skipped off, presumably to go harass others with player 124. 

You shook your head to yourself. Why would you ever need him? 

—

The next day, during the second game, you were ashamed to have to walk up to Thanos. You felt like a dog with its tail between its legs, dragging your feet. In all fairness, you didn’t think you would need to team up so soon. And unfortunately–Thanos was the only player you had spoken to so far.

As you approached, he immediately noticed you. Turning his attention towards you, he grinned. 

“Señorita! Did you change your mind? Couldn’t resist the charm of the legend Thanos?” He gestured to himself. You internally gagged, wanting to turn around and walk away right then and there. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this because I have to.” You grumbled, while he and player 124 snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. C’mon, you won’t regret it.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, and you shrugged it off. You ended up sitting with your group that was made up of Thanos, Nam-gyu, Min-su and Se-mi. 

You began to open up a little as you sat and waited for your group's turn, conversation about nothing important flowing easily (more so with the sober ones of the group). Either way, it was a welcome distraction from the gunfire and bloodshed happening around you as entire groups were gunned down. Your tense posture and slight flinching at the sounds didn’t go unnoticed by Thanos. As soon as he noticed, he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” He asked with a laugh, however, you caught something genuine in the tone of his voice. You looked at him and his large pupils, and as you did some of the tension released from your body. Maybe he really did mean it. 

Thankfully, your group had breezed through the six legged pentathlon. You were terrified–and being chained directly to Thanos didn’t help, considering how reckless he was. To your surprise, however, his presence was comforting. He cheered you on during your turn, giving you the confidence you needed to help advance your team. 

Then came the next vote. You voted to stay yet again, as difficult as it was. The prize money still wasn’t enough to justify switching your vote. Thanos made himself the center of the chaos as per usual, egging on the O voters and only helping to increase the tension between both sides. It was almost unbearable to watch. 

Meal time was next, and it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy your hunger. You’d been behind Thanos in line, watching as he threw his arms up in exasperation as he saw what they were offering. Once you stepped forward, you figured out why. It was a lousy piece of bread and a carton of milk. You accepted the food with a sigh, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ to the guards and turning on your heel. You walked past Thanos and the rest of your group, hearing him call out to you with one of his dumb pet names. Ignoring it, you went and sat by yourself to have some peace and quiet, wanting to be alone with your thoughts. 

Unfortunately, the universe did not have your back because minutes later, you felt a presence sit down next to you. You could see the flash of purple in your peripheral vision, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Can I help you, Thanos?” You questioned, taking a bite out of your bread. He was tapping his foot in an aggravating fashion, causing you to shoot your arm out and grab his leg. “Please stop doing that.”

“Ooo, I didn’t think we were moving that fast, señorita,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t mind, don’t worry. In fact, we could-”

You immediately put your finger up to his lips to stop him from talking. “You do not want to finish that sentence. I am not in the mood.” 

“Of course you’re not. Do you hate jokes and having fun?” he let out an exaggerated sigh, gulping down his milk. You didn’t respond, taking another bite of your food. 

“I’m kidding, relax,” He said as he noticed your silence. “Anyway, question for ya.” You didn’t respond, but motioned for him to continue. “Haven’t gotten a name from you yet. I can only come up with so many nicknames, you know?”

“That wasn’t a question,” you stated matter of factly. 

“Tch. Okay smartass.” He said, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. His eyes lit up at the sight, and you could tell he was about to make some dumb comment. 

“It’s (Y/N).” You said before anything could leave his mouth. He was silent for a moment. 

“Hm,” he hummed, looking right at you. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, causing you to look at him with burning cheeks. “Aww, she’s blushing!” 

And he effectively ruined the moment. “Do you do this to every girl you meet?” You tilted your head questioningly. 

“No. Only the pretty ones.” He snickered, and this time you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. You huffed, finally finishing your meal. Taking notice of the fact that Thanos somehow hadn’t yet, you raised an eyebrow. You watched as he broke a piece of his bread off, holding it out to you and gesturing for you to take it. Vehemently, you shook your head. “Come on, (Y/N),” he tested your name, waving the food in front of your face. “You need it more than I do.”

“Uh, no actually. You shouldn’t be high on an empty stomach, you eat it. I’m not taking your share.” You stated, genuinely not wanting to take it. They barely fed you all as it was, not nearly enough to be sustainable. He shrugged, popping it into his mouth with no hesitation. 

“If you say so.” He mumbled with his mouth full, causing you to scrunch your nose. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, your bond with the egotistical rapper was quickly growing. Never in a million years did you think he of all people would be the person you’d become the closest with. To be honest, it wasn’t like you really had a choice. He didn’t leave you alone. But you were starting to look forward to his presence—it was the only form of comfort and familiarity you had in this place. 

That same night, you sat in your bunk with your knees pulled up to your chest after lights out. The faint glow of the piggy bank was the only thing illuminating the dark room. It allowed your eyes to wander around without being too obvious, although most players were long asleep. You, however, were wide awake. That would only be prolonged when a certain someone decided to come invade your personal space. 

You almost didn’t register how your mattress dipped below the weight of another person, your unfocused gaze and scrambled thoughts making you oblivious. Your head shot up, and your body quickly relaxed once you recognized the figure on the end of your bunk. 

“Relax,” Thanos whispered as if you weren’t surrounded by people who could easily take you out. “Just me again.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? Thought the pills would have knocked you out.” You cringed as the words left your mouth, not even trying to come off as rude. He chose to ignore it, though. 

“Could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He asked as you shrugged. 

“Can’t sleep.” You said simply, looking at him in the golden glow of the pig. 

“I noticed. That’s why I came over here,” he said as he made himself comfortable on your bunk, sitting with his legs crossed. You mirrored his movements as sitting with your knees up was becoming slightly uncomfortable. 

The two of you sat and conversed for longer than you expected. You knew it wasn’t ideal—both of you should be getting enough rest for the third game. He was very easy to talk to, you had to admit. 

“So, how did someone like you end up in a place like this, señorita?” He asked, and you had been dreading that question. You could easily lie and come up with something other than your situation, because in all honesty Thanos absolutely seemed like the gullible type. However, you had come to trust him in the short amount of time you’d known him and didn’t feel that it was necessary to lie. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your jacket, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’ve raked up a lot of debt. I know that goes for everybody here, obviously. But it wasn’t my fault,” You paused, your eyes averting to stare at the mattress. “My partner…after we started dating, they got me to move in with them. Everything was going well until then. After I moved in, they had me quit my job. Promised to “take care of me”, said I wouldn’t have to worry about working. Then they drained my account, took everything I worked for. Blew through it, left both of us with nothing,” You said as you rolled up your sleeves, showing off the fading and now yellow bruises that littered your arms. “This has been my life. Escape always felt impossible, until I was handed that card in the subway station,” You let out a humourless laugh, feeling tears sting the back of your eyes. “And that’s why I’ve been voting to stay. So I can pay off my debt, and get the hell out of there. But easier said than done, I suppose.”

Thanos was silent. The deafening silence that made you uneasy, and you almost regretted saying anything at all. You kept your eyes averted, honestly in disbelief that you had confided in him so easily. But then, you heard him slowly exhale. His hands reached over, rings brushing against your skin as he tugged your sleeves back down. His touch was gentle, hands steady—he wasn’t high. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his finger guiding your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Trust me when I say that we’re getting you out of here. And then you’re getting out of there. On my life, a hand will not be laid on you again.”

You looked at him in shock. His expression was something unreadable—but you could see the anger that lingered underneath. Never in a million years did you expect something so sincere to come out of his mouth, not from the least serious player in the games. It honestly left you feeling confused. Did he really care about you that much? You hadn’t even known each other long. 

“That’s the plan, I hope,” you said with a humorless laugh. Your stomach churned at the thought of failure, of not being able to leave. As Thanos opened his mouth to speak, you held your hand up to stop him. Talking about your situation only made the mood bleak, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“What about you, Thanos? How’d you end up here?” You asked with a tilt of your head. He paused, dropping his hand from your chin. Thankfully, he recognized that you were redirecting the conversation. He chuckled as if the answer should be obvious.

“Blew all of my money on drugs, clubbing, clothes, shoes, you name it. Spent it on whatever I wanted. When I went through all of my money, I went to loan sharks. Started coming after me because I couldn’t pay it back. Simple as that, sweetheart,” He hesitated then, as if there were more to it. And there was. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was about to just end it all before he got there. So now here I am. Guess you could say he saved my life, in a way.”

Your lips parted in shock at his confession, not expecting vulnerability from him like that. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry Thanos-”

“Su-bong,” he interrupted, causing you to pause mid sentence. “My real name is Su-bong. Hearing you say Thanos just sounds strange.”

Slowly, you nodded. “If you say so, Su-bong.” You spoke unsurely, his name sounding foreign on your tongue. 

“That’s more like it,” he said with an encouraging grin. “I like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth much more than Thanos.” He winked, causing your cheeks to burn. You smacked his leg and he laughed, causing a nearby player to tell him to “shut the fuck up”.

That night, Su-bong had fallen asleep on your bunk. Neither of you meant for it to happen, however exhaustion had hit both of you hard seemingly out of nowhere. He actually had fallen asleep mid conversation; you had asked him a question and got nothing but snoring as a response. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up and kick him off, so you let him sleep at the end of your bunk. Shortly after he passed out, you followed suit, curled up at the head of your bed. If you were being honest with yourself, it was the safest you’d felt in a while. 

When you awoke the next morning, Su-bong was already up and gone. You did take notice of the blanket covering your body that wasn’t there when you had fallen asleep, though. The gesture was sweet, something you weren’t used to. It warmed your heart, but guilt started to creep in at the same time–even though it shouldn’t. 

“The third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.” 

You sighed, swinging your legs over the side of your bunk and standing up along with all of the other players. Making your way into the center of the room and into the crowd, you immediately made your way towards the easily recognizable mess of purple hair. He was standing with Nam-gyu, surely doing something stupid, and as you got closer you could instantly recognize that they were high. Your smile faltered slightly, but you shook it off as you approached. If he needed it to get through the games, so be it. 

Su-bong noticed you immediately, a grin adorning his face. “Señorita! There you are!” 

You chuckled, falling into step with him as you headed towards the stairs to the game arena. “Good to see you too, Su-bong.” As his name left your mouth, Nam-gyu immediately threw a questioning look towards him. Su-bong noticed and threw his hand up, accidentally smacking Nam-gyu in the face with it. He slung his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. You weren’t entirely sure if it was affection or for his own benefit, considering his noticeably unsteady steps.

During the game–which ended up being mingle–had to be the most terrified you’d felt in your time there. This was a game where desperation reared its head, players shoving and ripping each other away to ensure their spot in a room. The entire time, much to your relief, Su-bong stuck with you. Your wrist was constantly in his grip so that he didn’t lose you. He almost had, during the final round. He chose you over Nam-gyu, dragging you towards a room with a speed you didn’t know was possible. Someone had grabbed the back of your tracksuit jacket before you got in the room, trying to rip you away from safety. Su-bong was extremely quick to react, even while high, and ripped the other player away from you with a strength you didn’t know he had. Besides that minor incident, the game had gone as good as it could’ve–although your tremors had yet to slow down. 

Upon heading back to the dormitory, you nervously waited for the vote to be cast yet again. Your hands shook, still slightly shaken up. Su-bong stayed by your side, his arm brushing against yours. There were only 100 players left, and the prize money was at 356,000,000 won. It was almost enough. Almost.

You placed your vote, yet again voting to stay. You stood on the O side, arms crossed across your chest. Watching as Su-bong skipped up to the booth and smashed his lips onto the O button, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He scampered over to you immediately, then changed direction and pushed his way towards the back. You paid no mind, feeling too much anxiety about the vote to pay attention. However, you could faintly hear him and Nam-gyu starting to harass Min-su into voting to play another game. To their dismay, he didn’t. Nam-gyu, who voted after him, was noticeably unhappy. You weren’t thrilled either at the thought of losing a vote, but you couldn’t blame him. 

Down to the final vote, you held your breath. The vote was currently tied. Deep down, part of you knew that this was it and you weren’t winning this. Accepting it was a different story. As player 001 walked up to the booth, your hands clenched into fists. Su-bong, who was next to you, took notice and grabbed one of your hands. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Don’t worry, señorita. We’re going to win this vote.” He said it with too much confidence. Time stood still as player 001 made it to the booth, pausing before he made his decision. The red X button illuminated, changing the vote from a tie. Immediately, cheers erupted from the X voters. It was decided. 

The sound of the final vote echoed in your ears, muffled and distant, like you were trapped underwater. The games were over. You were going home.

Your chest tightened. Your breath hitched. No. No, no, no—

You could hear the other players on your side reacting around you. But their voices barely registered. The moment the vote was cast, your body locked up, panic surging through your veins. 

This was supposed to be your way out, the only way you’d be able to pay all of your debt and get your own place to leave your partner. Now, you weren’t sure what you would do. 

Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as you stared blankly ahead. You had spent the past few days convincing yourself that you just had to survive. Just win. Just hold on long enough, and then you’d be free. Free from the debt. Free from the hands that grabbed too tightly, from the voice that spat venom at you whenever you spoke out of turn.

But you weren’t free. You were going back to them.

Your breathing grew shallow. Your vision blurred at the edges. The world felt too small, suffocating you as the reality of your situation settled in. You knew you were perhaps being irrational, not thinking clearly—but it was hard not to. 

A firm grip on your wrist yanked you back to the present. You flinched, expecting the worst, but when you looked up, it wasn’t them. It was Su-bong.

His grip was solid, grounding. “Breathe,” he murmured. 

You shook your head wildly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I-it’s not enough money, Su-bong. What am I supposed to do?” 

Something dark flickered in his gaze. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed around your wrist before slowly releasing you. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to come find you, no matter what it takes.” He promised, but in the moment it felt empty. You couldn’t even respond, your thoughts racing as the dormitory became chaotic. The guards were saying something but you couldn’t even listen.

Suddenly, you could hear a hissing sound. Smoke began to spill out of all of the vents, quickly filling the dormitory. You brought your hands up and gripped Su-bong’s wrists, everything becoming hazy. The last thing you saw was his face, and the last thing you heard was his voice.

“You hear me? I will find my way to you.” Then everything went dark. 

—-

As you expected, life outside of the games hadn’t gotten any better. The games had been disbanded for almost a month now, and nothing had changed. You were miserable, still burdened by your remaining debt and toxic partner. 

They hadn’t let go of the fact that you had disappeared without a trace for three days, only to show up again in the dead of night. It was dangled above your head, used as a way to manipulate and guilt trip you. You felt lost, hopeless even.

Your mind was still plagued by Su-bong. You wondered how he was faring after being granted freedom. His promise to find you hadn’t come to fruition yet, but you still clung to it–it was the only thing keeping you going. But until then, you lived your life in misery.

You had convinced your partner to let you pick up a part time job at a local convenience store. It had taken a lot of convincing, because they were sure you were going to disappear again. But you pressed, telling them it was just to get some extra money, promising to get them whatever they wanted with it. In reality, you didn’t care about that. You wanted an escape, to be able to go somewhere where you weren’t constantly scrutinized. And thankfully, it worked. 

Late night shifts were your favorite. It was the only sliver of peace you had–where the streets were empty, where you could breathe, if only for a moment.

That’s where you were now, walking home from work, the cold biting at your skin. The chill didn’t bother you–in fact, it seemed to keep you grounded, stopping you from getting into your own head. The silence was welcome, nobody around to bother you. But that’s when you felt it.

A presence. 

It was subtle at first, something you could easily shrug off. Then, you heard footsteps. Directly behind you. 

Your breath caught, heart racing. You had to keep moving. Ducking into the nearest alley, you turned the corner almost too fast, nearly losing your footing. You didn’t dare to look back.  You weren’t sure who was behind you, but paranoia told you it was your partner. They had warned you. Told you they’d be watching. That if you ever even thought about running—

A hand closed around your wrist. You gasped, your fight or flight response kicking in. Before you could do anything, whether it be scream, fight or run–you were spun around.

Your mind took an extra second to catch up with your body, not registering who was in front of you. But when you caught a glimpse of purple hair, the chain around his neck, the ear piercing–your eyes widened. 

Su-bong.

The adrenaline left your body, your tense posture sagging with relief. You only stared at him, unable to form words, in disbelief that he was in front of you. But he spoke before you could. He lazily grinned at you, holding his arms out and gesturing to himself.

“I told you I’d find you.” He said, and hearing his voice set something off in your head. You wasted no time in throwing your arms around him. He reciprocated, his arms immediately snaking around you tightly. 

“Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you and hear your voice.” You admitted quietly, and he chuckled. After a moment he pulled back, holding your shoulders at arm's length. His eyes raked over your form, his smile slipping away as he took in your exhausted appearance. His smile disappeared further at the fact that you had tried to run, thinking he was someone more dangerous. 

“Did you think I was someone else?” He asked with a tilt of his head, and you swallowed hard. 

“Yeah..” you whispered, knowing there was no point in lying. He already knew your situation. 

He frowned, watching as you nervously played with the ends of your sleeves. Anger bubbled in his chest, easily interpreting what was going on. “You’re still there, aren’t you?” He murmured. Slowly, you nodded.

“...I’m still there, Su-bong,” you admitted, slightly ashamed. “I’m still not financially stable enough to get out and get my own place. Not with the debt I have, too.” You could feel his grip tighten at your words. Thankfully, he didn’t press, but his next words made you stiffen.

“Let me walk you home. That’s where you were going, right?” 

“Yes,” you said, hesitating as you chose your next words. “You can walk me home. But that’s it.” You warned, knowing he had some kind of underlying intention. He nodded, the grin returning to his face. 

“That’s all I need, señorita,” he slung an arm around your shoulder. “Such a pretty flower shouldn’t have to walk home by herself in the dark, anyway.” He began to walk, pulling you along with him. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but smiled–that was such a Thanos thing to say. 

Your walk back to your apartment was peaceful. But as soon as you reached the building, the atmosphere shifted. You turned to Thanos, and he looked down at you. You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and he nodded. He took his phone out of his back pocket, pulling up a new contact before handing the device to you. 

“Put your number in. Please,” He said as you took his phone from him. You typed your number in, and then to lighten the mood, you set your contact name as Player 243. Handing it back, you watched him shake his head. “You’re something else.”

“I try,” you said with a laugh. Then, you took a step back from him, signaling you were about to make your way to your apartment. “Goodbye, Su-bong.” You said, a warning edge to your voice. He grabbed your hand before you could get too far, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heart skipped a beat, face heating up. 

“See you later, (Y/N).” He said, letting go of your hand. He gestured for you to ascend the stairs, and you did. You didn’t disappear until you made sure he turned his back to leave the complex.

Sighing in relief, you slowly made your way to your door. It wasn’t like you actually wanted him to leave–you just didn’t want more unnecessary problems. You wanted to be smart about this. Pulling out your keys, you fiddled to find the correct one. As you moved to put it in the lock, you paused. 

“Su-bong,” you whispered, your eye twitching. “What did I tell you?” Looking over your shoulder, you shot him a glare.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around and avoiding your gaze like he had no clue what you were talking about. You had to give it to him, though, he seemed to materialize out of thin air. For someone who was typically so loud, he knew how to move silently when he wanted to. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said as he finally met your eyes. His expression softened. “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna let you go in here alone? Especially with the way you acted earlier?”

You only rolled your eyes. “What exactly is your plan here?” You asked while pushing the door open slightly, signaling for him to be quiet. Unfortunately, the universe hated you. 

“Maybe beat some ass–I mean talk some sense–into someone.” Su-bong responded nonchalantly. But his voice was a little too loud. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” A voice slurred from inside, causing your stomach to drop. You were so screwed. 

You barely had time to react before Thanos reached forward, pushing the door open wider with one hand.

Your partner stumbled out into the entryway, rubbing their eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar figure now standing in their doorway. Confusion twisted into irritation. Then into anger.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Su-bong didn’t answer. He just stared, gaze cold and unreadable. It was like a switch flipped, his chill demeanor disappearing in an instant. 

Your partner sneered, stepping closer to you. "You screwing around on me, huh? That what this is?" They turned their glare on you, their lip curling. “You brought him here, didn’t you? You really think some asshole off the street can save you—”

A loud crack echoed through the apartment. It happened so fast, you barely registered it. 

Su-bong’s fist connected with your partner’s jaw, sending them sprawling backward. They hit the floor with a thud, groaning.

It was like something took over him, rage consuming his whole body. Before your partner could recover, Su-bong was on top of him. 

“You fucked up. You think you’re tough, treating a defenseless girl like that?” Su-bong spoke calmly–but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. It was a warning. 

Your partner sneered, rolling their eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, man. But stay the fuck out of it.” They tried to shove him off. Before you could even blink, Su-bong struck again. His fist connected with their face–a hit that knocked the arrogance straight out of them. He channeled his blinding anger into every hit laid into your partner. His fists quickly became bloodied. Each hit was filled with fury; he wasn’t just fighting, he was punishing. 

“You like keeping her scared, don’t you?” Su-bong snarled between punches, eyes dark. “Makes you feel powerful. Makes you feel big.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Pathetic.”

You watched with a hand over your mouth, torn between horror, relief and some dark sense of satisfaction. No one had ever stood up for you like this. But as you watched, you realized he had no intention of stopping–you had to intervene before he literally killed them. 

“Su-bong,” Your voice was quiet, but he heard you loud and clear as he paused. “Please.” You whispered, a plea to stop only because you were worried about him. You didn’t want this to get him in trouble. He exhaled slowly, but wasn’t done yet. He grabbed your partner’s collar, bringing their bloodied face closer to his.

In a low, chilling tone, he delivered an ultimatum. “If you ever come near her again, I promise that I will finish what I started. Are we clear?” They nodded frantically, and he slammed them back to the floor. Su-bong got to his feet, finally turning towards you. His eyes softened upon landing on your shocked form. “C’mon,” He started casually, wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s go get your stuff and get out of here.” You nodded, trying to will your legs to move. 

After the events that had transpired, you ended up in Su-bong’s apartment. You brought as many of your belongings with you as you could, with the promise that you could stay with him for as long as necessary. While he helped you get settled into his guest room, you tried to come up with the right words. You hadn’t spoken about what had just happened, how he almost just killed for you. You stopped what you were doing, watching him for a moment. He sat on the bed, his long legs dangling off the edge. 

“Hey,” You called out, and he stopped whatever he was doing to look at you. “I never thanked you,” you said softly. “I don’t think I would’ve made it out of there without you.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arms, pulling you towards him so that you were standing between his legs. “You don’t have to thank me,” He murmured, cupping your face with his hands. “I was just doing the right thing. I would’ve never let you walk in there alone, you know that. You never deserved that. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” 

And you smiled, the first genuine smile you’d shown in weeks. He grinned, running his thumb across your cheek. “That smile looks good on you, señorita,” He whispered, standing up and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your cheeks burned, not used to being complimented after being degraded for so long. “You should get some rest, flower. If you need anything you know where to find me.” You nodded and he left the room, giving you some space. You sat down on the bed and smiled to yourself.

Your heart was full; for the first time in a very long time, you finally felt completely safe. You knew you weren’t alone anymore. 

[enchantresss97]

Dark Gravity- Part Three

Characters: Au!Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård) x reader

Description: This is a Au!Eric Draven, no Shelly involved(although is another girl involved), no Roeg and no powers, other than that is still the Eric we know. He is powerful, dangerous, and infamous for his violent reputation, he’s someone people know to stay away from. A man whose name strikes fear in the hearts of many. His presence is commanding, intimidating. He’s not the type to open up, but when he locks eyes with you, there’s an undeniable tension that pulses in the air between you two. It’s hard to ignore the way he looks at you, the subtle flirting, and the dangerous charm that seems to surround him. You never imagined to meet him, but here you are, caught in a web of questions. Where will this lead? Can there be something more between you two? Will you end up friends, or is there something darker, more complicated in store? You can’t deny the tension, the attraction, it’s palpable. Could something truly happen between you and him? Only time will tell, but you can’t help but wonder: where will this take you?

Warning: (the warnings are for the whole story, not just this chapter) language, angst, drugs, alcohol, blood, guns, sex (at this point you know me), cheating.

Word count: 4427

Dark Gravity-Part three

The second you see his name, your stomach tightens. Your fingers hover over the screen.

You could ignore it.

You should.

But instead, you swipe, unlocking the message.

Eric: Thinking about me?

A slow breath escapes your lips.

That’s it? No mention of what happened hours ago. No explanation. Just him, throwing out a line, waiting to see if you’ll bite.

Your mind flashes back.

The explosion.

The way the air had split open with fire and noise.

The gun in his hands, steady, controlled, aimed at the car like it was nothing.

You can still see him standing there, jaw tight, muscles coiled, his expression unreadable. And now, this...

A text like it’s just any other night. Like he didn’t nearly kill someone...or maybe he did? But you don't want to thing about this too much.

You stare at the screen, fingers tapping against the phone. Play along? Shut him down? Ignore him? But before you can overthink it, your thumbs move on their own.

You: Are you okay?

You don’t even think before sending it. It just slips out. Because despite everything, despite what you saw, despite knowing what he is, something in you needs to ask, wants to know that he's save.

The reply comes fast.

Eric: Oh? You worried about me, princess?

You exhale, already regretting it.

You: Forget it.

Eric: Too late. I like it.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but before you can respond, another message pops up.

Eric: How worried, exactly?

You: Not enough to boost your ego.

Eric: Liar.

Your breath catches.

Eric: Bet you’re lying in bed right now, thinking about me. Wondering what I’m doing. Maybe even missing me a little.

You roll your eyes, even as your pulse betrays you.

You: You’re delusional.

Eric: And yet, you’re still texting me.

Your stomach tightens.

He’s impossible. He always knows exactly what to say, exactly how to turn things in his favor.

You: Must be bored if you’re this desperate for attention.

Eric: Who says I’m bored? A pause.

Then—

Eric: Maybe I’m just hard.

A quick pulse of heat spreads through you. He’s not even trying to be subtle now.

You: Not my problem.

Eric: Could be.

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

You: Keep dreaming.

Eric: I do. You. On my lap. Tight little dress. No panties. Dripping for me.

Your breath catches. A rush of something dark, dangerous, and impossible to ignore floods through you.

You should end this. Right now. Before it goes any further. Before you let him get to you.

Your phone vibrates again. But this time, it’s not a message. It’s a photo.

You hesitate for half a second before tapping on it.

Eric, lying back on a couch.

One arm resting careless on the couch, the other disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. His zipper undone. Button open. His hand inside.

You can’t help but notice how hard he is.

The way his jeans cling to his hips, the bulge pressing against the fabric.

He’s confident, shameless and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Another message follows.

Eric: Can you help me with this?

Your fingers tighten around the phone. Heat crawls up your neck.

He’s shameless.

You: You seem to be managing just fine.

The typing bubble appears instantly.

Eric: I’d rather you use your hands. Your pulse stutters.

Another message pops up before you can process the first.

Eric: Or your mouth.

Your breath catches.

You stare at the screen, refusing to react, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

You: You should get some sleep.

Eric: Not tired.

You: Goodnight, Eric.

A few seconds later, another message pops up.

Eric: Just picture it—me here on the couch with you between my legs, my hands tangled in your hair, forcing you to look up at me as you kneel. Your lips lips, soft and eager, begging for my cock. I want to see you take me in... slow, deep, working me with your mouth, showing me how much you want it, how badly you need it. I want to feel you choke on my cock, your throat tightening as you take all of me, inch by inch. I’ll be watching you, desperate for you to show me just how far you’ll go for me...how much you want it.

The message sits there, taunting, heavy with the weight of what he’s saying. The words linger, burning into your screen, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at them.

Then another message pops up

Eric: Sweet dreams, princess. Think of me.

Your screen goes dark. You drop the phone onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

Like hell you will.

Your phone stays dark.

No more messages. No typing bubble. Nothing.

Eric doesn’t say anything else. And you don’t reply. But the words are still there. Lingering.

You stare at the ceiling, your heartbeat steady but not quite calm.

The silence in your room feels louder now, charged with something you don’t want to name.

You should just forget it. Push it away. But your mind won’t let you.

The image flashes behind your eyes, the way he looked in that picture, sprawled out, completely at ease, his hand inside his pants, hard.

The way he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what effect it would have on you. And his words…

You swallow, shifting slightly, as if that will somehow shake the feeling off your skin.

It’s not just what he said. It’s how easy it was for him. How effortlessly he got into your head, made you picture you on your knees...his cock...made you feel it. Like he knew you would. Like he expected it.

Your fingers tighten around the blanket. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t.

But then why does your body feel like it’s betraying you? Why does your skin feel hot, your stomach tight, the ghost of his voice still echoing—I want to see you take me in… slow, deep…

You exhale sharply, closing your eyes.

It doesn’t matter. It was just words. Just a game. And you’re not playing.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when sleep finally pulls you under.

______________________

The next few weeks slip by in a strange, tangled rhythm.

It starts with texts.

At first, it’s sporadic—messages from Eric at odd hours, slipping into your day, your night. Some filthy, some teasing, some completely normal, like the things he said that night never happened.

But he did.

And you remember them.

Then, the messages become frequent. He never holds back. He’s still cocky, still shameless, still pushing the line between teasing and temptation. Still saying things that make you hesitate, that make your fingers tighten around your phone before you decide whether to play along or ignore him.

But somewhere between the filth and the arrogance, there’s something else.

Longer conversations.

Moments that don’t feel like a game. Stories he tells you, pieces of himself that don’t belong to the version of him the world knows.

Like how he got his first tattoo at twelve. A shitty job done in someone’s living room, with cheap ink and a needle that hummed too loud. He never fixed it, even when he could.

Or how he used to steal his neighbor’s car before he even knew how to drive, speeding through the empty streets at night just to feel something, to prove to himself that he was untouchable.

Or how he hasn’t seen his mother in years. And doesn’t plan to.

And you tell him things, too. Not because you mean to, not because you trust him, but because somehow, between his usual cocky remarks and the way he turns every other message into something filthy, he makes you forget what he is.

For a little while.

But you never forget completely.

Because the news reminds you. You see it in headlines, in flashing images—two people trapped in a burning car. The explosion, the smoke, the bodies. The way they died, burning alive.

And you know. You just know.

Eric’s hand was in this.

And yet, hours later, your phone vibrates, and it’s him, acting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just ended two lives and God knows how many more. Like he’s still the same Eric who texts you about the coffee he just spilled, or the fight his friend got into at some club last night, or the new tattoo he’s thinking of getting.

It’s like living in two different realities.

And that’s why you keep saying no. Not directly, never directly. But you find excuses.

Every time he asks to meet up. Whether it’s a casual “Come get coffee with me” or something more dangerous, “Come over, I want to see you”, you always have a reason.

You’re busy.

You have plans already.

You’re too tired.

Maybe next time.

And you know he sees through it. You can feel that he knows you’re dodging him. But he never calls you out on it. He just keeps trying. Keeps acting like it’s only a matter of time.

And maybe it is.

Because no matter how much you tell yourself that staying away is the right thing, it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that you don’t want to.

That despite everything, you still reach for your phone the second you see his name.

That you still reread his messages too many times before replying.

That you still feel that pull. That dangerous, reckless pull toward him. And that scares you more than anything else.

__________________

It’s late afternoon when Lily shows up at your place, knocking twice before pushing the door open like she always does.

She’s wearing a thick jacket over her hoodie, her hands tucked into the pockets, sign that the autumn is here. Her face lighting up the moment she sees you.

“Hey,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “What are you up to this weekend?”

You glance at her, shrugging. “Nothing, really.”

“Perfect.” She grins, walking straight to your couch and flopping down like she owns the place.

“So, listen. A bunch of people are going up to a cabin this weekend. Just hanging out, drinking, chilling for a couple of days. You should come with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A cabin”

“Yeah, a friend’s place. It’s nice, big, cozy, middle of the forest, all that. It’ll be fun. We haven’t done something like this in forever.” She stretches her legs out, looking at you expectantly, and you can already tell she’s not going to let this go.

You lean against the table, crossing your arms. It’s true, you haven’t hung out properly in a while. “Yeah. Why not?”

Lily’s face lights up. “Yes! Okay, good. We leave tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick you up.” Just like that, it’s decided.

The next afternoon, you’re ready when Lily arrives. You chose something that sits perfectly between elegant and effortless—a fitted two-piece set, a sleek top that hugs your waist, paired with a long skirt that flows with every step. Knee-high boots complete the look, adding a subtle edge.

You even did your makeup, nothing over the top, just enough to enhance everything the right way.

Lily whistles the second she sees you. “Damn.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag. She smirks, pushing the door open wider for you. “You look hot.”

You shake your head, following her out. As you slide into the passenger seat of her car, you catch yourself checking your reflection in the side mirror.

It’s not that you dressed up for anyone in particular. But still. A thought flickers through your mind before you push it away.

Lily turns up the music, grinning. “Let’s go.” And just like that, you’re on your way.

The air is cool and crisp as the car winds its way through the narrow roads that cut through the forest.

The trees are a mix of fiery reds, golden yellows, and deep oranges, their leaves falling gently, carpeting the ground in a rich tapestry of color.

The scent of damp earth and pine fills the car as Lily drives, her laughter light as she chats with you about everything and nothing at all.

The ride feels like a break from the tension you’ve been carrying, the one that always seems to sneak up when you think about Eric, or when you find yourself staring at your phone, reading his messages over and over.

When the car rounds the final bend, the cabin comes into view.

It’s tucked away deep in the forest, surrounded by tall, weathered trees that stand like silent sentinels. A lake nearby.

Lily parks the car, and you both make your way inside, your boots crunching on the fallen leaves as you walk up to the door.

The cabin’s large and sprawling, built from dark wood that gives it a sense of permanence.

The living room opens up as soon as you step inside, a vast space with an open kitchen, where the faint smell of sizzling food lingers in the air.

A few couches are scattered around, one facing a big flat-screen TV. Everything feels cozy, intimate, even though there are plenty of people around.

A group of friends, both guys and girls, chatting, laughing, and drinking. Music pulses through the space, upbeat but not too loud, just enough to fill the air with that buzz of excitement.

Downstairs, there are three rooms, and two bathrooms, but it’s upstairs that catches your eye. The wooden staircase, worn with time, leads up to a few more rooms, each with their own bathrooms, perfect for the large group that’s gathered here.

You can tell it’s been a well-loved retreat for friends to get together over the years, but there’s a feeling of anonymity here too. It feels like no one will notice if you disappear for a bit, slip away and lose yourself in the space between conversations. And you wonder which of Lily's friend owns it.

There’s a sort of quiet confidence that comes with being here, with the smell of wood and burning fire filling the space, and the warm glow of the lights inside the cabin.

You exchange greetings with a few familiar faces, your attention as you take in the scene.

There’s food, plates of chips, pizza, and a few bowls of mixed snacks that people are picking at between drinks.

The table is piled with alcohol, some whiskey, rum, and beer bottles dotting the space like a familiar comfort. There’s a quiet hum of a few joints being passed around too, but it doesn’t seem too out of place in the friendly chaos.

And then, just as your gaze sweeps across the group, you spot him.

Eric.

He’s leaning against one of the walls near the back, looking completely at ease.

His presence is undeniable, even among the lively group.

He’s talking to a few people but his eyes flicker in your direction for a split second, and you swear you catch him smirking.

His tattoos are visible now, a few of them peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt as he casually lounges, drink in hand.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived here, but seeing him like this, amidst the chatter and laughter, as if he belongs here, like he’s one of the group makes your heart beat just a little faster.

For a moment, you hesitate.

The desire to approach him, to talk to him, is undeniable. But there’s also the part of you that wants to keep your distance, that knows what happens when the two of you are alone. It’s this pull, this tug-of-war between wanting him and knowing that you shouldn’t.

It’s easy to forget all the things that make Eric dangerous, all the things you’ve heard, when he’s just…here. With people around him.

And maybe that’s why, despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach, you can’t help but feel a small glimmer of excitement.

____________________________

You find your seat on the couch next to Lily, the air filled with chatter and laughter.

People are lounging, drinking, and nibbling on snacks, the atmosphere warm and easygoing. The conversation around you is easy, familiar.

You sip your drink, snack on whatever’s within reach, blending into the group as the night stretches on.

Laughter spills across the room, voices overlapping, the low thrum of music weaving through the air. But even as you talk, as you joke, as you listen to Lily ramble about something ridiculous, you feel it.

That pull.

Like a thread being tugged, reeling you in no matter how much you try to resist.

Every so often, your gaze drifts, across the table, across the room.

And every time, he’s already looking. It’s subtle. The way his eyes linger. The way his fingers tap lazily against his glass. The way he tilts his head slightly when you catch him staring, like he’s waiting for you to look away first.

You don’t.

At least, not right away. The alcohol makes it easier to hold his gaze.

At some point, the group shifts. A few people drift outside, curious about the lake. Someone makes a joke about taking a midnight swim, and soon enough, the energy follows, the crowd filtering through the open door.

The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine as you step outside with the others.

Laughter drifts through the cold, the energy still high, fueled by alcohol and reckless excitement. Someone’s already kicking off their shoes, daring the others to jump in.

You stay near the edge, arms folded against the chill, watching as the dark water ripples under the moonlight.

The cold bites at your skin, but you welcome it. It keeps your mind clear, keeps your thoughts from spiraling into places they shouldn’t.

And then, he’s there. You don’t need to look to know.

The warmth of his presence is unmistakable, even before he steps beside you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours.

Eric doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching the water with that same ease he always carries.

But you catch it, the small flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips, like he’s enjoying this. Enjoying the silence, the cold, the way your eyes keep flicking to him before you can stop yourself.

He tilts his head toward you. “You gonna jump in?”

You scoff, rubbing your arms. “In this? I’ll freeze.”

He hums, a soft chuckle under his breath. “Didn’t take you for a coward.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called common sense.”

That small smirk deepens, and then, without warning, he reaches for you.

It’s not a sharp grab. Not something reckless or teasing. It’s soft. Easy. His fingers curling around your wrist, just enough to pull you forward a step.

And you let him.

The warmth of his touch spreads up your arm, sinking into your skin too fast, too deep. It’s so casual, like he’s done it a hundred times before. Like it’s nothing.

But when your eyes meet, when you feel the heat lingering between you, you know, it’s not nothing.

A shiver runs through you, and it has nothing to do with the cold. You glance at him, and for the first time tonight, his smile isn’t sharp, isn’t teasing. It’s soft. Genuine. And that’s when it hits you. Eric, the Eric you’ve been wary of, the one with the reputation, the sharp tongue, the dark smirks. He looks different right now.

There’s no danger in his expression. No arrogance, no taunting. Just this.

This quiet warmth, this easy amusement, this unspoken understanding that makes something tighten in your chest.

And that’s what scares you. Not the cold. Not the water.

Him.

Because if he can be like this, if he can look at you like this, then maybe—just maybe—falling for him wouldn’t feel so impossible.

And that?

That’s dangerous.

Eric doesn’t let go immediately. His thumb brushes over the inside of your wrist, slow, absentminded, before he finally releases you.

Your breath catches, and for a split second, you swear he notices. “You’d survive,” he murmurs, still watching you.

You swallow. “What?”

“The water,” he says, tilting his head toward it. “You’d survive.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Not worth the risk.”

Eric leans in, just slightly, just enough that you catch the faintest scent of smoke and something undeniably him. “Scared?”

Your pulse kicks up, and it’s unfair, so unfair, how easy it is for him to make your stomach flip.

“I just don’t like being cold,” you mutter, looking away.

“I’d warm you up,” he murmurs again, softer this time, like it’s a promise. Your stomach twists. Your fingers curl at your sides. And just when you’re about to say something

You’re falling.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat as ice-cold water crashes around you.

Your body hits the lake, the freezing shock stealing the air from your lungs, your hands flailing for balance as the darkness of the water swallows you whole.

It takes you a second to surface, hair dripping, breath ragged, absolute disbelief shooting through you as you wipe the water from your face.

That bastard.

He’s standing at the edge of the dock, watching you with a devilish smirk, hands still in his pockets, completely unbothered.

“Oh, you’re so dead,” you manage between chattering teeth, your voice a mix of fury and laughter.

Eric tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I told you, you’d survive.”

“Eric—”

And then he jumps.

The splash is loud, water surging as he dives in, and suddenly, he’s right there, right in front of you, emerging from the lake with a shake of his head, droplets catching in the dim light.

You barely have time to react before his hands find your waist and pull you toward him.

A small gasp leaves your lips as your chest brushes against his, his wet skin burning hot despite the freezing water.

His fingers tighten, holding you steady, his grip firm but not forceful, just enough to make you feel him.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, dangerously close.

You can feel his breath against your lips. Can see the droplets sliding down his jaw, his throat, disappearing into the soaked fabric of his shirt.

Your hands instinctively find his shoulders, your pulse out of control. “You’re an asshole,” you whisper, but there’s no venom behind it, just breathlessness.

His smirk softens into something else. Something slower. Something warmer.

And then he pulls you in closer.

Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your arms clutching his shoulders, your soaked clothes clinging to both of you as he steadies you against him.

His hands, strong, warm even in the freezing water are gripping your thighs, keeping you securely against him.

Your pulse pounds. His breath brushes against your cheek, his wet skin hot against yours despite the chill, every inch of you aware of the way your bodies fit together.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice lower now, slower, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

You should pull back.

You should say something sharp, something to deflect the way your stomach flips at the way he’s looking at you.

But you don’t.

You just stare at him, your lips parting, your heart hammering against your ribs.

There’s no distance left between you. His hands slide up your thighs, slow, teasing, his thumbs brushing against the wet fabric clinging to your skin.

His gaze flickers to your lips, lingers there, dark, intent.

For a second, nothing else exists.

Just him.

Just you.

Just the way the world feels like it’s tilting when he leans in, so close, so close you can feel the heat of his mouth against yours, the tip of his nose brushing yours

“Yo! You guys making out in there or what?” The voice shatters the moment like glass.

You freeze.

Eric’s grip on you tightens, like he’s resisting the urge to turn around and murder whoever just spoke.

Laughter erupts from the dock. Someone whistles. Someone else yells something about how they’re definitely flirting. Heat floods your cheeks.

Eric doesn’t let go of you immediately. He just lets out a sharp exhale, his forehead dropping against yours for the briefest second, like he’s trying to compose himself, like he’s trying to fight the same war you are.

And then—his smirk returns. “Guess that’s our cue,” he mutters.

With an infuriating amount of ease, he lifts you, adjusting his grip before wading back toward the dock.

His hands don’t move from your thighs, his grip still firm, still possessive.

He only sets you down once the water is at his waist, making sure you’re steady before he finally releases you.

You miss the weight of his hands immediately.

The moment you step onto the dock, someone throws a towel at you, laughing as you wrap it around yourself, still shaken from what almost happened.

Eric, of course, looks completely unbothered, running a hand through his wet hair before reaching for his own towel.

But just as you’re about to wrap yourself tighter in yours, he does something that makes your breath catch.

He pulls off his shirt.

The ink is covering his chest, his arms, his stomach. Every time you see him like this, it does something to you.

It’s not just the way they look on him, not just the dark, intricate designs that make him seem even more untouchable, it’s the way they feel like a part of him. Like a story written across his skin that you desperately want to understand.

And then he walks past you.

You catch it this time, on his shoulder, the inked letters of a name.

A woman’s name.

You don’t see it clearly, but you see enough. Enough to realize it’s not just another meaningless piece of ink. Enough to know it belongs to someone.

Someone important.

Who?

The question settles in your mind before you can stop it.

Who is she? What does she mean to him? Why does he have her name carved into his skin forever?

The thought lingers, even as you try to shake it off. Even as you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

But as Eric slings his towel over his shoulder, his tattoos on full display, as he throws you one last knowing glance before heading back inside.

You realize it’s already in your head. And it’s not leaving anytime soon.

________________

Here is Part one / Part Two

@paraficwriterThis part three it's up.

This part is not edited yet, I will come back later to check for mistakes. There are still two parts left, although I'm really trying to put everything into one, but the parts end up being too long. I hope you like it. I will probably publish the other part today or tomorrow as well (I already wrote quite a lot because I thought I would integrate it here, but then I saw the word count and didn't want to make this part too long). Enjoy this, something very steamy is up next.

[uchispeach]

Empire (Pt. 1)

Dark! Drug Lord x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Possessive and manipulative behavior, obsession, death threats, gang violence, guns & drugs, kidnapping, non-con groping & kissing, manhandling, age gap, Sheltered! Reader…

Summary: The moment Rafael Caro Quintero laid eyes on you, something inside him snapped. You weren’t meant for his world—too innocent, too untouched—but that didn’t matter. He wanted you. And when Rafa wanted something, he took it.

Oblivion could be blissful, except when the order of things is unexpectedly changed from one day to another.

Reality can give devastating hits, that’s why most people decide to hide under ignorance—to sit still until it all explodes on their faces. You were one of those people, just not willingly.

Your dad knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed; a sweet and gentle soul like you wouldn’t survive a day by yourself. At least, that’s what he told himself when cutting every single feather of your freedom wings, prohibiting you to even dream about leaving home one day.

It’s not like many questions were asked, you were never a rebellious child—always latching to your dad’s side after your mother’s abandonment, probably afraid of being left behind once again.

The bubble you lived in felt pretty stable, all filled with calmness and warmth. A loving father, a nice house and a calm city, that’s all you had known for 19 years.

“Good morning!” You stopped chewing in order to cover your mouth, pronouncing each word with effusiveness. Your father looked neat, a perfect ironed shirt accompanied by his signature vest. “Good morning, pretty girl!” His polished shoes squeaked funnily against the wood flooring.

Adding to his serious look, a black leather suitcase hung from his arm. Your eyes focused on his flared nostrils, admiring his ability to smell food from meters apart. “Oh, just what I like” His tone leaked with excitement, followed by desperate hands reaching for the utensils.

Each meal was spent together, one of the various rules you had been imposed since a young age. You weren’t opposed to it at all, gladly enjoying your father’s company when eating yet another home cooked meal.

The Kitchen’s layout was just the same from any other middle class home, classic and cozy—causing the electronic device in front of you to stand out.

A TV was one of those things you could never convince your father to like, too modern and distracting for his academic taste. However, with enough begging and birthday wishing, you could finally get to bring it home.

“Police are still investigating the sudden death of José Naranjo and his brother, Pablo Naranjo. Two recognized business men in Guadalajara, owners of multiple restaurants and hotels spread all over the city-” The news reporter looked dull, monotone voice combining his inexpressive features.

“Turn that off…breakfast is for spending time with family not staring at a screen.” Your dad looked at you through sharp eyes, adding authority to his demand. You complied immediately, rushing to press the button.

“Pft. Business men, I can’t believe that’s what they call them nowadays.” The silver fork suffered under his grasp, eyebrows tightened together showing discontent. Meanwhile, confusion decorated your face—quickly puzzled by the sudden complaint.

“What do you mean, daddy?” The last mentioned sighed heavily. “I’m just saying…people don’t get killed for no reason.” You froze, limbs feeling heavy at the cruel assumption. “Don’t say that, dad!” A hint of indignation tickling your throat.

Unfortunately, your father was right. The Naranjos weren’t your common old money family. In fact, they didn’t even come from generational wealth, more so from new opportunities. Two guys that knew exactly who to bribe, who to be friends with and who to eliminate. The pair of drug lords who ran your state.

The grey haired man decided to ignore your newfound empathy, clearly aware that it came from naivety.

One would think the extinction of yet another pair of assholes was a great input for humanity, and it was. The only problem being the empty vacant waiting to be filled by a crueler competitor.

Either way, none of that seemed to affect you from the Ford Pinto’s passenger seat. Too occupied admiring the city’s morning glow—unaware of the growing revolution happening on the same land you happily stepped on every day.

(…)

Punctuality above anything else, that’s what had been preached at home since the day you came to this world. Still, you always seemed to find new ways to distract yourself on campus.

But who could blame you? No one, not when a middle class girl with mediocre grades like you got to attend one of the most elite universities in all the country. “Ugh, thank God…at least, we’ll be late together.” You flinched at the intrusive arms wrapping around your shaky shoulders.

Sofia’s timeless face stared at you in playfulness, her pink lips stretched on a confident smirk while her gold earrings swinged around. “I wouldn’t be so relieved if I was you…” Your voice shook with each long stride you took.

“Oh, come on. I’m sure being the teacher’s daughter has its perks.” The brunette’s hair bounced smoothly with each movement, accompanied by her flared jeans and girly purse.

A slight frown morphed your features. On one side, you were deeply grateful for your father’s efforts, recognizing he was the only reason you ever got to step foot in the building. But on the other, it was exhausting—having to perform under his perfectionist supervision could be dreadful.

“Knock.” The tall girl threw at you, standing lazily next to a closed door. You shook your head in horror. “No. You knock!” Even with all the noise coming from the corridor, you could still hear the grey haired man lecturing the class of rich kids.

“Whatever…” Sofia’s green eyes rolled with annoyance, followed by his rough hands turning the metal handle. You took a deep breath, chest rising rapidly at the crowded room’s sight.

“Miss Conesa…and companion.” He looked strict, with his straightened back, puffed chest and one foot ruler pointing straight at you. Warmth started flowing to your face, feeling overwhelmed by the possibility of being berated in front of your juvenile classmates.

“Just…take a seat.” His sigh echoed through the tall walls, hurrying you to take a seat upfront. Quickly, your hands scattered through the infinity of notebooks, hoping to not anger the professor any further.

(…)

“And that’s the difference between permeable and impermeable surfaces.” The sun leaked through the huge windows, reflecting its beautiful light on the chalk drawings. Your heart rate had finally stabilized after a few minutes of inhaling and exhaling frenetically. Leaving you in a relaxed state while attentively listening to yet another geographic explanation.

The soft hand held your jaw with gentleness, a common pose you took when being deeply entertained. Your dad sure knew how to give a class, making you feel a sense of pride while seeing him talk through every topic with professionalism.

He looked so composed, right in his element. Suddenly, his face morphed into a surprised one. His normally straight eyes opened up like two big plates, staring abnormally at a foreign presence.

Perhaps three foreign presences. Deep in thought, you had managed to ignore the heavy boots unapologetically stepping into your learning zone.

The door was left wide open, blocked by three brutish looking men. Their features were rough, just as their burly bodies, which flexed proudly under old T-shirts and torn jeans. They had dirt on their shoes and arms, making them stand out from the crowd of ironed dresses and Italian loafers. Still, none of those characteristics were as astonishing as the pair of handguns hanging from their side.

“Class is over.” The taller one stepped forward, leaving his two henchmen behind. Funnily enough, he was the only one without a weapon, nonetheless, he had the scariest presence out of them all.

His voice was deep and demanding, his frame nothing but small. He was all big muscles and scarred skin, a clenched jaw adding authority to his already outrageous behavior.

The two dark orbs posed themselves dangerously over your father, making you gasp quietly. “What the fuck?” Sofia whispered from beside you, following the crowd’s confused murmuring.

“Didn’t you hear, motherfuckers?” The shorter one shouted aggressively, making you jump out of your seat with shaking legs. “Get moving! Get the fuck out of here!” Big surprise hit you like a truck when every single one of your spoiled classmates started abandoning the room, a few of them encouraged by the frenetic trashing coming from the armed individuals.

The stiffer ones were not-so kindly moved by violent pulling and pushing, quickly kicked out onto the hall. The turmoil of emotions had you frozen in place, weak knees barely holding you up.

Fear clouded your senses, making you fail at recognizing the angry man approaching you from the side. “No. Wait!” You struggled to move under the tight grip, one of the aggressive goons dragging you by the forearm and onto the room’s entrance.

Meanwhile, the leader stomped his way to your father. Maniac glint in his gaze while approaching your trembling father. You trashed harder against the mean guy’s chest, planting your feet on the wood floor. “My babies are dying…Because of you, asshole.” Spit flew to your dad’s face, making him squeeze his eyes together in a mixture of disgust and fear.

“But don’t worry, you’re going to fix this.” In one swift movement, the delinquent grabbed him by the collar. “Let go of him. Dad!” Voice broken making your demand sound much less intimidating, and much more pitiful.

Slowly but confidently, the wild beast turned his head around—attention focused on a new target. The tip of his lips stretched sickly across his face, making you question whether a smile had even been a kind gesture to begin with.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re coming with us too.” His calloused hands yanked your father back, making him stumble over his desk. “Chapo, start the car. We’re leaving with both princesses.” The last thing you saw was a shameless wink.

And as you were forced to keep your sight down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of two dark orbs burning holes into your skin.

(…)

"Honesty is the root of trust," your father used to say each night before tucking you in. "And families trust each other."

It’s funny to look back on now, considering the number of times you caught him in a lie.

"Trust needs to be earned," he'd add, as if to justify the weight of his words. Now, that made more sense. Harsh but true. You weren’t worthy of trust—not in his eyes. He’d made that clear, thousands of times.

Like when he lied about where your mother was—told you she was just "gone for a while," but you saw her things packed up in the car days before.

It wasn’t hard to see, the avoidance of your dad’s stare was noticeable—even for a hazy girl like you. Either way, there had been no time for confrontation, both of you being quickly thrown into an unknown car.

The thick fabric covering your face made you feel suffocated, preventing your eyes from wandering around. All you sensed was the heavy smell of a cigar, mixed with a strong herbal note. A beer bottle rolled all over the vehicle’s floor, occasionally crashing against your feet.

Rafa—that was the leader’s nightmarish name. You’d heard the four letters being thrown from one of his men, in the midst of imploring for mercy as dozens of curses flew their way. Rafa wasn’t a merciful man, though, fueled by his never-ending rage.

“Fucking imbeciles,” he barked through clenched teeth, hitting the compartment with a tight fist once again. “Geologist, you better sort this shit out or I’ll fuck you up…”

A vein popped on his forehead, his wild curly hair barely covering it, while sharp teeth flashed in a wolfish smirk. Your eyes couldn’t admire it, but your mind couldn’t help but imagine it. “…real bad.” His last words were buried by a thick cloud of smoke, followed by a cruel laugh.

Northern Mexican music blasted through the vehicle’s radio, making you feel overwhelmed—alongside your companion’s anxious leg constantly bumping against yours.

Would honesty had been of any help?… Perhaps it could’ve kept you from hysterically sobbing against the leather seats, but knowing yourself, it would’ve given your fear deeper roots.

Guadalajara’s sun scorched your exposed skin, the flimsy sundress offering little protection. A pair of dark eyes fixated on you, trailing over your trembling body as their owner licked his lips in anticipation.

The car lurched to a sudden stop, the jolt making your limbs feel impossibly heavy. “Stop crying, doll. You’re in good hands.” A pair of rough, calloused hands yanked you forward, fingers digging harshly into your wrists as you collided with a firm chest.

The scent hit you first—leather and tobacco, laced with the cold, metallic bite of money. The path beneath your feet was uneven, sharp rocks tearing at your delicate flats, a cruel contrast to the heavy boots beside you.

Rafa’s large palm settled firmly on your nape, forcing you deeper into the unknown. His grip was suffocating, his presence inescapable. Dust swirled in the air, the distant murmur of men blending with your father’s ragged breathing. A sea of outlawed cowboys surrounded you, their watchful eyes tracking your every move.

Suddenly, you were held still, the big hand applying an unnecessary force to your neck. A hurt whine resumed your tears.

The first thing you saw was a precarious floor, all dirt, no pavement. Such a contrast from the cosmopolitan city you were forced out of.

A languid moan alerted you—your father’s formal clothes turned a mess as he kneeled down. The men surrounding you wore rough features, all crossed arms and mean stares. “They’re drier than your ass.” Rafa’s remark made the goons laugh.

Dope, kilometers and kilometers of weed—dying herbs starting to look brown at the lack of hydration. Your lips opened in surprise, a loud gasp leaving them unannounced. The plantation was immense, its illicit leaves flaunting almos mockingly at you.

Blink after blink, you weren’t able to take in the grandness of it. Your fixation denied you from awareness while your father stuttered at the mob’s complaints.

“Don’t lie to me. You know about this shit!” The furious man kneeled down, accusing the innocent man with a pointed finger. “That day, when I visited you in your classroom…fuck, you told me it was here.” The rant was endless, insult after insult burying your father deeper into desperation.

“Geography isn’t an exact science.” You expressed, reaching a pair of intolerant ears.

The thing about ignorance, it’s that it's often followed by recklessness. His orbs were a dark brown, making them almost match his black hair. But when he focused his gaze at you, they grew even darker than the inky strands.

“Is that right?” The slow roll of his shoulders as he stood up, the way his fingers gripped his belt—it was a silent warning, a display of dominance wrapped in effortless ease. “I don’t fucking care…” Your breath hitched when his hand reached out for your jaw—silver rings pinching your soft cheeks. “…You better find my water,” Every word was enunciated with contained violence, husky voice fanning your ear lobe. “or I’ll kill you both.” Rafa gave you a last tug, shaking your brain with aggressiveness.

Your knees wobbled as his helped him back up confidently. Without breaking eye contact, his fingers snapped condescendingly. A short armed guy ran to his side, providing him with relief—the fat blunt was instantly lighted by another man, allowing Rafa to take a slow drag from it.

(…)

The sun had long withdrawn, fading the heat, and quickly replacing it by the cool breath of the desert wind—that stirred the sand in soft whispers.

The moon, high and full, bathed everything in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows of the illegal crops. The goosebumps traveling down your spine were starting to become insufferable, representing the chilling cold penetrating your bones.

Rafa, on the other hand, seemed to be just fine. His shirt had long abandoned his torso—leaving a wide chest only covered by multiple gold chains.

Your tears had dried out, leaving salty paths down your puffy cheeks. You could barely focus on the map, your fingers tracing the faint lines that Rafa, with his commanding presence, had insisted you hold steady. Your gaze, despite your best efforts, would drift to him — to the way his broad shoulders moved as he worked, digging into the earth with purpose. The muscles of his back rippled with every movement, each twist and turn of his body making the air seem heavier, more intoxicating.

He was relentless, his focus unwavering, even as his chest rose and fell with the exertion of his labor. The sweat that clung to his skin glistened in the moonlight, the gold chains around his neck catching the light in a hypnotic way. His vulgar curses would occasionally make you flinch, alongside the smoldering gaze he would direct to you each time the wind lifted your skirt.

Most of his men had drifted to sleep, exhausted by the long hours of being overworked—their snores barely drowned by the sporadic explosion of a grenade.

“Fucking bullshit” An animalistic grunt flew your way as Rafa climbed out of the huge hole he had just dug. His heavy lidded eyes leaked with frustration, making you step back in precaution.

Heavy boots made the floor creak. The man with black hair stomped his way back into the thatched-roof hut you had previously used to take refuge from the sun. Shyly, you followed right behind.

“Sons of bitches” He murmured between greeted teeth, violence in his eyes at the sight of a sleepy crew. A bottle of beer crashed onto the floor, purposely thrown by the fuming boss.

With both dirty hands, he took a whole batch of boxes with him. Effortlessly, he carried the explosive filled thing.

“Rafa, I don’t think that’s a good-” Your opinion went half heard, a concussive rumble numbing your ear holes and everyone’s around.

Men’s grunts and gasps were heard from all around, the explosion having woken up the sleepy crew. “What the fuck, Rafa?” The one they called ‘Chapo’ spoke in a raspy tone. Still, nothing seemed to get the maniac to stop.

This time, a whole box was thrown, “God damn it. You’re going to kill us all.” The black haired man pulled the pin of the last grenade with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers steady despite the chaos humming in the air. The metal clinked as he rolled the explosive between his palms, like he was savoring the moment. But, just before he let it drop into the dark abyss below, he turned his head—just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes, wild and electric, gleamed under the dim light, a wicked grin stretching across his face, as if it was all just a game to him.

“Back up, back up.” Your father’s voice in the background did little for your nerves. Instinctively, your eyes shut together in distress.

The first explosion ripped through the silence like a thunderclap. Fire erupted from the impact, a shockwave tearing through the air, sending dirt flying in every direction. Before the dust could settle, a second detonation followed, louder, angrier. Then, absolute silence.

Nothing but the occasional chirping of a cricket interrupted the stillness. Until, it happened. A thin trickle seeped through the fractured soil. The trickle grew, turning into a steady stream, then water started surging upward in sudden bursts.

The liquid soaked you entirely, making you fear nearing hypothermia. “No fucking way, man!” Excited shouts numbed your brain, causing dizziness to attack you.

People jumped up and down in excitement, causing the ground to tremble beneath the force. Your confusion made you stumble around, no real direction in mind.

A pair of strong arms kept you steady for once, shameless digits gripping onto your hips. Dangling chains and sweaty chest pressing against you.

You felt him, the heat his body exuded was suffocating—as well as the invasive rubbing on your waist.

His breathing was ragged as it fanned on your hair. Big palms travelled to your jaw, handling it to the right angle—making you meet his dilated pupils.

He towered over you, mentally and physically. Every single one of his pores leaked cockiness, accompanied by that unbeatable grin, the type of grin only a powerful man has.

You were at the beginning of his empire and he would make sure you followed until the end of it. "You just secured me a shit ton of money," he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, taunting. But there was no choice to be made, no escape from the crushing weight of his presence.

Before you could react, he took what he wanted—mouth colliding with yours in a brutal, possessive kiss. His grip on your jaw tightened as his tongue forced its way past your lips, swallowing your muffled protest like it was nothing. The world around you erupted in chaos—gunfire cracking through the air, cheers ringing out—but all you could feel was him, suffocating, unyielding, claiming.

.

.

.

[cuteandhughesy]

congrats on 1k!!! so deserved, your writing is amazing! can i pls request prompts 1 and 11 for barzy?? love you 🫶

prompt no. 1: "you're such a loser" + prompt no. 11: “let me distract you”

18+ under the cut

"wait so you're telling me that dumbledore only kept Harry alive so that voldemort would be the one to kill him." mat’s confused, squinting at the tv casting the only source of lighting in the otherwise dark living room.

you’re tucked into his side, so close that you might as well but sitting on his lap—but that just the way mat likes it.

his thick fingers trace circles on your hip bone over your leggings, a soothing and comforting tickle that could lull you to sleep if you weren’t so into the harry movie playing on the tv.

mat’s voice cuts through your intense focus, making you sigh. you’ve always been a huge fan of the harry potter movies—getting lost in the magic and nostalgia that they carry, and no matter how many times you watch them, the movies will always have you hooked. your boyfriend has never seen them, which was appalling, so every free night he has, you’re putting one on.

hence is constant questions—which yes, this is probably his 20th for this movie…and it’s not even over yet.

"yeah,” you say, “pretty much."

“damn,” mat huffs, pulling you deeper into his side, eyes flickering away from the screen, “and to think he was my favourite.”

you hum in acknowledgment, not giving him your attention as you watch snape’s memories flash on the tv. he pouts dramatically at your lack of attention, head falling to your shoulder like he’s been kicked.

sure, mat doesn’t hate the movies—they’ve been entertaining at the most. but they’re not his favourite, and he’s kinda glad you guys are on the last one. mat is bored and wants your attention like the clingy man he claims he isn’t.

slowly he presses his lips to your pulse point, giving you a 5 second long open mouthed kiss and then moves farther up your neck—just in an inch—to repeat the process.

your eyes roll gently. you know exactly what he’s up to. “mathew,” you warn, hand gripping his under your shirt as it begins slowly riding up—resting just under your boob.

mat smiles against your skin, “full name? sheesh.”

“eyes on the screen.”

he groans, the hand that’s not under your shirt enclosing over your knee cap before slowly sliding up your thigh. “I wanna have my eyes on something else,” mat hums, pressing a delicate kiss to your jaw.

you squirm, a half smile on your face. “if you want to be a potterhead, you have to watch this and pay attention—this is about to be a pivotal moment.”

mat pulls back, brows pulled in confusion. “a potterhead? is that like a drug term?”

“no,” you laugh, smacking his peck lightheartedly. “it’s a hard core harry potter fan,” you correct, eyes finally tilting up and meeting his.

“are you a potterhead?” mat asks knowingly, lips quirked up in a half smirk that tells you he already knows your answer.

you nod, looking back at the tv, “yes.”

“you’re such a loser babe,” he breathes a laugh, kissing your cheek affectionately.

but your mouth falls, eyes comically wide as you look back at your boyfriend, “hey!”

mat’s grin doesn’t falter, and he wraps his forearm around your middle, not giving you the chance to pull away from him. “it’s a compliment, my little nerd,” he hums softly, hand sliding under your thigh and lifting your leg— manoeuvring until you’re dropped over his own leg, spreading your thighs.

you swallow as mat leans back down, attaching his lips to your neck—sucking, kissing and nibbling your sensitive skin. instinctively you head falls back against his shoulder, breath quickening as your arousal spikes. “mhmm,” you pause, “not sure about that.” 

“c’mon,” he teases in between licks, “you’re okay.”

“you’re distracting me,” you sigh after a beat, mat’s fingers inching closer to the waist band of your leggings—his other brushing over your bare nipple under your top.

his lips brush your jawline again, “good.”

“mat.”

“let me distract you,” mat mumbles, hand slipping under your waist band, brushing and teasing just below your belly button—fiddling with the lace of your panties. “you’ve seen this movie,” he states the obvious, breath warm as it fans across your spit slicked skin—giving you goosebumps.

“yeah but you haven’t,” you whine.

“if you let me make you cum i’ll watch the movie until I have it memorized.” his words make you whine, hips jerking as your hips jerk instinctively, seeking mat’s fingers.

it’s all mat needs to hear before his fingers dip under your panties. his calloused pads tease your puffy clit, switching between slow circles around the bundle and firm figure eights—each one making your breath hitch desperately.

he doesn’t stop kissing your face, heavy breath fanning across you’re already warm face as mat dips down to your entrance, fingers slipping through your arousal. “you’re wet.” he grins cockily, scooping the lubricant with his ring and middle finger, dragging it back up to your clit.

“shut up,” you stutter, eyes fluttering pathetically as mat spreads your arousal over your clit. you’re entire pussy has become a slip and slide for your boyfriends fingers.

he laughs against your ear, “that’s no way to ask me to touch you baby.” he says, sucking on the lobe of your ear as his fingers slide back down towards your fluttering hole.

your hips lift in search of further stimulation, the action sending mat’s palm to roughly bump your clit. “mat please,” you hiccup.

“better.”

he inserts his two thick fingers into your entrance, slowly stretching your walls as he slides in—further and deeper until his knuckles are the only thing visible. mat’s hand is nothing but a bulge under your leggings. he’s so close and warm, making everything feel dirty and sexy.

mat begins thrusting shallowly, but still providing enough stimulation to have you moaning. his fingers work you expertly, while the palm of his hand rubs your bundle of nerves.

“that feel good baby?” he breathes, mouth brushing your jaw as he nips the skin affectionately. your eyes are trained against the movements of his hands under your clothes, the rhythmic thrusts that have you increasingly soaking his fingers more and more.

the movie is long forgotten as you moan, basking in the euphoric feeling of mat’s fingers reaching so deep inside you—pressing against that spongy spot that makes you feel like you’re dying.

“what was that?” mat taunts, picking up the speed of his thrusts into your pathetically weeping entrance. he can feel a ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his fingers, a mixture of your cream and arousal dripping down his palm and seeping onto your thong and leggings.

you sob, hand darting down to touch his over your pants. “yes.”

mat hums happily, “good girl.” he switches his pace, fingers held in tightly with your walls, palm flat against your clit as he begins rubbing your pussy—fast and firmly. your jaw drops at the new realm of pleasure, back arching off his chest as he provides the perfect amount of stimulation.

“fuck,” he curses lowly, entranced on the way your face pulls in pleasure, “you’re soaking my fingers baby. you like making a mess on my hand?”

you nod, too busy trying to chase your lapping breath to form a coherent sentence.

mat grins, “good, ‘cause i’m not stopping until you’re leggings are completely soaked.”

—

(unedited)

[radioactive-earthshine]

Hi! Im sorry if this is a silly question but I was wondering if you know what the Flash diabetes thing is? I've seen it around occasionally but never found out if it was a canon one off thing or a fanon group theory because on one hand I can kinda see it making sense although it would probably have to be re-worked to fit a speedsters bodily profile (in terms of their hyper-metabolism and all) but then on the other hand I'm reminded of the times I've read YJ fanfic and out of nowhere Bart is taking ADHD medication and I'm like.. he would not be able to take ADHD meds and actually feel a difference for more than maybe 3 seconds as seen with general painkillers and medication when he had the knee surgery with nothing. I just can't help but feel like, in canon, neither of these theories/situations would be possible but then again fanon is meant to be fun,, not serious etc. How do you draw the line?

Hello!

I have NEVER heard of it phrased as "Flash diabetes" but looking over the meat of your question it appears this is more about their metabolism, so I am approaching this as a metabolism question rather than a blood-sugar question.

When it comes to speedsters and their metabolism in the comics, it is very inconsistent and it honestly depends on the writer and what would be most exciting or inconvenient the most in any given scenario.

On one hand, the prevailing canon is that speedsters heal FAST. Their metabolism is so high they can get over broken bones, lacerations, even gunshots very quickly. We even have instances of them getting over drugs very quickly or drugs just not impacting them the way they should, because they metabolize them too fast for them to work.

The biggest in-comic example of this is Bart's famous knee surgery in Teen Titans v.3 when they were unable to put him under ANY anesthetic because his metabolism would negate its effectiveness.

Teen Titans (2003) #3

(Side note, the amount of laws broken in this scene would have probably shut that entire hospital down, licensees would have been lost, and Cyborg probably should have done jail time or at least been kicked out of the tower because holy shit the ethics.)

Teen Titans (2003) #4

This scene is one of the more poignant and famous examples of speedster metabolism being a medical foil as much as it is an advantage in combat and it is extremely dramatic.

We also have a more recent example of drugs just not working properly on speedsters, from Bart yet again in more recent publication history.

Young Justice (2019) #16

Sedatives or maybe even some sort of anti-psychotics only stayed in Bart's systems for so long before they wore off well before they should have and he was able to just leave.

If these are pushed out of his system prematurely, then it is extremely unlikely any ADHD medication would work on him unless they were specially made for speedsters which is not outside of any realm of possibility in a comic.

However... because these are comics and because these sorts of foils are variable and depend on whoever is writing them we also have some evidence that certain things do work on speedsters... but in heightened ways such as caffeine which makes no sense and yet...

The Flash (2011) #3

Barry had an espresso and got so hopped up and jittery he lost control of his vibrating for a while and ended up through multiple floors. How caffeine works on them, and in extreme ways, but other drugs don't, is something maybe a biochemist can answer which I am not.

We also have decades of publication going back to the silver age of Barry and other speedsters interacting with drugs, poisons, alcohol and them not working or not working properly and the above examples are just those I knew I could cite easily because I think about them a lot.

So returning back to the question of if ADHD medication would work... I feel like again in the comics they wouldn't work how they are supposed to unless they are specialized because even the caffeine did not work how it is supposed to.

But again this is fanfic and fanon so anything is possible and with this particular subject it wouldn't be too outside of canon to have ADHD meds work. Again any writer could also explain them as special speedster-strength medication then it is good to go.

I hope this sort of answers your question?

This is for the comics and the comics alone, no other form of media.

[goreandbunnies]

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You see him again on campus a week later as you’re eating lunch in the park, nose in a book, not noticing that he spotted you from a mile away and has been watching you for a moment until he grew too impatient to wait any longer. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sits across from you on the picnic table, wearing shades and grinning like he just won the lottery. He leans in and peeks at the cover of the book you’re reading, snickering when he sees the spicy themed cover. 

“I knew you were a fun one under that shy attitude,” he teases before picking up a fry from your lunch and munching on it, his pink hair dancing in the warm breeze as you look up at him. 

“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound resigned and confident but you almost choke on the words. 

You’ve been thinking about him. Of course you have. The campus’ bad boy offered you to spend a night with him and you just ran away like a scared cat. You were torn between shame and regret but also still deeply turned on by the memory of that night. The missed opportunity drove you mad, until now. 

Dealer!Sukuna kept his promise to himself and started chasing after you. 

“Do you want the polite version or the truth?” He asks back, grinning before placing a cigarette between his teeth. He leans back, throwing his shades on the table as his knee gently bumps into yours under there, sending electric shockwaves between your legs.

“Both,” you reply shyly, smiling a little. No harm in chatting with him and teasing back, right? 

“Well first I’d like us to be friends, baby,” he shrugs, drawing attention to the tattoos on his massive arms, his black tank top clinging to his upper body and not doing a good job at concealing how huge he was. He nods at you and leans over, you mimic him, like two friends sharing a secret. “Then I’d have you in my bed, making sure I’d ruin you for other men in the future. Fictional or real,” he adds mockingly, glancing at your book. 

Your breath is hitched, you feel too hot in your own skin and his presence crushes you in the best way. He’s intoxicating, much like the drugs he likes to consume. You wish you could be free to give in, to want him back openly, maybe even make him work for it a little since he wants it - you - so bad. But your studies are too important, you’re too focused on your goal to ruin your chances because of a frat boy. No matter how tempting. 

“I- I’m not interested, sorry,” you tell him, frustration and regret gnawing at your gut. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sees right through your lies. He knows the effect he already has on you. 

“One night, that’s all I’m asking for,” he offers, finishing his cigarette and crushing the butt on the wooden table. “If you don’t want to see me again after that, I’ll let you go,” he lies. But you believe him and this time, it’s too tempting to refuse. Again. 

Besides, one night of fun can’t be that harmless. Most students get trashed weekly and yet they still graduate. One night to unwind with the hottest guy on campus wouldn’t put your plans in danger. It’s been forever since you’ve had some adult kind of fun, sticking to smutty books to make sure not to get attached or too distracted by a real man. 

“What do you say, Princess?” He insists, one of his long legs sliding between your pressed thighs, prying them open. You let him. 

He doesn’t look like the type of guy who gets attached anyways. You tell yourself that you can spend that one night with him then just lie, tell him it wasn’t that good and get back to your bland, boring life. You already know any sex with him would be life changing. It scares you a little. He scares you even more. 

“Okay,” you eventually give up, heart pounding in your chest. 

Dealer!Sukuna whose eyes light up with malice and excitement the second that small word comes out of your mouth. He’s not the type to work for things, he’s used to people coming to him and giving everything he wants on a silver platter. 

This is a first for him. Just like it’s a first for you too. You’ve always made sure to keep away from trouble and he always stuck to the wilder girls out of habit. None of them had sparked a similar interest in him. 

His hand reaches out and cups your chin gently. His hand smells like the cigarette he just smoked and this alone ignites something in your lower belly. 

“Clear your schedule for me tonight then,” he demands, impatient. You shake your head. 

“Not tonight,” you feel stupid for saying no yet again. But you need more than an afternoon to prepare yourself for a whole night with him. 

Dealer!Sukuna who lets go of your face, huffing as he collects his shades on the table and snatches a pencil from your stuff. He scribbles his phone number on the margin in the book you’ve stopped reading. 

“Up to you now, princess,” he slides the book back to you before getting up, his playfulness gone as he leaves you there, alone. 

Your face falls as you glance at the phone number, feeling like you’ve just lost your opportunity to step out of your comfort zone. The one chance to experience more. Defeated, you collect your belongings and head to your next class. 

The entire lecture, your mind is on the number written in that book, wondering whether or not you should text him and apologize - what for, being a coward? Or simply tell him that you can’t see him tonight because you’re too nervous. You end up doing nothing, going along with your day. 

You’re walking to your last class when a strong hand snatches you from the corridor into a fire exit. Before you can scream, that same hand covers your mouth as you’re being pinned against a wall. Pink hair and crimson eyes come into view and you suddenly become acutely aware of the proximity between your body and his. 

Dealer!Sukuna who is just tired of waiting for a taste of his new favourite drug.

♡ Taglist : @gojoscumslut @bohoooitsme @call-memissbrightside @yuujispinkhair @seellove @s3ns4ti0n4l ♡

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics

Copyright © goreandbunnies 2024-2025, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

୨★✧.*party 4 u ✧★.*୧

Jean Kirstein x Reader, one shot

★ recreational drug use, angst, fluff, post break up, kissing, ex boyfriend, insecurity and anxiety

Ik the song is trending but when I tell you it's been a fave with me forever.. this WIP has sat with me for a while, and I changed my mind with a lot of it but hopefully u all still like it! (If I had a nickel for every Jean fic I wrote inspired by a charlixcx song, lol) Who said you can't make corny songfic in 2025??

┈➤here's the ao3 link or read under the cut :)

Jean thought you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. 

Silver confetti fluttered around you, the echoes of the crowd and thudding bass was overwhelming. You felt weightless and free as you danced in the darkness. The strobe lights made you see spots, highlighting the smoke that spun into the air, and for the briefest moment, everything was fine.

You couldn’t believe you almost didn’t come. 

Hitch barely managed to persuade you to skip your 8 am tomorrow, just so you could all get fucked up tonight. 

You took an Uber so none of the group would have to drive from the pregame near campus to Jean Kirschtein’s obnoxiously large house in the country.

You and Jean had a complicated history—Hitch and Annie didn’t know, because you hated the drama of it all. 

All your freshman year at Paradis State, you were inseparable in puppy love, and so unprepared for the consequences of it. You weren’t the best at expressing your feelings and boundaries, and Jean was eager to please you. It should have worked better, and you tried not to linger on that fact. He was breathtakingly handsome and had lots of friends, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you eventually just stopped seeing each other. 

Well, you stopped seeing him. 

You practically ghosted Jean when you found out about his weird feelings about Mikasa. You couldn’t unsee his crush whenever he was around her, and it killed you. You weren’t even angry with her for it, since Mikasa was happily infatuated with Eren, though you wished you could tell her plainly that you harbored nothing against her for it. 

You were young and emotional, and let your hurt get the better of you. It didn’t make any sense, and you didn’t even give Jean a chance to explain himself, ever. 

The aftermath was awkward considering how many mutual friends you had, so you just avoided him entirely. You started going to clubs in the next town over instead of bars and parties around campus, and you were content with the new friends you made in Annie and Hitch, despite their connections looping back to the same place. 

You supposed for as long as you lived in Trost, everyone you knew would lead you back to Jean. He was a good guy. You kind of freaked out, and got too embarrassed and proud to go back to him and apologize. 

“C’mon man, are you gonna try to enjoy yourself?” Connie gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“I am,” Jean said, irritated, and glanced outside again. “Are you sure she’s coming?”

He had spent the first hour of the evening hovering by the windows. They were tall and wide, so he would have seen you perfectly from the other end of the room, but as soon as he heard that you were coming, he was a wreck. 

He insisted on picking out the decorations instead of letting Sasha take the lead, like she usually did. He couldn’t help himself from the excitement that blossomed in his chest at the idea of seeing you, really seeing you. 

As the others around him began pregaming, Jean really drank. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. His heart raced all evening, resounding all his longing, begging, willing you through that door. Come to my party. Come to my party.

Jean felt like he was always catching glimpses of you, and no matter how hard he tried to move on, the way you seemed to, there was always a remaining trace of bitterness. You were barely there, yet not close enough for him to properly ignore the way you made him feel.

It was years ago, and should mean nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Look man,” Connie put his hand on Jean’s shoulder, his breath fanning the scent of beer over to his friend. “Just relax! Either y’talk to her, or you don’t. I don’t think you should waste your night being emo about it. Make a decision. Do something instead of moping around.”

Jean shoved his hand away, a little harsher than he intended to. He couldn’t gauge his own strength—or temper–when he got drunk like this. 

“Yeah, I know.”

By the time you arrived at the sizable mansion, up a long winding driveway lined with trees, you were so high, you didn’t give Jean a second thought. 

You walked in with the girls, immediately enamored with the superfluous decorations, the colorful, ambient lighting, and the blasting music. Balloons hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, and it seemed like over a hundred people were crammed into every crevice of the house. 

“What the hell is this party for again?” You yelled to Hitch, despite her face only being a few inches from yours. Her eyes were hazy and distant, as she’d shared some molly with you earlier, the dose she took was far more. 

“Uhh, I think Jean said he just needed a pick me up for the new semester,” she shouted back and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I’m getting jungle juice,” Annie said boredly. She’d taken more shots than any of you, and remained composed like it was nothing. “Come with?” 

Hitch nodded. 

“Y/n? You rolling?” 

“Not yet. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” you shook your head and gave them an encouraging smile.

“Fine, but if I leave here alone, I’m killing you both,” she stuck her tongue out at you playfully, and gripped Annie’s arm as they went off. 

You smiled and decided to occupy yourself by weaving through the crowd, people watching. 

There were people taking shots, legs in tall boots and short skirts, groups smoking cigs and rolling up by the staircase. A throng of people surrounded the DJ on the raised platform by the living room. 

Your senses were pleasantly heightened, you felt warm and light. The mixture of drugs kept you at ease, though a part of you ached, and seemed to search for a certain familiar face.

You pushed away the thought and made your way across the floor. 

You saw Historia posing as her girlfriend took photos of her, the flash briefly blinding you as you stumbled past. You waved at Connie and Sasha, the former shotgunning a beer as his friend timed him. It was always nice seeing them. 

“Hey Y/n!”

You turned to find a buzzed, cheerful Marco, with a solo cup in hand, and he leaned in for a hug. 

“Hey!” You said, surprised, and squeezed him tight. 

You liked Marco a lot, and despite being Jean’s best friend, he was one of the kindest people to you throughout the past few years.

“I’m great, did you just get here?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Looks like you guys went all out,” you grinned and gestured at the crowded room. If it wasn’t silver or gold, it was sparkling or glowing. 

“It was all Jean’s idea,” Marco rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I dunno. He’s uh– excited. Probably on a second bottle by now.” 

“Oh,” your eyebrows betrayed your concern. “Um, is he alright?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to… sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Marco was pink from the alcohol, and seemed to turn a little redder. “You should enjoy yourself!”

“Well, where is he?” Your eyebrows pinched together. 

The temptation was killing you. Was Marco trying to say that Jean wanted to talk to you? Why else would he suggest it?

“Um, outside, I think,” he gave you an apologetic smile. “Really, he’ll be okay. You should enjoy your night. He sent me away to enjoy mine.”

You swallowed and watched him disappear into the crowd. 

You were fucking out of it. Maybe any mistakes you made tonight could be reasonably excused. Besides, you were friends with Jean long before you fucked things up. 

You made your way through the sea of people and to the back door, an angelic synth swimming in your ears. 

You stepped outside, and shivered from the biting February breeze. 

The pool shone blue in the night, casting a glow that shimmered and shook with the water. It was quieter in the backyard, the thudding music and chatter was muffled and seemed worlds away. 

You braced yourself to see Jean around the corner, or on a chair, but you were completely alone. 

Your head was pounding from the powerful speakers. You took a deep, shuddering breath, allowing yourself to feel. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, knowing that Jean would be here. You kind of walked into this. Yet, you think you might’ve felt the same sober. That was sadder. At least with this, you could blame it on the drugs. 

Fuck. You couldn’t let yourself spiral and lose it. You felt like shit ruining girl’s nights like this, even if Hitch and Annie were preoccupied elsewhere. 

You sank to your knees by the pool, and took off your heels. You dipped your feet in the water, grateful for the cold, tranquil distraction. You closed your eyes, and took deep breaths. With the muffled crowd and the occasional car passing in the street, the moment felt a little more real. 

Jean was always good at helping you calm down. When you managed to convey the times you were overwhelmed, he was a saint, rubbing your back and keeping you hydrated when you got too high or anxious. 

Tears leaked down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup, after using so much glitter, but your cheeks were wet and your vision blurred. You hadn’t thought about this, or him, in years. 

Did you overreact? You let your jealousy get to the better of you. God, you sucked. Maybe you should have stayed home. Maybe it’s just been too long, or you were high, and lonely, but the idea of Jean holding you close now made your heart ache. 

You heard the back door slide open, spilling more heavenly electronic music into the air until it shut again. 

“Hey.” A familiar voice called your name, nearly cracking. 

“Hey,” you said, hastily wiping your face, staring straight ahead at the water. “Are you alright?”

“I think I should be asking you,” Jean slurred and sat down on the pavement. He had a bottle in his hand, and wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. His legs were crossed, and he leaned down while he spoke, his posture ruined in favor of staying at your eye level. “I di–um..” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Seemed like fun,” you laughed, despite the salty taste in your mouth. “It’s all beautiful, Jean. You always throw one hell of a party.”

His eyes were pained, and it sent a stabbing sensation to your chest. 

“Thanks.” He seemed very tempted to say more, but instead took a swig and passed you the bottle. 

“No I’m good, I’m rolling,” you pushed it back to him. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Any.. particular occasion?”

You shrugged. 

“Hitch offered.” You tried not to read too much into his question. You rolled very rarely—partying was always magnified by a little molly every now and then. You likely flattered yourself too much as you wondered if he was thinking you came out tonight to fuck someone, with its reputation as a sex drug. 

“Sounds fun,” he said, jaw tight. “So… why are you out here?”

“Marco kind of sent me,” you laughed. “Obviously, I was too late. Thought you’d be somewhere else by now, and the pool’s nice.”

“Well, here I am,” he said bitterly. He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes and ruining the near-perfect coif. You liked it better that way, messy and long, you didn’t think the perfectly combed look really fit him. 

“How–how are you?” You said lightly. His lashes were so long, perfectly framing his sad eyes, brushing his cheek with every blink. 

“Second semester always sucks,” he shrugged and took another swig. “Thought something extravagant would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled and laughed nervously. You were chewing your lip as you kicked your leg gently against the water, watching the small droplets flick away from you.  “I think it was a great idea. And it’s stunning– inside, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

There was a trace of a smile on his lips from your compliment. He couldn’t make himself say that it was really all for you. 

Your features were glowing from the light refracting off of the pool, your short dress rode up your thighs, and Jean couldn’t help but stare. He wondered if you sensed it too, the tension—not from the awful history, or the unsaid professions, but the near tangible desire.  

“I’m glad you made it,” he said softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. You averted your eyes, your hands in your lap. 

The drugs were heightening all your emotions, and all your senses—the tinge of chlorine in the air, mixing with Jean’s familiar scent, the faint thudding of music from inside the house, the cool water against your skin. 

“Um,” your breath was shaky, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m sorry, by the way. A-about freshman year.” You nearly choked on the words as they bubbled out of you. “It’s—I was really dumb and jealous. You’re a great guy, Jean. You’re an amazing, sweet, romantic son of a bitch. You deserve the world.”

You tried not to stare, but it wasn’t like he was returning the favor. You were both shamelessly memorizing each other's features, a mingling of fear, apprehension, and desperation. You felt so wretched, to pretend like he was someone you never loved. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jean said pathetically. It was all he could manage, despite everything he wanted to say. 

You blushed and tried not to smile too hard. That was more than enough for you. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You ignored the tossing in your stomach as Jean held the door open, leaking sound and smoke into the air before sliding it shut. 

It was a small, guilty pleasure, feeling him guide you through the mass of people, dancing, thrashing bodies and balloons. 

You found a small opening, nearly thrown together from the crowd. 

You spent the night with your arms at Jean’s shoulders, and his hands at your waist. The strobe lights nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t look away from him. The adoration in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, that you were both ridiculous, cowardly idiots. Maybe you were just delusional. 

You couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned into him, taking in his scent, yearning to feel his heartbeat, as if you were the only people in the room. It was like time stopped and everyone else faded away when he closed the space between you, his lips warm and rough and they met yours, finally reuniting after all the heartache. 

Jean tasted like home. His hands roamed your body, through your hair, and you clung to him, kissing him and forsaking your breath. It all felt so good, so right.

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, thrilled by the taste of you, the way you felt against him and in his hands. He tried to be gentler, but he was too excited by your shallow breaths, your impossibly soft skin, your moans urging him to be more and more indecent. 

You nearly stumbled, getting shoulder checked from a nearby dancer, and your tall heels failing you. Jean’s grip at your waist was firm, and he led you to the corner and pinned you against the wall. He kissed you until you gasped for air.

“Uh, should we do something?” Sasha nudged Connie with her elbow as she spotted you both from a distance, making out passionately, for all to see. 

“Are you kidding?” Connie snorted. “They need that shit. I’ll find them an empty closet myself.”

[itsalwaysforyou]

so i started sertraline (i think americans call it zoloft??) very recently & i’m having quite a social week so i’ve been researching if i can drink whilst taking it.

and the nhs website says that you CAN, but it’s wise to wait a while after you start the meds so you can differentiate side effects.

whereas all the american websites are like IF YOU DRINK ON SERTRALINE YOU WILL DIE. YOUR HEART WILL EXPLODE. YOUR BLOOD WILL BOIL.

so i drank a cider tonight,

[alovesongtheywrote]

yknow, there's something fun to me about the way reid is tortured with russian roulette in season two, and then a million years later in season eleven, morgan gets tortured the same way. there's some fun and funky symmetry there. they could start a support group.

also, guess who directed that episode of season eleven lmao

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Look I don't know what the fuck antarctica is.

It's like stuff your ass ain't surviving past though

[anonymusbosch]

oughhhhh medical system.

[salsakiyoomi]

“i should leave.”

“stay.” sukuna grunts, his arm tightening around you.

it was another hot night of intimacy with your king, as a part of his harem, your duty was to satisfy him when needed, and that's exactly what happened tonight.

“but my lord —” you begin to protest, your mind not quite wrapping around the idea of staying the night in his chambers, after all, he didn't like waking up to a concubine next to him.

“i said stay.” he says, his voice rough as he pulls you closer against his bare chest.

you can’t help but feel heat spread at your cheeks. unsure of what to do next, you simply lay in his arms, trying to brush off the thought of what this could mean — he never liked sharing his bed and now he was asking you to stay the night? that won't settle well with the other concubines, they were already jealous of you as it is.

after all, ever since you came, sukuna has been paying extra attention to you, spending more time and more heated nights with your company.

he can't help it really, and he hates it — the chokehold you have on him was almost unbearable for the king of curses.

and yet, he couldn't find it in himself to push you away.

you were like an addicting drug — all took was one night and sukuna was hooked, everything about you was intoxicating.

from the curves of your body to the taste of your lips against his to the addicting perfume you always wore, he couldn't get enough.

and asking you to stay was definitely evidence of that.

his fingers trace the outline of your body and you shiver at the touch, which makes sukuna let out a little chuckle.

“just admiring you.” he mutters and you try not to gasp — had he had too much to drink again?

“don't leave.” he says after a while and it takes you a moment before you nod, “i won't.”

and the king of curses practically purrs,

“good.”

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.