#i tried so hard to make this shorter but that's just not the sort of person i am so here it is

[madegeeky]

Never thought I'd see a cop show be so fucking liberal and thoughtful as to acknowledge that a person who is diagnosed with psychopathy is not, by default, a serial killer. They have "persistent antisocial behavior, impaired empathy and remorse, and bold, disinhibited, and egotistical traits" (Wikipedia) but none of that means that they are going to (or have) become a serial killer. (The show uses the word "psychopathy" so that's what I'll be using.)

The basic premise of the show, which is the Korean drama Bad Guys, is that a detective uses 3 prisoners to help him fight crime, usually people who have killed repeatedly. There's the mobster, the hitman, and the aforementioned psychopath, Jung-moon.

It later turns out that Jung-moon has been framed for the serial killings that he went to jail for. He was framed, in fact, by the detective he is now working for because, well, he was a psychopath so that meant that it had to be him, even if there was no real evidence.

But it is wrong and the show specifically states that. It was wrong, the show says, that this was done to someone no matter what they were diagnosed with. It was wrong, the show says, that the detective assumed the worst of Jung-moon because of his diagnosis. It was wrong, the show says, that Jung-moon was sent to prison for years. It was cruel and awful and wrong.

And the show never refutes that Jung-moon has psychopathy! Never! No one ever calls it into question, tries to say that he didn't do the killings because he's not obviously not a psychopath. He has psychopathy but he still didn't deserve to go to jail or be treated the way he was treated. The psychopathy is never used as a reason to make it better or understandable that he was sent away.

They even have the detective apologize to Jung-moon! "I branded you as a psychopath, blaming everything on you," says the detective. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." There's no attempt to make excuses, to pretend that there was another reason he thought it was Jung-moon. He straight up just admits that that was the only reason he targeted Jung-moon. And he acknowledges that this was wrong and cruel of him.

The detective then gives Jung-moon his gun and tells him that he deserves to be shot by the other man. And Jung-moon puts the gun to the detective's head and says, "I can't feel the emotions you fee. Because I can't feel those feelings, I wanted to learn them. Whether it's blame, sadness, happiness, I learned from you for the past couple months." And then Jung-moon doesn't pull the trigger. He's a psychopath. He has low empathy and low self-control and he still doesn't kill the detective.

I just wasn't expecting such a nuanced, respectful, and kind look at a character diagnosed with psychopathy from a silly little cop drama which is basically just a mystery with cops being overly dramatic and a fuck ton of fight scenes. It was just incredibly refreshing to see.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

How would the aot boys react if they heard a rumor that reader has a crush on them

i heard a rumor….

eren jaeger is so nosey when he hears the rumor going around. he’s intrigued by your crush on him and he wants to know every little detail, of course by everyone else and not you. he gathers everyone’s opinion and saves you for last. he doesn’t beat around the bush; he tells you he knows that you’re crushing hardcore on him. he’s playful and witty, trying to get you all flustered.

armin arlert, bless his heart, tries to be cool about it. and he does a fairly good job you think. he often finds ways to get you two alone but he never makes a bold move. he asks if he can help you do things, tries to find common interests, etc. you know he knows because you find him trying to spend too much time with you, not that you’re complaining. he just lets things take their course.

jean kirsteins plays the disinterested, too-cool-for-you character. he’s damn good at it too. his actions and short replies hurt your ego and your heart. so, you give him the same treatment back. this, he’s not a fan of. he demands that you tell him why you’re treating him like this and you respond that you’re just dishing out what he is. that makes him go ‘oh’ and it results in a very around the bush way of telling you he has some sort of feelings for you but he was trying to repress it.

connie springer grins from ear to ear for days end when he hears the news. he was already crushing on you big time and now that you like him back, he’s convinced your soulmate. shamelessly, connie asks (it’s more of a statement) that you go on a date. you cant believe he knows. you want to just disappear when he confronts you but he doesn’t understand why. “am i coming on too strong? hold on, i can get weak in the knees real quick.”

levi ackerman acts like he doesn’t know about your feelings for him. his behavior isn’t much different than when he didn’t know- his eye’s just tend to linger on you a bit longer. his gaze makes you feel…violated. it’s like he’s looking right through you or undressing you with his eyes. hard to tell. he continues driving you crazy in various subtle ways until you can’t take it anymore and wind up confessing at him in a ‘why are you doing this to me’ moment. he just laughs.

reiner braun's interest is piqued, that's for sure. he's not so smooth about it, always turning into a flustered mess when he's around you. you, now beginning to panic he knows your secret, turn into a shorter flustered mess. your awkwardness makes all your friends laugh and they just tease you more, which causes more stuttering and the cycle repeats. eren's the one who finally sets you up, not able to bare any more of reiner's incoherence.

bertholdt hoover makes the brave decision of telling you how he feels. he doesn't pick the greatest time. he tells you in front of all your friends and that leaves you feeling a little pressured. so, you get up and drag him away from everyone. the two of you share a raw confessional in peace and quiet. it leaves your heart full.

zeke jaeger texts you as soon as eren tells him. he doesn't wait for any more clarification. the text reads, heard you're basically in love with me. I'll pick you up later: a man of his word, he comes and picks you up. you try to him he's ridiculous but he knows you're his future wife.

erwin smith does his best to avoid you. a crush is meaningless to him.but fuck, the way you look at him makes his heart stop. he's beginning to think that there's something wrong with him- he can't breathe when you're around him. one night, he has too much wine to drink and accidentally lets it slip that he knows. he decides he doesn't care anymore and kisses you on the forehead, leaving you confused about the way he feels about you.

porco galliard's too fucking cocky. he starts spreading the rumor himself once he gets wind of it. he tells everyone he knows, bragging about it over and over. the rumor makes it's way back to you and you want to cry. so, that's what you do. you know everyone knows, so he must know. porco catches you crying and is upset with himself for spreading it. he didn't know you'd be so embarassed, considering he ‘obviously feels the same way’

please go read my jean fic 🤍

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ That heavy breathin' on the floor ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | Sevika x ftm!reader (customer) | Silco x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, angst | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD + partly written on my phone | wc: 17k

warnings: violence against a sw, police brutality, r! is nearly assaulted but is saved, r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, strap-on, minor daddy kink (sevika), pussy-eating, choking, slapping, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used), murder, graphic depictions of violence

masterlist; pt. 1; pt. 2

authors note: this kind of gets a bit heavy at the end with themes of injustices against s*x workers along side police brutality and r! nearly getting assaulted by a haughty rich dude from Piltover. If its it's too heavy, please prioritize yourself ! *song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander (202cm), Sevika (185cm), and Silco (182cm) in this fic.

"So, how'd you decide this career was the best course of action in your life?" your lips twitch at the question. Well, less of the question and more of the person asking; there was an accent these Topsiders have. Dripping with condescension and haughtiness. It was like they were bred to have their noses pointed up, as if there was some sort of treasure up those pin-holes.

"You're asking for my life story?" you drawl, watching as his hands crawl up your thighs. They were splotchy with age spots, but plumper than the old timers from here. Figures. You split your legs for him and he wets his lips. "You get off on that sort of things?" you throw an arched brow his way, a look he dismisses with a wanton grope of your unclothed cunt.

"If I say I do, you'd have to indulge, correct?"

Even the way he asks his questions felt like he was talking down to you.

You hated events like these. The brothel hosted them for the handful of clients who could afford to rent out a whole floor for themselves, usually they were sleazy Topsiders with their stupid little kids who'd come of age.

Easier to pop all sorts of cherries in the underbelly of Piltover because 'they'd do just about anything for some coin!'

You take a long drag of your hookah while the old fuck grinds his palm to your dick. It's strange how soft his hands are. You're used to callouses, palms that strike with power behind them and grips that bruises. This was pathetic.

"My dad bailed on my mom before he knew I was even conceived," his eyes glimmer with morbid curiosity. He rubs his hands up and down, a tepid rhythm that sincerely lacks in any semblance of pleasure. "My poor, young, dumb, mother. She tried really, really, really hard." "Did she?"

You nod, looking off at the floor where a whore was sucking off another Topsider; laid on her belly between his legs on the cushions and duvets. The theme of this event had been some dumbass ancient civilization. With white toga's and golden wreaths some of their kids spent a week working on.

"She worked her ass off. Determined to make life worth living for me."

"Did she work...here?"

There it was. That sick fascination. He didn't even know if this story was real, you could be bullshitting him but it doesn't matter. As he strokes your cock, his eyes gleam with a cruelty that only men of his status could possess. Pain was a fetish; it was a welcomed one even. But this? This fetish that he has, of listening to sob stories and fulfilling his torture fantasy. Did he think he was better than a sexual sadist because his hands were soft and wimpy?

He must. Perhaps he even thinks this line of questioning elevates him from your usual customers. Makes this all feel more 'ethical'.

It was funny seeing a predator file their teeth down into shiny sparkling stubs (his veneers were blinding) but forget they still had claws. Your lips curl away from your teeth, in disgust and rising anger.

Then Doe appears in front of you. Her hands stroking up your thighs as she blocks the Topsider's face from yours. The twitch in your brow is hidden behind your mask, but the corners of your mouth twist in confusion. She slips her fingers into his hold, giggling as he greets her.

"Mr. Erikson," she returns the flirting he dishes out, slipping his finger under the strap of her toga and tugging it down. When she brushes her hair over her shoulder, she gives you a pointed expression.

Calm the fuck down, was written all over her face. When she flits her eyes to your trembling hand, you loosen your grip on the hookah and click your teeth. She climbs smoothly onto that old fuck's lap, distracting him with her perky tits while you walk away.

The beaded curtains rattle angrily as you sulk past the threshold. Glaring at every privileged little fuck there on your way out of the hall. When a blonde man tried to grasp at your wrist you tug it away with a snarl. Fucking Topsiders. Going to the Undercity to get their dicks wet, maybe even delude some poor shit into thinking that they could be more. As if they'd ever marry anyone from here, or claim the children they fathered.

Because that's what Topsiders do. They take. All they know to do is take and take and take with no regard nor care —

A hand grabs at your wrist, harshly tugging you back and when you spin you grab the brooch at your shoulder and unclasp it to press the point to Sevika's neck. Your eyes widens and she lets out a low whistle.

"Hello to you too."

"Fuck, Sevika," you hastily bring your 'weapon' down, mindlessly clipping it to the golden make-shift rope-belt at your hip. She lets your wrist go while you lean in to make sure you hadn't actually drawn blood.

"Don't just grab me like that," you chastise. She takes notice of your get-up then glances towards the muffled noises of the hall behind you. "You finished in there?" she asks.

You should tell her no. You'd been asked for by name from the Topsiders, having done well at a previous party like this.

"Yeah. You want me for the night?" she shifts the tooth pick to the other side of her grin, reaching another hand to tug you in by your waist. "C'mon baby, say it nicely."

Sevika tilts her head, her rough hands making your lashes tremble. Both of her hands grab firmly at your ass, hitching you up and close. Her firm body, the scent of smoke and ash and alcohol easing you down as they mingle with Sevika's naturally smoky cologne. Judging from the bag of coin she has hidden in her jacket — that you can feel from under your hand — she was most likely in a good mood from winning a game.

"Say it sweet, how'd you'd ask those Topsiders to fuck you?" she's just getting a rise out of you. It wasn't a secret to Sevika that you despised the Topsiders. Even if you never ranted to her about it, every time they walked into the establishment your mask could barely keep your expression of dismay at bay.

You narrow your eyes at her. Smoothly slipping a hand into her jacket and taking the bag of coins out and holding it out of her reach when she tries to grab it.

"You think you deserve to fuck me?" you play along with her game. Leaning your face in to hers, your mask brushing her cheek. "Little limp dicks like you can barely make me hard, much less cum." Sevika's grip is bruising. The fabric of your toga nearly giving away to her harshness. Sevika was going to fuck you just the way you needed. Fast and hard; a true Zaunite in every way.

Your mask had been tossed aside, most likely on the floor of your room somewhere. The spray-painted golden wreaths, brooch, and belt were safely placed onto one of the dressers. The toga did not get that much grace though. Having been ripped away from your body as Sevika spun you around to pin you down on your stomach at the edge of the semi-circle bed.

"Sevika!" you exclaim in genuine alarm. She can still hear the smile in your voice so she just stares at the cloth material in her hands and breathes out a laugh. It lands next to you while she takes off her cloak.

"That cost money?" she questions mindlessly. You turn over on your back, staring up at her, stark naked. She'd spit out the toothpick before she smashed your lips together up the stairs, yet somehow she's found a cigarette to put between her teeth.

"Yeah," you replied in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to your nightstand to grab your box of matches. Striking one to light. She leans over you, her rough hands feeling up your split thighs and you light up her cigarette for her.

"I bought the damn fabric." "Cheap fabric," she replies as she pulls climbs on the bed. Her clothed body pressed against yours.

"Or maybe you're just freakishly strong," you retort with a huff.

"I'll pay extra," she laughs when you raise your brows.

Whores. So easy.

"Fuck, Sevika." She strokes your dick with her fingers which makes your breath hitch. "Yuh - You're gonna...You have to slow down."

"I know you can take more than this." You scowl at her, she just presses down on your poor dick. "I'm talking about gambling, dumbass. You're getting the extra coin from it, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes, grabbing you face in her other hand and smushing your cheeks — involuntarily making your lips purse out like a fish while she stares down at you. The white smoke slithering up into the air making her grey eyes shine like a vengeful spirit.

"You don't want me here spoiling your ass?" she says gruffly, her fingers now slipping down to your winking hole and smearing your slick over it. "Who else is gonna remind this hole how rough you need it?"

Your eyes soften. She can see your resolve melt as she slips a finger inside of you, she groans just as your brows twitch and knit together. Anal was Sevika's wheelhouse. She always made your entire body shiver and shake when she gets in the mood to fuck you as if you were nothing but her personal flesh light.

"Fuh - fuck you," you hiss out. She knows you don't mean it. Because your customer's moods was your own wheelhouse. You know how they like to play, how much chase they want, how much biting they love. It's why your roster of clients were oddly attached to your fox mask.

She brings her hand to your neck and watch as your back arches of the bed as she fingerfucks your ass while she has her thumb inside of your cunt. Her cigarette was beginning to burn too much and when the ashes drop onto your thigh, you squeak in alarm but don't tell her to stop. So she simply doesn't.

Sevika occasionally slips her fingers back inside of your cunt to gather more lube and you only give her a whine of displeasure.

"You're fine," she reassures, "I'm the first Jane of the night, right?"

When you give her a quizzical look she laughs.

"Your ass is way too tight. Either I'm the first of the night or there's some micro dicks at that party."

"You're way too fuckin' cocky, you know that?"

When Sevika has you fully stretched out, she gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching your chest raise and fall as you're splayed out on the bed whilst she takes off her clothes and grabs at the cloak and bag she dropped on the ground. Your thighs were wet from your own slick and the lube she'd fished out from your drawers, you watch her move when you lift your arm away from your face.

She's putting on her strap. Just the sight of it has both of your holes clenching. Sevika smushes the cigarette in an ash tray and whistles, twisting her wrist to point down and you hate how much your stomach flutters at the casual dominance. You get on your hands and knees, face pressed to the bed. She grabs the globes of your ass, stroking her dick in the other hand.

"...Are you waiting for me to beg?" you wonder after a moment.

"Might be nice to hear." Your laughter makes her grin. Not that you could see it. You take a few breaths, then look at her from over your shoulder.

"C'mon, daddy. Fuck me." You whine out. Sevika stares on. Unimpressed. You curl your lip, twisting your upper half a bit further to stare back.

"That's a classic."

"I've heard better."

"Hah! From who? Doe?" you fully lay on your side now, smirking as you look up at her. "You're real sweet on her, huh?"

When Sevika grunts, you throw your head back to laugh. She grabs at your ankles but you kick her efforts away and drag yourself further up the bed. She calls out your name flatly but you just giggle.

"You are," you purr. "Thought you said falling for whores are for chumps."

Sevika narrows her eyes, grabbing at your calf and tugging you back down. You squeal, still smiling even when she grabs your ripped toga to tie your wrists together and pull it between your legs as she bends them so far forward your knees are nearly touching your chest.

"Struck a nerve, daddy?" you challenge. Her dick catches on the rim of your asshole, pressing but not breaching.

"You're such a fucking brat. Just a fiend for this kind of shit, huh? Like it rough?"

The thick head of it presses in and you groan. The noise airy — as if she'd knocked it out of you by simply pressing in despite the resistance.

"Your wolfman fuck you like this too?"

You make a noise. Half-squeak and half-gasp, brows furrowing and jumping in alarm when she just slams in more than half of her cock inside.

"Fuck!"

"He fucks your ass like this?"

She readjusts her stance, the bed creaking as she keeps your body at her complete mercy. Pinned under her frame, hands tied up and pulled by her strength while her thick cock is intently filling your ass up. The position makes her hit all the right spots, and you want nothing more than to drown in the overwhelmingly delicious pressure she's pulling you into. But her questions has caught you completely off guard.

"Sevika," you moan out, pushing at her waist with your weak fingers, trying to relieve some of the pleasure. She slopes her brows in faux concern.

"Yeah, you're sweet on him, aren't ya'?"

She slides into you some more, the veins on her cock making your toes curl as your hole clenches around her. She groans as though she can feel it. And you toss your head back.

"You're fucking huge," you whine out.

"Is he bigger or smaller?"

You roll your eyes at her and she smirks. She inches back a few then just drops all her weight down. The moan you let out is nonexistent, mouth opened in a silent scream as your back arches and your vision goes white.

"He make you feel that good?" You suck in a quick breath, as if remembering you could but she doesn't let up.

"I definitely touched something there, huh?"

She starts thrusting. Shallow but quick, just pistoning in and out of your poor ass while your cunt weeps out for a sliver of attention. She ignores it all in favour of waiting for you to flutter your pretty eyes open.

"Duh - daddy," you hiccup out and she just pulls your tied hands out from between your thighs to instead pin above your head.

"S'little too late to act nice, sweet cheeks." You mewl, hips bucking as she continues her onslaught. "Daddy, plea - ah!" The smack of her palm against your ass has your entire body jolting.

"It's a yes or no, baby."

Tears darken your lashes, you bring your hand to her face and use any bit of core strength you have to press your lips with hers but she simply pushes your face down. Not by your neck. No. She's intentionally cruel as she has the space between her thumb and pointer right under the top row of your teeth.

As she thrusts out moan after moan, all you can do is let her hear it. It's humiliating. The noises you make are all choked up, saliva is beginning to pool from the corners of your mouth. No matter how much you thrash or push or try to buck, she just continues to rail you.

You know Sevika would stop if you tapped at her four times in a row. It was something the both of you had long established as a non-verbal safe-word when there's a craving for something harder.

She knows you know how to stop her if you need to. You don't. So she ploughs into you, groaning as she watches you struggle.

"C'mon baby, that's it." She's purring, sweat beading down her face as her hair comes undone. She's a vision like this. Her strong arms flexing under the low lights, her firm stomach clenched as though you were truly milking her cock. It makes you a bit delirious, especially when she's chewing on her lower lip and looking down at you like this.

"Cum around my cock. Like a proper bitch," you groan, knowing she's close from the way her grip on you tightens.

You're feeling the building pressure finally reaching its peak and you bite down on her hand, glaring at her as you moan around her flesh. She just smiles, wide and proud. A true predator.

Her teeth sharp just like her claws.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your cunt pathetically squirt, the wetness just urging Sevika on as she forces you to bite down harder.

"You alright?"

Vander's voice feels like an ice pack against bruised skin. An apt metaphor considering he was putting an ice pack to your bruised ass.

"Mmm," he chuckled at your muffled response. After Sevika and you got scolded by your madame, you sought refuge at The Last Drop. Of course, Sevika simply thought you wanted a drink and you had. You hung around her side until she got swept up into a game of poker and slipped away to the back. All under Vander’s watchful eye.

He had grabbed an ice pack just as you slipped through the back, tapping another bartender’s shoulder to take over while he went upstairs. Which is where he found you. In his bedroom, shimmying out of your outfit and looking at him with those pleading eyes.

“You’re off early,” he kneaded at the back of your thighs, watching as your muscles jumped and twitched. “You tapped out?”

He sounds rightfully surprised. You’re not the type to just get off work early because of a bruised ass. You’re tougher than most of everyone here. You stare at him, face smushed against your crossed arms. He reaches to brush some hair away, and you melt further on his mattress.

“Darling?” you frown but finally confess. “I ran away from some dumbass party that the madame was hosting for some Topsider fucks.”

“You thought I’d be angry knowin’ that?” Vander arches a brow. Laying down next to you, trusting that The Last Drop could handle just a few more minutes without him. “You’re allowed to be angry at them. Shits bloody unfair.”

You get on your elbows, placing your chin in your palm while he looks down at you.

“Aren’t you angry at them?” you watch his expression shift. It’s a barely noticeable twitch, really it could be written off as a muscle spasm if anything.

“Aren’t you tired of being angry at them?” you continued.

“I put those dreams on the shelf a long time ago,” he attempts to soothe you by cupping your face. It works, just barely, but you lean into his warmth. “I’ve got too much to lose. This place, the kids.” He pauses and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his pinkie tilting your head up.

“You.”

The comfortable silence washes over. You take a breath and sigh, nuzzling into his large palm. The sweet act has him smiling, glad you drop the topic and using his strength to pull you to lay on his front.

“Sorry, I’m a little dirty.”

��Mm, I like you dirty.”

He laughs. The action jostling you a bit but you simply wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you firm.

“You could just work here.” He runs his hand down your back, kneading his thumbs in at a few knots. You groan into his ear, shaking your head. “You dunno’ what you’re sayin’”

“I’m serious,” he adjusts the ice pack and you shiver a bit as the its sweat drips down between your thighs. “Bar could always use a nicer face than mines.”

“Derek’s pretty enough.” Vander laughs. It rumbles in his throat this time and you grin just hearing it.

“B’sides, you’re plenty handsome.”

“Yeah, but not one of us compare to you, darling.” You hum in agreement, sighing as he works more knots loose.

“Don’t have ta’ come here to lick your wounds if there’s no wounds to lick. Could spend more time with Powder and Claggor, the kids are fond of ya’”

Your eyes slip open. Heart squeezing fondly at the mention of those little rascals. Vander and you aren’t exactly a thing, not said outloud anyways, but he introduced you to his kids. That meant something. He taught you how to sneak into his room too. When your landlord had to kick you out for a few weeks to accommodate for her lame ass nephew, you sheltered at The Last Drop and well, you all bonded.

The guilt in your heart stabbing into you night after night as more feelings poured into this already tumultuously boiling pot of emotions.

But Silco thought it was a good thing. He’d probably be telling you to take Vander’s deal on becoming this weird stay-at-home bartender/boyfriend/babysitter to get more information. Whether it be from Sheriff Grayson or the ever restless Vi.

“Think about it?” Vander blinks up at you when you lift your head. When your lips meet, it’s sweet. Slow and sensual, more lips than tongue. Pecks and real long-lasting ones. You murmur his name and he whispers yours back.

“You not sore?”

“Fuck me slow?”

He smiles and claims your lips again. Vander drifts his hand to the ice pack and removes it. The thud it makes when it falls to the ground makes you giggle, so he attacks your neck next; you give him free reign, gasping when he switches your positions to have laid down next to him.

You’re not even sure what happens next. One moment he’s clothed and the next he’s not as he practically snuggle fucks you on your side. He doesn’t have a bed frame but the springs in his mattress makes a few jostling noises as his cock slid in and out of your cunt.

“Vander, ah-mmphf, fuuuuck,” you press your face into the pillow and simply let him move you around. Completely at his mercy as he holds your waist.

Sevika glanced up at the faint thuds she was hearing above her. But refocuses on the table before her, scoffing at her competitor's lame poker face. Someone turned up the juke box and the noises are a distant memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he lifts one of your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the underside of your arm and brushing his teeth there. The sensation of his beard makes you shiver.

“Deeper, please, Vander. Need you s’much deeper.” He kisses you, pulling out to readjust his position. You’re still laid on your side and he straddles your left leg and slides his thick cock inside of you again. Your voice trembles.

“There, darlin’?” you nod, whimpering when he rocks his hips in and out of you. You clutch at the bedsheets, turning your face into the pillow again as your cunt clenches down around him.

“Fuck, c’mon. Don’t push me out,” Vander threads his fingers through your hand and gently, as if you were made of glass instead of jagged metal, turns your head to him.

“Easy, loosen up a bit. Can’t fuck you how you need me to if you’re too tight.”

You whine, taking a few breaths and trying your best not to clench around him. Fuck, he was so thick. Even if you weren’t clenching, you were sure he’d still feel snug. He thanks you with a kiss to your forehead, gently shushing you when he moves again.

“Vuh...Vander...fuuuck, baby, please.”

“I’ve got ya’, come on, cum f’me.”

“You — Are you —”

Vander grunts, nodding as you once again clamp down on him. He knows you’re close, right on the edge and he wants to follow and dive with you. He kisses you, practically straling your breath away as his thrusts get sloppier and harsher. You mewl, nails digging into the back of his hands. Your orgasm washes over like a wave, your hips bucking as Vander feels your cum spurt around his dick and balls. He’s close behind, filling your insides with thick ropes of cum. He’s murmuring something into your skin. Something you can’t make out.

“Shit, shit.”

When he pulls out, your cunt clenched around nothing but air. Twitching and pulsing just like your little dick, aftershocks of pleasure running through you. His cum begins oozing out between your legs and he pants at the sight. You do nothing to stop him when he places you on your back — putting a pillow under your ass — and dives his head between your legs.

“Vander,” you moan out. Breath hitching as he licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Let me do this for you,” he mumbles, groaning at the taste of your cum and his mixing together on his tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

You stretch your arms above your head while he eats your boypussy out like he’s a starved man. His beard wet with your juices as your writhe on the bed. He doesn’t even tease, just intently cleaning and eating you out. You moan weakly for him, voice hoarse from servicing the Sevika and now fucking Vander.

You pinch your brows, squirming on the bed and gasping airily as Vander eases you into your nth orgasm of the day.

When you reach that peak, he eases you back down from the clouds. Carefully stroking over your thighs as he watches you catch you breath.

This is where you belong, he thinks. On his bed, legs spread and boycunt leaking with his cum; his name coming out your lips and his hands on your thighs. Vander presses kisses up your hips and chest, finally giving you a kiss on the lips.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles and you trust him enough to slip your eyes closed.

“Just rest,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

Quitting was a sordid affair. There'd been a few passive aggressive claims from your madame about you crawling back and you calling her a cunt. Despite that, the both of you still acknowledge each other when she does walk into The Last Drop — it's hard to hate the woman who'd been generous enough to teach you everything you needed to know to survive.

The month that passed had been smooth sailing. You've gotten closer to Vander and his kids, even Benzo's little protege Ekko had come around to you. Which interests Silco, so you get close to Benzo. When Powder needs help with carrying stuff to his shop, you help. The guy was loyal to a fault and stubborn just like Silco had mentioned.

The first lesson you'd been taught in your ex-profession had been not to get feelings involved. Don't even dare to associate with customers who begin to get emotionally invested — it was bad for business in the long run. Sex isn't complicated but once you tangle in feelings? Bad mix for you. But when it came to listening in and relaying information, that career devastating choice is a powerful weapon. To turn trust into a dagger and thrust it under their ribs, tilting the blade up to hear that poor sucker suffer with each inhale.

So why is it so different this time?

How could you tuck in Powder at night and then sneak off to meet Silco in the docks to tell him what you'd overheard from Vander, Benzo, and Sheriff Grayson's discussions?

Were you that heartless?

Revolution is messy, Silco had once told you. It takes blood, sweat, tears, guts, and more guts. You don't ask for permission and you certainly don't ask for forgiveness after. Violence was necessary for change. Vander had lost sight of that, gotten soft.

But isn't it too cruel to play with his heart this way?

Would he love you if he knew what you were fighting for?

Would he condemn you for how you want respect?

He'd given you free roam of his home. Let his kids get attached to you. Gave you a job. All because he loves you.

"Is this really okay?" Vi says, which pulls you out of your thoughts. Your pupils shrink, turning to face her with your brows near your hairline.

Right. You were at the river with the kids.

The water gleamed and glimmered with metal wreckage in the bottom. There was also the unmistakable sheen of oil in it, but it honestly just added colour to the teal. The kids had breathed in worse, besides, it wasn't everyday they get to swim and just act their age.

"What? It's harmless," you snicker out, smoothly recovering as you lean back on your hands. She frowns, standing next to you on the banks. Vi constantly looks up at every little noise. Even if her head didn't turn, it was like the tip of her ears would just flick up like a vigil cat.

"Vi, it's fine. We're allowed to be here," you peer down at Claggor teaching Powder how to squirt out water between their palms while Mylo is on the shore. Wet and a bit glum looking as he shakes off the water from his hair.

"It's good to get a bit of sunlight," you tell Vi as you swing your legs over and smile as Powder accidentally shot a stream of water up Claggor's nose with amazing accuracy. Mylo laughs and Claggor splashes the water back over him. Her furrowed brow softening the tiniest bit.

It quickly returns as she turns her attention to the tall buildings with their golden ornaments and expensive detailing. You lean on your hands, nudging her leg with your elbow to pull her back.

"Hey, bet if you aim just right you can splash Mylo, Claggor, and Powder when you dive." She raises a brow, smirking at you.

Vi and you didn't have the best beginnings. She knew what your profession was and Mylo didn't exactly help with his long tales of the 'rumours' he's heard. Vander could protect himself, she knows this, but she got prickly when you had unceremoniously moved in during your landlord-nephew fiasco. Over some time though, she finds herself liking your more cynical nature. Although you acknowledge that they're kids, you also give them more credit than most adults do. It's nice feeling respected as a person.

"Hah! What are you betting?" You open your mouth to put an offer of some coins when the yell of an enforcer makes you twist your head and instantly clamber onto your feet.

"You! Stay there!" He yells, his blue uniform gleaming under the light. It's so rare seeing them all armoured up above ground. The sight should mean that you were well within your rights to be here, if he wore the armour that meant you were close enough to the Lanes to get him uncomfortable.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go!" Vi nods and instantly hurries to gather her siblings attention, Claggor lifting Powder out the water and rushing to the shore while Mylo gathers their clothes. You know the enforcers would take some time climbing down — especially with his dumbass protective wear — so you use those precious minutes to ensure every one of them were ahead of you.

"(Y/N)!" Powder and Mylo call out when they hear you yell behind them. Vi skids to a stop, eyes wide when you find yourself pressed to the brick wall.

"Just go! Go!" she hesitates and you grit your teeth. "GO!"

The enforcer turns his gaze to them, his harsh breathing against your ear making you shudder. Vi is helpless as she grabs Mylo and Powder's wrist to tug them forward.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" you seethe out as you feel him patting you down.

"Not loiterin', not skulking, we were just - Fuck! Take it easy!" he kicks your ankles apart and you try to spin around only to get backhanded by your faceless attacker. He covers your eyes with his gloved hand, moving your head here and there as though he was inspecting you.

"Yeah, you're him," his mask makes his voice sounded inhumane. A machine-like quality that zaps out any bit of remorse or compassion from him. "You fuckin' slut."

Crumpling to the floor, you quickly cover your head and curl up when you see his boots flying in your direction.

Powder can only see glimpses of this violence as she turns her head back. Vi tells her to focus but she can't. Because all she sees is you on the floor, torso bare because you'd been swimming, bare foot too; hair wet, completely defenseless. Your grunts of pain echoing through the tunnel and your eyes having relief in them as the kids narrowly escape.

"What happened?" is Vander's first question when they all tumbled into The Last Drop. Instantly straightening up at Vi's distraught expression. It was still too early for anyone to have stumbled in, even by the Lanes standard, so he gave them all his attention.

"Vi?"

"We - we were just - we were just swimming," Mylo breathes through his nose, knees nearly buckling at the fright and rush of adrenaline. Their run through the underground, barefoot, and wet had certainly brought enough attention as is. Vander ushered them to get in, locking the front doors as they all suddenly find their voices.

"He said it was safe, they just, they grabbed him!" Vi is beginning to stomp, and Claggor nods along.

"(Y/N)?" Vander asks and Powder nods, eyes brimming with tears as she turns her attention to the doors. You should be bursting through it right now. Why weren't you?

"We were just swimming," Mylo repeats. Vander grabs his jacket. "I'm going with you!" Vi announces.

"Your feet are bleeding," he points out. "All you'd do is get in the way. Everyone of you stay here. I'll fix this."

Powder watches on as Vander rushes out the front door. Vi is still arguing, attempting to follow along either way but whatever shit she got trapped in her skin causes her to wince and falter. Claggor catches her, attempting to guide her to the chairs while Mylo is repeating the same thing.

"We were just swimming."

Topsiders had a weird thing for grudges. You understood that better than most. Eye for an eye and all that. But for Topsiders? It seemed rejection was worthy of a grudge. When you come to from the haze, you're on the wooden floors of a familiar face's house. His figure comes in fours, then twos, and finally come together in one.

Mr. Erikson. From that dumbass toga event at the brothel.

He's much more hideous in brighter lights. His plump cheeks and beady eyes more prominent. You cough, attempting to get up onto your feet only to be kept down as a familiar boot presses down on your shoulder. The bruise that was already blooming there made you grit your teeth while he harshly stomped down. Erikson winces, waving his hand to make the enforcer stop.

"Not so rough now. If he's too broken, it'll be painful to look at."

Glaring venomously at him as you stubbornly peel yourself off the floor and onto your staggering feet. The world spins but you stomp your foot to get some sense of equilibrium. There's a pounding in your head that pierces through your eyes and there's blood in your mouth; but all you can feel right now is the numbness in your limbs and the rapid pulse in your neck,

"I named you to your madame. The fox with the sweet (S/C) skin and pretty lips. The boy with the tightest cunt I've ever felt. You were there at a previous party, my other son's birthday."

You spit out some blood, wiping it away with the back of your hand as you sway in your spot. He curls his nose but continues.

"I had been hoping to give you as a gift to my youngest, Troy. But then you left, and when I asked for you again your madame wouldn't tell me just where you went. "

"You fucking kidnapped me because I wouldn't fuck you and your son on his birthday?"

The incredulity of the entire situation makes you choke out a laugh. Even with your spinning vision, this office was clearly that of someone who made decent money. With its mahogany bookshelves and leatherbound covers. Some books here were probably older than your ass, much more priceless too. Hell, you bet even that stupid fucking nameplate with the name Stephen Erikson carved into the gold had costs more than you.

"She said you quit. It was very hard to find you, considering the masks and all." He sniffles derisively. Off-put by your brash display. You were so nice and tender at the brothel, now you were acting like a completely different person.

"There's other guys with cunts, you geriatric chaser —" The enforcer backhands you again and it sends you flying to a shelf, a few books tumbling down while you desperately try not to fall on your ass.

"Troy," the old man reprimands with a drawl. He turns his attention back to you; "We'll pay you handsomely for a night."

You shake your head, digging your nails into the wood as your vision spins again. Troy, that shit, takes off his helmet and he's much more honest compared to his father; his fetish for pain was evident. Perhaps Stephen hadn't filed his teeth like you'd thought. Maybe they were just made to grind bones to dust, prolong their preys pain because unlike a predator with their fangs these teeth aren't for a merciless death.

Clearly he had learned this from his father who was enabling this behaviour. He probably taught him everything he needed to know anyways. You pant as you notice the painted family portrait on the wall of the study. Mr. Erikson and his three sons, all wearing their Enforcer's badge with pride. You recognized them all, each stupid event flashing through your head and each memory makes you more and more nauseous.

"I'm a fucking bartender now, I don't do that shit anymore" you growl out. Stephen sighs, leaning back in his leather tuft chair, looking completely bored by this entire insane exchange.

"Troy tells me he found you with a few kids. Yours?" When you say nothing in reply, he takes your seething silence as a yes. "Following your mothers footsteps, are you?" He shakes a bag of coins. Then tosses it onto the floor, golden pieces spilling out in front of you.

"You can work your ass off. Make life worth living for them."

There was a knock at the door. You waste no time and yell but get the breath knocked out of you as Troy swiftly pins you to the book shelf, a gloved hand over your mouth as he holds your hips in place with his own. Your skin prickles, just his weight on you has your stomach feeling sick.

"Who the hell is that?" Troy hisses at his father, his blue eyes panicked. The old man, as cool as a cucumber, simply tells the person on the other side to state their business.

"It's just the bloody maid," he scoffs out.

But the maid does not state their business. It's just pure silence on the other end until there's suddenly pounding. It makes the old man stand and Troy loosens his grip so you bring your knee between his legs. As he curls over you shove him away and retreat into a corner just as the door bursts open.

You recognize them. Ran, Lock, a few other nameless goons who you don't quite remember, and in the center of it all?

"Silco," you move and you fall to your knees. His expression darkens. The men and women fill the room, crowding Troy and his father to the other end while Silco makes his way to you. He offers a hand and you take it, leaning against him as he looks you over. Your lip was cut and one side of your face was scratched up, bruised and sore. The fact that you were dressed for a swim, torso bare, and feet scratched up from being dragged, made his ire raise.

"They did this to you?" He shrugged his coat off, and slipped it around your shoulders. You drew the front closed, nodding as you tuck your head under his chin.

"I wouldn't fuck them and they got pissy," you whisper to him. Silco growls, the rumbling noise soothing you just like Vander's chuckle would. He cups your face in his hand, his pinkie sliding under your jaw and his thumb across your cheek.

"What is this? Who are you?" Stephen stands, reaching for something on his desk but getting slammed face first onto the hard wood. There's a loud crackling noise that follows and you flinch out of shock. Silco simply guides your head to his neck, one hand smoothing over the back of your head and sighing in relief as his palms lift with no crimson.

"Dad!" Troy's yell gets cut short when he's forced onto his knees. There was a scuffle, fists meeting face and knees slamming themselves into his diaphragm. A small smile twitches to your face as your eyes slip close. Silco squeezes you, jolting you a bit.

"Stay awake, come. Sit."

Silco moves casually. Setting you to lay down on the lounge chair in the study, taking his coat off your shoulders to instead drape it over your. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe away your blood while he kneels next to you. He takes his sweet time with you, his men keeping the pigs still as they both find themselves pinned down.

"I'd heard an enforcer had been snooping around the brothel. Asking for someone, demanding even" His voice makes your heart calm down, adrenaline ebbing away as he presses down on the cut on your eyebrow. The pain keeps you awake, but he still purses his lips at your hiss. Silco stands up, sighing softly. A kid comes to your side, offering you a flask of water. He's careful as he tilts your head up, watching intently as you sip it down.

"You're a proud man, aren't you Stephen?" Silco admires the family portrait, taking it the details of each face before he turns his attention to the table of trinkets below it. "A family of enforcers. Protecting the city you love." Silco tilts his head as he hears them struggle once again.

"While the city you constantly take from suffer from your greed."

"Fuckin' trencher," Troy spits out. His cheek pressed on by the heel of a boot. His blue eyes were shaking with indignation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Fissure Folk, Sump Rat, Undercity scum," Silco answers. He steps over Troy's head and jerks his chin to signal Lock to step away from Stephen. He does and Stephen inhales, his entire body shaking as he coughs and coughs. The impressive table creaked under the old man's rattling breathes.

Ran brings Silco the fallen leather tuft chair and he crosses his legs as he sits.

"I'm sure you boast about being a near native to the undercity. With how often you visit our brothels with your men and sons. Using our bodies for your sick desires then beating it when you have the uniform on. Pretending to be a saint as your city fills your pockets. As if you've actually done anything worthwhile."

Stephen continues to hack, wheezing and whimpering. Every breath he took felt like a blunt blade was scratching up his lungs. His ribs were broken, he was sure of it.

"Yet, despite how many hours you've spent with our men and women, you still fail to understand the most important thing about us." Silco spreads his legs, elbows on his knees as he leans in so Stephen was looking right into his eyes.

"We protect our own."

"Please," Stephen's voice sounded strained. Like air escaping out of a broken pipe, the pitch ear grating. "I'm sorry."

Silco openly observes Stephen's splotchy red face. Cheeks full and plump, his brows trimmed and his dyed hair shining unnaturally cherry red. The family potrait was recent, but the artist had covered up their earlier renditions of Stephen's wrinkles while his blonde sons all looked their current age.

"No, you aren't." He states dryly, motioning for the man to slam Stephen back onto the table, him howling in pain just as Ran switches the radio on.

A jaunty tune plays. The singer sighing about puppy love as the melodic background singers and stringed instruments accompany his voice. He leans back in the chair, nodding as Stephen's captor wrings his hands back.

"But you will be."

"No!" Troy twists and bucks like an animal. His eyes wide with horror. As if he hadn't intended to strip you of all your dignity just moments ago. The sight of that fear on their face, that dawn of realization; even when they don't realize that they're only getting what they deserve, it soothes a part of Silco's soul.

"No?" Silco repeats.

"What do you want?" Troy is pleading now. The sight of his old man's hand pulled behind his body, ready to be broken in half, causing him enough distress for tears to fill his eyes.

"We'll give you anything!"

"Troy!" Stephen wheezes out in retaliation. Silco looks at the golden nameplate on his desk and scoffs. Anything? This house wasn't in any impressive neighbourhood. The portrait maker had been shoddy in their cover-up. The trinkets had a fine sheet of dust across them and the books weren't kept in the best conditions. Their maid had been an old woman with her back hunched, making her shrink down to the height of a pre-teen. Tired, slow at work; not the best money could get.

They weren't rich by Piltover standards. It's why they go to the Undercity for their parties. Things were cheaper there and get even cheaper when you flash your badges.

"You've nothing I want." He says simply, making sure Troy felt that pit of dread consume him entirely.

"We didn't know, we didn't know he was yours" Troy squirms, but the thug above him with the lazy eye simply stomped down on him harder. Knocking the air out of him and making him bite down on his tongue hard enough it fills his mouth with blood.

"No, because all that mattered was he was a trencher and he'd rejected your money. So predictable."

Lock smirks as Silco jerks his chin again and begins pulling Stephen's arm the wrong way. He screeches like a sewer mouse. You find yourself coughing as you laugh, reaching a hand up to cover your eyes at the noises. The song kept playing, the contrast of its sweet melody and words to the scenario before you simply adding more fuel to your delirious humour.

"PLEASE!" The youngest son doesn't even try to fight when his enforcer badge does nothing to intimidate others. When he's in a room full of people who wanted nothing more than crush him, he tucks tail and shows off his underbelly.

You try to hear what Silco says next, but the headache begins to grow stronger and the blonde kid next to you panics when he notices your eyes fluttering close. "Hey," he hisses, drawing Ran's attention as they kneel by your side.

Their voices become a blur and unconsciousness beckons you so sweetly. As hard as you try to fight, you find yourself sinking into that dark embrace, floating into nothingness as the pain shrinks away.

There's an incessant purring next to you. Just under your left armpit, warm and comfortable. It's the only thing you can feel and hear, your senses still dulled. While your mind runs a million miles a second, your limbs feel heavy and locked; as if they'd turned into lead. You're trapped in your own mind. Your eyelids feel like bricks and as your eyes move under them, left to right and right to left, you feel his hand slip into yours.

"Easy now," that voice, that honeyed drawl. You breathe sharply through your nose and he squeezes your hand. "I'm here. Easy."

Silco lifts the darkness from your eyes and your vision takes its damn sweet time returning to you. You see him though. Shifting from a blurry figure to that face you adored so much. He offers a ghost of a smile, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he sees the wildness in your eyes tame itself. The damp rag across your eyes is placed back into the bowl.

"You're alright. The Doctor says your adrenaline just ran out," he pushes you down gently when you try to sit up. It was for the best, considering how much your body was aching. Not even in the sexy, satisfied, way. You wince, grunting when you fall back onto the mattress. The purring machine next to you lifts its head and you raise a brow at the furless cat. It yawns, looking a bit disgruntled at your movement but stubbornly staying put as it curls up.

Breathing ball sack aside, you ask Silco what happened.

"What do you remember?" he lets your hand go to squeeze out the water from the rag, wiping away the cold sweat on your neck. "You giving me your coat, then some girl squealing, but don't remember much after."

Your retelling makes him scoff, clearly amused. The sight of your bruised lips and face twists his mouth into a frown. "I should've been there sooner."

"Don't start with that, come on." You wince as your sides pulsed in pain, a boot shaped bruise already beginning to darken. "How'd you even find out about the Eriksons?"

"The kids were running down the Lanes barefoot and wet - " you gasp and cut him off.

"The kids!" You lurch up, the cat growling in discontent as it sprung up into an arched back pose from the sudden movement. Regret is instant and striking, your muscles screaming in pain and head pulsing once again. Silco steadies you by your shoulders, brows furrowing.

"Fuh - fuck, are they alright? He mentioned seeing them, Silco. Tell me those assholes are - "

"They're dealt with."

His tone makes you pause, you peer at him through your eyelashes. "Did you...?" he smiles but shakes his head.

"Him and his father are more useful alive. But a few bones were broken. He was in the academy with Sheriff Grayson's second in command, Marcus."

Silco leans in, pressing his forehead with yours. Uncaring of the dampness of your forehead or your hair. The tip of his nose brushes agaisnt your cheek and you flutter yours eyes at the feeling.

"So he's in your pocket?"

"I was worried," he dismisses the questions so blatantly you wring out a breathless laugh. "Your madame said she had a feeling who the enforcer was, if it weren't for her..."

"I would've been fine," you cup his marred cheek, allowing him to slip his arms around you. "I'm tough."

No, you're not, Silco wants to say. The fever you've developed from the stress and cold and the wounds on your body — you were a statue made off jagged metal but it didn't mean you couldn't get scratched, bent, melted. You would have survived but that didn't mean you should be going through such injustices.

"I plan on staying here until we're free," you promise to him as you slip your eyes closed. "I wanna see Zaun with my own eyes."

You feel him lean in closer and then his lips are on yours. Your brows knit together, the cut there stinging but you don't mind it. Silco kisses you like he wants to devour you. The heat he brings is like a glowing dagger; the silver steaming and glowing orange from the fire. Cutting you and cauterizing the wound at the same time. Painful, seeringly painful, but not deadly.

You part your lips, twisting your head as he clutches the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his hands making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, applauding him almost. You clutch at his vest, whispering his name as he tangles his tongue with yours.

Feeling you, holding you; Silco can't remember the last time he's felt this light and grounded at the same time. He was truly worried, you know. His heart dropping to his stomach when Deckard informed him about Vander's brats rushing through in complete panic. It was a random act of violence. Piltie's finest once again throwing their weight around.

You lean back and he chases. Your teeth clack together and you wince, so he kneads at your nape and lowers you back on the bed.

You should stop. This wasn't right. Your grip on Silco's vest loosens as you remember sweet Vander. Whose kisses felt like burning smoke going down your throat, filling your body with warmth that is entirely too phantom-like and too suffocating all the same. You shouldn't go further, you shouldn't. Silco slips a hand to your chest, pulling your thin blanket down and you wince, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. Silco and you pant heavily, the heat dissipating the longer you do.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head and assures you it's alright.

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. He's been looking for you. His accomplices too." Most patrons of The Last Drop had been anxiously waiting to hear your return. We take care of our own. Those just weren't pretty words. Benzo had told them to calm down, saying Vander will handle it but it was evident that a pin could drop and they'd turn over every little rock to find you.

Their respect for Vander's leadership is the only thing holding them back. It's holding you back too, he can tell. Ever since you'd moved in, you stray away from his touches. You've grown a sort of affection for Vander. Just like he had.

"Shit, I should head back then." Silco nods, helping you sit up. "The boy he says he's at the edge of the Lanes. Asking around."

It makes your heart flutter.

Ran looks you over when you walk up to them, a question in their eyes.

'You okay?'

"Could be better," you tell them. Dressed in an oversized shirt and your pants from earlier. They nod, reaching to slip their hand under your arm and you wince.

"Thanks for this and the save," they shrug and look ahead.

'Don't mention it.'

When you do spot Vander, your face brightens up. But Ran frowns, suddenly hiding behind a couple of crates. You don't quite get it until you see blue.

Vander was talking to an enforcer. Not just any enforcer either, the fucking sheriff.

"Grayson, I'm not askin' for much here," he growls out. She looks away, shaking her head. "You're not giving me much to go off on, Vander. The kids say he got taken by an enforcer for no reason in broad daylight but they can't even tell you any more details?"

"They were terrified, I'm sorry if they didn't come t'have a chat with 'em!"

Vander's muscles were tense, shoulders drawn and jaw clenched. He looked exhausted. His hair tousled from him constantly running his hands through them. The greys in his beard looking more prominent all of a sudden.

"Grayson, please."

Please.

He's begging for help from an enforcer.

You dislodge from Ran, giving them a nod as thanks before you limp towards them. The sound of your uneven footsteps makes their head snap your way. Vander whispers your name, then says it again with more volume as he rushes to hold you. He scans you, from top to bottom as he holds you in his arms.

"Shit, shit, you're okay." You're not, but your anger does calm the tiniest bit as he pulls you into a hug. Grayson looks at you and from over Vander's shoulders, you glare daggers into her. That fucking uniform, that breathing mask hung around her neck.

You still hear it. Vander pleading for help from her.

"Are you alright?" Sheriff Grayson says, coming close as Vander lets you go. You push him away, fists trembling as you walk towards her. Her eyes harden, lips pursing at your unrestrained strife.

"Screw you," you hiss, digging your pointer finger to her chest. "Screw everything you stand for."

Vander calls out your name, placing a hand on your shoulder that you shrug off. Even when your life had been in danger. Even when he could've done something. Vander remained a docile pet to Topside, begging for his masters help like a good lap dog.

Your lips tremble, tears filling your eyes.

"I'm here for you, (Y/N). If you could just tell me the name of the enforcer who'd done this to you, I can help you," Grayson tries to reason. Even when you were patched up, it was clear you'd been smacked around.

"It doesn't matter," you seethe out. "I just want to help, I can't if you don't tell me," you shake your head and walk past her.

"Fuck you."

"(Y/N)," Vander offers Grayson a glance but she shakes her head, turning away as he rushes after you. She watches the both of you, the anger in your posture so evident it makes her mouth twist.

Vander is quiet as you get inside the elevator. As it rumbles to life, you grip onto the railings instead of him and he tires to soothe you but you flinch away from him. "Darlin'" he places a hand on your shoulder and you spin, gnashing your teeth as you yell.

"Sheriff Grayson!? You went to her!?"

"What else was I meant to do?" He grits out.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!" you throw a fist at his chest, he lets you.

"I was fucking terrified, do you - do you know how fucked it was!? He grabbed me off the damn street! He fucking -" you inhaled sharply as your ribs screamed in pain. If you closed your eyes you could hear the thudding noise of his feet flying to your body.

Vander feels his heart drop and he tilted your head up. His large hand cupping your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You're running hot, fever returning as your emotions ran high.

"I was so scared, Vander." Your sob pierced through his chest. Nothing had compared to that pain of letting you down. Nothing. Not when the skin of his knuckles ripped apart or when enforcer bullets whizzed past his ears and made his hearing tune into a high pitched ring or when he'd been stabbed. He gathered you in his arms, despite your weak pushes and protests. He holds you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin, just holding you there.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Heads raised the second the doors opened. You blinked in surprise at the sight of the usual patrons. A blue blur rushed towards you and you grunted at her tight hug but smile down at her.

"Hey, Powder..." you pressed her face to your stomach, rubbing her back as she sobbed in relief. Vi approaches you next, showing a rare moment of softness as she slips under your open arm. Milo and Claggor rush in as well and you wince a bit but just laugh softly. Ekko sighed out in relief, Benzo's eyes softening at the sight.

"You all worried about me?" you give the patrons a coy smile that they scoff at but the relief was evident. "Cut the bullshit and stop smiling," Sevika says, crossing her arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Vander drapes his jacket around your shoulder. "Story for another time. How about some free drinks, yeah?" the mood lightens up a bit, despite the question hanging heavily in the air.

Powder is glued to you, sniffling as she clings but you don't mind. "C'mon, let's go down," you tell the kids and they nod. Milo rambles about what he'd done if you weren't caught off-guard. Vi shaking his head at him while Claggor just helped you down the stairs.

"He alright?" Benzo asks Vander when he comes around to the bar. Derek waves Vander away, pouring everyone a drink and Vander nods appreciatively his way as he sits. "No, he isn't" he confesses, glaring at the bottles of liquor, at his reflection in them.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!"

Benzo slides him his pipe and Vander simply holds it in his hands. The look in your eyes. That disappointment etched into every line on your face. The rage that flowed down your cheeks. Vander brought the apparatus to his lips, lighting a match and inhaling to calm his shot nerves.

"He'll be alright. He's the tough sort, yeah?" Benzo places a heavy hand on Vander's shoulder, tilting his frame down a bit. "He was scared, Benzo."

"He was scared and I couldn't do anythin'."

"Powder, I'm okay," you reassured for the fifth time in a row. You don't dare try to peel her away from you but you do make an effort to calm her trembling frame. Poor thing was shaking like a damn leaf as she laid besides you on her bottom bunk. Vi smiles wryly, just watching the scene with more emotion than a kid her age should have. Ekko peers down from the top bunk, asking if the cut brow hurt and you just scrunch your nose and laugh.

"Nah, come on. I'm not a wimp, Little Man."

Mylo nudges Ekko, echoing your statement in his own words. Claggor appears, holding a cup of some warm water and offering it to you. "Here, you must be tired," you thank him and hitch Powder up with you as you sit up a bit.

"You guys, I really am okay."

Powder just tightened her grip around you. All she could hear was the sounds of that scene. You sprawled onto the floor, half-dressed, bare foot; a fully armoured enforcer above you with his legs swinging back as you yell at her to go.

"Don't leave," she whispers against your stomach and you brush your fingers through her bangs. "I won't, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where are you four going?" they stiffen up, twisting their heads to look at you as you leaned against the railing leading to Vander's office and bedroom. You were dressed in a large shirt that reached your knees, eyes still puffy from sleep as you held a mug of something warm. Mylo gawks, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to find the words; hands coming to scratch the back of his head. Claggor just stiffens up like a board and Powder hides slightly behind him.

Vi lowers her hood, looking a bit smug. "A morning walk," she says cooly. You arch a brow, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. Last night had been a busy night for the bar, a few scuffles ignited because some dumbass didn't know when to cut himself off when he needed to. So Vander was fully conked out and you wanted him to take as long as he needed to recuperate.

"Mhm," you glance at each of their faces for a moment then sigh and close your eyes. "What's the job?"

Vi's shoulders fall. Damn you and your perceptiveness. It was unnerving how good you were at reading people at times.

"Little Man gave a tip," that woke you up a bit more. "You sure you can pull it off?" Vi nods firmly, her shoulders squaring confidently.

"We're ready."

"Stay safe and stay out of sight," they grin up at you and rush out through the back. Powder gives you a wave that you return before silence washes over the empty bar. You crack your neck, grunting as the satisfying popping noises echo then make your way down the stairs.

You prepare to set-up for the noon crowd. Leisurely moving around as you swept and wiped down everything. When Vander does lumbers down, he gathers you in his arms by wrapping them around your waist. Those damned arms. You swear his bicep was as big as your damn head.

"Mornin'" you chuckle as he rubs his beard to your cheek. "You weren't b'sides me, not a very good start" you roll your eyes at him, patting his arm so he lets you go and you can turn around to look at him.

"Kids awake?"

"They left to get breakfast," you turn and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling as he groans into it. "I made you coffee, c'mon. Gotta start the day right." Vander groans again, firmly cupping your ass in his hand and lifting you onto a table. You laugh, glancing at the windows but he simply blocks your body from view.

"If we're talking about starting the day right..." "Vander!"

"You said the kids are out, right?" You squeal when he brings his face to your neck, moaning as he kisses over the previous hickeys he'd left. He brings your crotches together and you chew on your lips as you feel his morning wood against your clothed cunt.

"Fine, let's start the day right." You feel him grin against your neck.

“Atta’ boy.”

Huck is chipper today. Greeting you with that flush on his cheek that never fails to remind you of a blushing maiden. "Closing that deal, Huck baby?" you asked, smiling sweetly his way. He sputters but nods, asking for a pint to sweeten the deal.

"Coming right up" Vander presses a hand to your waist as he walks behind you, asking if you could wipe down a table and you nod. Sevika bumps her knee to yours as you clean the table next to hers.

"Is he a damn vacuum?" she says as she eyes the hickeys on you. "You jealous, Sev?" her nose crinkles at your teasing but she doesn't deny it. She just laughs at it, turning her attention back to her cards. You lean down, making a grimace as your stare at her deck that makes the others start double guessing.

Who were they to believe? Sevika's calm expression or your grimace?

She huffs through her nose, watching your profile from the corner of her eyes. Though that's cut short by the tense scene in Huck's corner. You straighten up, brows furrowing as you watch it unfold.

Though everything goes smoothly once Vander sends them a simple message, something about that interaction makes your stomach twist. The news about an explosion happening Topside didn't help ease this pit of snakes and they only knot themselves into worse shape when the kids walk in.

Vander and you share a look as he walks to their room, you can't leave the bar unattended so you trusted him to ask. But this feeling just wouldn't leave you. When Vander pops back put with a sack over his shoulder and Claggor following behind, you slip out the bar to stop in front of your boy.

“Who did this?” Claggor shifts under your gaze, trying to cover his bruise with his hand. Pretending to scratch at his cheek. “One of us,” Vander answers for him. That brings up more questions than it does answers. So Claggor just shrugs.

“It was some blonde kid and his goons. Said something about us crossing his turf.”

You frown but let them pass after ruffling Claggor’s hair. Turning your attention back to the bar. The rest of the night goes by smoothly enough, a few verbal scuffs but nothing you couldn’t handle. When Vander returns, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’d Benzo say?” he tightened his grip then sighed. It was a heavy one and you make a questioning noise.

“What? What happened?”

Vander poured both of you a shot and silently handed you the glass. You take it but the frown does not disappear. He clinks your glasses then throws his head back, you copy his motion. Not grimacing as it burns down your throat, simply staring Vander down as that feeling in your gut worsens.

“They need their slab of meat for the explosion today.”

Deckard bumps into you as he gets escorted out by Lock. Who does not waste anytime in flirting with you: “Hey, hot stuff,” Lock calls out and you scoff. “Keep on dreaming, bud.”

“Every night, baby!” his reply makes you smile, shaking your head as you open the door to the lab. The squealing pink vines on the floor never failing to make you shudder as you avoid stepping on them. You know they’re not technically alive but you swear, every creak and whine this rundown factory makes is just these things making their way out.

“Ah, (Y/N),” your smile tightens. “Hey, Doc.” he shares a glance between Silco and you then walks to his station. In his own way telling you to just ignore his presence. Silco continues to stare at the rat cage, entranced at the squealing and yowling. The splatter of blood against the glass makes you flinch but you stand next to Silco and pale.

“What the hell is that?”

“An upper hand,” Silco traces the planes of your face with his eyes. The micro expressions you display — twitches, spasms, tugs. Even when contorted in disgust, you were a marvel. Especially when backdropped by the creatures of the depths. The speckles of light piercing through the water just add to your allure. He knows you’re not fond of his affections, not without feeling guilt, but he reaches for your hand and presses your knuckles to his lips.

You steel your emotions, expressions turning neutral. As if you could hide the way your lips quiver to hide that grin.

“Silco. Did you ask Deckard to jump my kids?” The softness of the moment is broken by the accusation. He lets go of your hand and glances at the savage rat tearing into the corpse of the cat.

“I told the boy to simply observe. I gain nothing from hurting them.”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms as you walk away from the gruesome view. You glance at the table, picking up the gun-shaped needle device, testing its weight in your hands.

“You doubt me?” You frown at the tone he takes. “No, I don’t.”

Because no matter how you spin it, Silco was right. There was no scenario where Deckard trying to beat the shit out of your kids gave him an upper hand in the grand scheme of things.

Silco watches your fingers tinker with his device. Lost deep in thought while you flip it over and trace your touch down every scratch or bump it had. It's on the tip of your tongue, he sees the way your jaw is clenched. How your shoulders are tensed up despite wearing that thick jacket, hood drawn up to hide your face.

A bitterness ebbs its way to Silco's rationale. That look in your eyes, that contemplativeness. It was doubt.

"I won't be able to give you an answer if you don't ask," he turns around to the underwater scene instead. The sight of you weakens him too much. Silco can't allow you to be a distraction, no when the pieces are falling just where they need to.

"There's nothing to ask." You place the device down and slip your eyes closed. No matter what he says, how he tries to reassure you; it wouldn't change what was already set in motion.

"You said the kids would stay out of it, right?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't look at you as he says it. His figure casting a long shadow on the scuffed floors of the lab and the hairs on the back of your neck pricks. The Doctor calls out your name and you reluctantly tear your eyes away from Silco to tilt your head questioningly at him.

"It's getting late. Best to get back before suspicions raise." The unrest was worsening. The Undercity folk have been walking on a tight rope made off steel for years now. The rope digging viciously into your feet, slicking up the material while you held your hands out to your side. This so called 'peace' that the Topsiders called it was laughable.

With how hard the enforcers were hitting now, that tightrope walker's knees were beginning to buckle as their blood gushes beneath them.

You openly glare at their masked heads, nails digging into the wooden crate of goods. Waiting for them to pass you before you stepped out from the tight alleyway. You worry for a moment about your kids. They were in a more secluded part of town, in their little hideout and you hope they're keeping their heads down like Vander had told them too.

A pair of boots appear in your vision, that obnoxious mechanical breathing lifting the edge of your hood. You scowl, lifting your head to glare into those bug-like lenses.

He says your name, you can tell his face is scrunched up as if even muttering it annoys him. You curl your nose, standing your ground. "What the hell do you want?" Troy scoffs, his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists.

"Just being thorough in my search, we're looking for four sump rats."

You glance over his shoulder, noticing a few other enforcers asking others who do little to hide their anger. Topside really doesn't know how much restraint it takes to continue this 'peace' and they still insist on poking the bear.

"A councilor's kid almost got hurt."

"So they need four kids to get their lick back?"

One kid almost got hurt and Topside is asking for justice. Yet they turn a blind eye to the kids who were breathing in toxins and starve day after day. Because it's never been about unity, it's about subservience.

Troy glances at your crate and you scoff. "Piss of, Piltie," you shoulder through him and Troy lets you. His fathers arm would never bend right anymore so he knew better than to put his hands on you again. But he still glared at the back of your head, burning holes into you. You turn, walking backwards and lifting one hand to flip him off before you make your way back home.

Sevika's voice is the first thing you hear when you walk in. You place the crate down, slipping your hood down and glancing at the small crowd of people. Vander regards you with a nod and you stand besides him.

"We should hit them back. We got the numbers to beat them." Sevika's words makes a few head nod, soft cheers of agreement echoing through the room.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." Another voice says, you cross your arms, leaning your hip against the bar. Sevika is looking right at you, tilting her head at the apprehension on your face.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, we all know how that ended." Vander is trying to reason with an angry crowd. An exhausted one. You do nothing to hide your frown at his words. He pretends not to see it.

"You're just protecting your kids," she retorts. A vein jumps in Vander's neck, his jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

His sentiments were noble. But the tightrope was beginning to tremble and the walker on top of it was now desperately crouched to grip at it with their hands instead.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight."

Vander stands and you feel a smidge of fear in your heart. He was pulled taut, all of this stress showing through the tightness in his posture. He towered over Sevika, a rumbling growl building in his throat.

"Do I look afraid?"

Sevika doesn't falter. She scoffs, meeting his challenging gaze with no issue.

"No. You look weak."

Marcus walks in with a purpose. His men following behind him making sure to puff their chests with each stride in. The Last Drop patrons find their fingers twitching, readying itself to grab at the blade near their hips. You level your gaze with Troy, he meets it head on and in a blink-and-you'll-miss motion he glances at the stairs leading down.

You straighten up, heart jumping to your throat.

Marcus' arrogance is like rubbing salt into an already festering wound. He doesn't need to say but he does it anyways and your little tightrope walker is now gone. Just two poles standing in the darkness, with no evidence of the rope or the walker ever existing.

You rush down the stairs, the door flying open and calling out for your kids. You instantly gather Powder and Ekko into your arms, checking over Claggor and Mylo while Vi talks to Vander.

"We need to fight back!" her fist slams into the wall and you meet Vander's eyes from over her shoulder.

Still.

Still, he remains stubborn. He tells Vi he has to show her something and you feel that same disappointment build in you. That day you saw him pleading for help from Sheriff Grayson after she had asked if the kids were truly getting their facts right.

Vander was too soft to protect anyone. Your heart squeezes at the revelation, but you numb yourself out to it. Even when Piltover was calling for the blood of your kids, he still deludes himself into this fantasy of peace.

He was weak.

You bring your lips to Powder's forehead, keeping Ekko close to you while Mylo and Claggor shift uneasily as Vi follows Vander out.

"Come on, help me close up early." Mylo and Claggor uncross their arms, nodding. You pull away from the embrace and cup Powder and Ekko's faces in each hand.

"Ekko, you should get back to Benzo's, it's getting late." He pauses but nods, so you stroke over the back of his head and press a kiss to his temple. "Enforcers are gonna be crawling all over, want me to drop you off?"

"No, I can be sneaky!" Ekko beams up at you and you return his grin, standing to send him off. Powder stands next to you, watching as Ekko disappears into the alleyways with an agility of a street cat.

"Why won't Vander fight?" she looks up at you, brows furrowed. "They're ruining everything. The enforcers. They threw a guy through a window, they're -"

"Monsters." You finish for her. She sees the scar running down your brow and inches close, so you wrap an arm around her. Man, she's grown like a sprout, limbs all lanky and awkward.

She couldn't grow up in a world like this.

"All of them are monsters," she whispers under her breath and your silence just cements this further into her brain.

"All of them," you continue.

When Vander returns with your eldest, he knows he's pissed you off. You won't meet his eyes, nursing a drink in your hand while you stare at a card in between your hands. He stands next to you and plucks your old business card from your fingers. It was wrinkled, yellowing with age and some words already fading. But your writing on the back remains.

'Come see again soon'

"Revisiting memories?" that was the theme tonight it seems. You'd slipped that into his jacket after he pulled off a drunkard away from you. Vander still remembers the seat you were sat in, what you were wearing, and that gleam in your eyes when you catch him staring at you for a bit too long.

He sits next to you and glances at the cast iron gloves. Those memories do little to make him happy. You take a swing of your drink, slamming the cup down and moving to stand. Vander calls out your name, grabbing at your arm to tug you in. You grunt when you land against his chest.

"You're pissed at me."

You roll your eyes at him, using your hands to push away but he does not relent.

"You honestly think we should go to war with Topside?" there's a bite to his tone. His patience with Vi had been in abundance, she was young and hurt. But out of everyone else, he thought you should understand him better.

"You want her to live like this her entire life? Keeping her head down and taking every beat down for a noble purpose?" You slur out, ripping yourself from his arms to grab at your coat.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive" his voice raised the tiniest bit but he restrains himself and it pisses you off more. You put on your jacket and he sighs. "Where the hell are you going?"

You smack his hand away, stumbling a bit as you turned to face him.

He wants to hear it. A scathing 'fuck you' or 'leave me alone, asshole'. But you just narrow your eyes at him, lips trembling as its set in that frown, then just shake your head and turn away to walk out.

You don't know where you planned on going. You let your legs carry you around, aimlessly wondering through the alleyways until you find yourself at a familiar backdoor. You push the heavy door open. The busy wallpaper and creaky floorboards give you more comfort than you expected.

"(Y/N)?" Doe blinks at the sight of you. She takes off her mask and you stare at her concerned face. "Are you okay?" you shake your head and lean in. Her eyes widen when your lips meet hers, she places firm hands on your chest and push you back.

"You're drunk."

You shake your head, cupping her face again and kissing her. She groans, murmuring your name before she bites down. You hiss, back hitting the wall as she shoves you. "You're with Vander." The reminder makes you laugh. You slide down the wall, putting your head between your knees as your tears well up.

Sevika thanks Doe for telling her where you were, crouching to grab a fistful of your hair to raise your head. Your empty gaze makes her sigh. You don't even fight when she slings your arm over her shoulder and lifts you onto your feet.

"The hell are you two taking me?"

"Silco's." Doe answers flatly.

Sevika feels you stiffen up. "I knew you hated them, but never figured you'd been working with him the whole time," she gruffs out. "Wish you would've told me about it sooner."

"Sorry, I'll be sure to invite you into my super secret group club the next time, okay?"

You're sober enough to be sarcastic without slurring words together. She just adjusts her grip on you and makes her way to the factory by the docks.

The Doctor greets you as Sevika drops you onto a chair. A dark shadow moves idly by the windows and you clutch at your neck as you crack it again. "Why am I here?" you mumble, pinching your brows. "To keep you safe."

You look at him through squinted eyes. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

You had no idea what had happened. Not Benzo's murder and not Vander's kidnapping. Call it luck or a happy accident, Silco doesn't care. He's glad you're not looking at him with an ounce of hatred, just simple confusion.

"Stumbling around drunk," he begins "late at night." He was worried you'd run away. Ran and Lock had looked for you at the bar, even asked around for you. Thankfully, Sevika had found you.

"I'm a big boy" you reply, leaning back in the chair only to smack your hand onto the edge of a table when you realise it was a stool.

"Sober him up," he tells the Doctor who reaches for a small jar on the shelves. "This won't make you sober," he tells you as he unplugs the cork from the top, you grimace and bring your face close. "But it'll wake you up."

The sharp sting that wafts up your nose makes you groan, backing away from his outstretched hand. Doe keeps you from falling backwards, steadying you while you making hacking noises.

Silco and Doe nod at each other. She's got you, he can trust her with this. He turns and Sevika follows in step. They step out, the door thudding close.

It was better to keep you away from this. You cared too much about Vander, he can't let you get distracted from the freedom that's right there. Shimmering like a desert oasis in front of him. Hate him if you must, but Vander had done himself in the second he decided to put on those handcuffs.

The hound of the underground was nothing but a lapdog now. He can't keep his people in check anymore, it's why they've turned to him instead. They need this. Zaun needs this. Vander will be known as a coward who ran away with his kids. Leaving the undercity to save his own skin, so his hands remained clean from anymore blood. Like the true coward he was.

You'll forgive him for this. You'll have to.

You're standing now, peering into the rat cage while Doe stared at the test tubes full of creatures on the shelves. Every time you even glance at the direction of the exit, Doe steps subtly in your way. He wanted to keep you in here? Seriously? You weren't that damned drunk.

You hear muffled voices from outside and as Doe picks up a test tube, you take your chances wrestling with her. She blinks in alarm, nearly dropping the tube as you suddenly dash towards the door. The Doctor stands as the the glass breaks and splatters green glowing liquid onto the floor. She calls out your name and you twist the handle open, slamming it closed in her face. She pounds on the door, cussing you out for being a bitch and you would've replied with your own string of colourful words but a body crashes next to you.

It's Lock. He groans, jaw loose and mouth bloody as he his head limply falls backwards. You notice the shadows from the bridge and look up.

"Vi!" she feels ice in her veins. She chances a glance down and yells out your name in confusion. Silco tightens his grip on the railing so Sevika whistles sharply. You yell as a few of her men try to grab you.

"(Y/N)?' Mylo repeats, his hands trembling even more. Vander's heart drops to his stomach but he snaps Mylo back into focus.

Why was she wearing those gloves? No, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?

"Silco!" you avoid a pair of burly arms, ducking away and bumping into the crates filled with Shimmer. "What are you doing!? You promised!"

He motions for more of his men to rush the bridge. Vi doesn't have enough time to process your words fully. She shakes her arms, cracking her neck as she prepares to fight. She must've misheard. She must have.

"SILCO!"

Your yells are making Vander's heart race. He can't see you. Only hear you. If Silco was ready to get rid of his kids just to ensure his control over the undercity, he doesn't dare to imagine what he'd do to you. Vi is determined, she cannot let her fathers die here. Not when she was the one who'd put them in this situation in the first place. These series of events, this domino effect all began from that damn explosion.

She can't let herself be orphaned again. She can't let Powder be orphaned again.

You continue to evade them, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over a few heads to put enough distance. When you reach the stairs, you yell out for Vi again. Silco doesn't dare look your way as you rush towards the bridge. He cannot get distracted. He can't.

Sevika grabs at you, her arm wound around your waist and you snarl. You aim your elbow at her head, making her flinch enough to loosen her grip. It still isn't enough though. Even then, she squeezes you like a damn snake.

"Let him go!" Vi growls out, adrenaline pumping through her veins. You dig your nails into Sevika, slamming your fist onto her arms while you struggle. Deckard watches this half-dazed, purple liquid oozing out from the corners of his eyes as he's bent over the railings.

"Ready to rise to the surface?" Silco holds the glass vial of Shimmer to his face. Deckard's breathing quickens and he downs it.

It happens quick. One second Deckard is just another boy and the next he's a monstrous figure rushing towards Vi. You yell, finally managing to elbow Sevika right in her face. She drops you and the second your feet are on the ground you sprint towards Vi.

You gather her in your arms and damn near skid to a stop once you past the threshold of safety. "The door! The door!" Vi yells, grabbing the handle and you help her. It slams close just in the nick of time, Deckard squealing from the other side as he pounds his fists so hard, it makes you and Vi bounce away from the door. You dig your heels in and grip onto the handle, sweat beading down your nose as you try to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! You alright?" you cuss under your breath but let out a breathless laugh.

"Never better."

Vander sighs, looking to Vi next. He feels the rush of cool air as Claggor finally makes a hole big enough for them to escape from.

"You did good, Vi."

She feels hope stir within her.

You don't remember what happens next. It's a fiery blur, only flashes of images bursting through every time you open your eyes to blink. The smoke was so thick and the metal door ontop of you was so heavy. Vi is crying.

Vi is crying and Vi never cries.

She calls for your name, her body trembling underneath you. When you wheeze, she sobs. Whether out of pain or relief, you can't tell. Ahead of you, you see the most horrifying sight.

Claggor. Mylo.

Dead.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive."

You brace yourself onto your elbows, straining out a yell as you try to lift yourself up enough for Vi to shimmy out. It groans above you, scraping against the floor inch by painful inch as you feel your eyes water. Vi calls out your name again, finally looking her age as she tries to crawl out.

What have you done?

When a hulking figure comes close, you yell in an attempt to scare him off. But it wasn't Deckard, it was Vander. Your Vander, with his veins glowing purple and his body nearly double its size. There's heat coming off from him, his rapid growth most likely putting his body through torture. You swear you can hear his enlarged heart as it beats like a war drum.

What have you done?

Vi finally crawls out and she turns to hold the door up so you can too. You stumble and kneel right in front of Mylo's outstretched hand, grasping at it while your other hand tries to dig him out.

"C'mon, c'mon baby. You're okay, you're okay." You sob, lifting your eyes to look at Claggor next and begin shaking your head. It was just ash and debris, he wasn't that pale. He was strong, he was your strong boy. You wipe away some of the dust from his face and choke back a sob when all he does is loll his head to the side.

"No, no, no. Claggor, Mylo."

There's a loud explosion. The building rumbles, the roof creaking as it sinks down. Vi is clutching at your shoulder, crying as she stares at her brothers. Vander gathers you both in his arms and flies through the escape plan. You scream, feeling the heat lick at your back.

Vander takes the brute force of the fall. Cushioning you and Vi as his last act of love. You hear it, his heart as it slows. You shake your head, looking down at him, cupping his face as rain descends onto you.

"Vander," Vi whimpers out.

"No, baby, please. I'm sorry," you brush your thumb over his cheek, one hand remaining on his chest. The shimmer was wearing down, his pounding heart begins to get slower and slower.

"I'm so sorry, Vander."

He leans into your palm, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness that you two were still alive. He'd always joked about dying, how he wanted to have you over him like an angel. And you'd always laugh, telling him he was ridiculous.

"Take care of Powder."

Vi screams next to you. You hang your head, sobbing as you hold his face in your hands. You press your foreheads together, kissing him one last time before you pull away.

"Vi, it worked!"

Who was that?

"Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally worked!"

Vi gets up and you turn your head to follow her. The sight before you is strange. Vi and Powder were fighting, yelling at each other but you can barely hear it over the rain and crackling fire.

Vi hits Powder and you shakily bring yourself to your feet. As Powder begs for her sister to come back, you stumble towards her. She turns to you, crying nonsensically about how she just wanted to help and you nod, trying to form words but your tongue feels like lead.

Silco finds her desperately shaking your shoulders as you sprawl out onto the ground. He sees your chest going up and down so he concerns himself with the girl.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your sister?"

Then the strangest thing happens. She lunges at him, brings him to his ass, but hugs him so tightly he's confused at her intentions.

"She left us. She's not my sister anymore."

Silco brings a hand to the back of her head, understanding just to well about what she was feeling. He glanced at Vander's grotesque body then at yours.

"It's okay. We'll show them. We'll show them all."

What have you done?

He knows you're pissed at him. Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. But Silco remains cool in your presence, standing in Vander's office, looking at the stack of papers. Stock intakes, accounting bullshit, Powder's doodles. You're sat on the couch, staring at your lap with a blanket over your shoulders. Powder's head in your lap as she twitches and sniffles in her sleep.

"You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I didn't."

You bring your hand over Powder's ears, glaring at him. Your face angled down, eyebrows so tightly knit he swears he sees a vein pop out on your forehead.

"You killed my sons."

"She did."

Your expression hardens. Powder shifts for a second and instantly your anger fades, you smooth out her bangs from her head and pat her back rhythmically.

"We share the blame, (Y/N). I didn't do this alone."

He sits on Vander's chair, reaching for his cigar. Vander's body hadn't even gone cold yet and here Silco was, already intending on desecrating his grave by smoking his cigars, as if intently chasing away the scent of Vander's smoking pipes.

You carefully move Powder, shushing her as she stirs and draping your blanket over hers to keep her warm. Silco watches, lighter in hand, poised to burn. You spin the chair, Vander's chair, and kick his legs apart.

He should be more cautious. Foxes are known to get close to their prey, associated with daggers and tricksters because unlike a wolf they couldn't use brute strength to bring down their enemies. You could choke him out, try to pin him down and reach for a pencil to shove through his eye.

But he uncrosses his legs and you sit on his lap. You reach for the box of matches, and strike it. Silco watches you watching him; the orange glow of the cigar not quite piercing through the darkness in your eyes.

"When Powder drinks from the bar, she has her own cup and metal straw. She likes to make gadgets, she gets restless sometimes and snoop around. She's smart, so you'll have your hands full."

Silco arches a brow, inhaling and exhaling out the smoke. Your eyes flutter, burning a bit but you can't even muster a single tear.

"You're offering to babysit?"

"She's my daughter."

You wrap your arms around his neck, your smudged and soot-stained face tucking itself to his neck. You could rip his throat out right now. But where would that leave you and Powder. Running from his men, constantly looking over your shoulder. No. You made your bed. You lay in it.

You said you wanted a better future for your kids. How could you rip Powder away from the only shot she has at being safe?

"I'd do anything for her." You shift your position, bringing your lips to his ears.

"I'll even keep your bed warm. I know you like how I do you."

Silco isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous you are; he hired you to infiltrate and gather information and for years you did just that. Now Vander was dead. You were as wicked as he was.

And now, you had every right to kill him next. So sleeping with you? Sharing a bed, and keeping you close where you'd have access to his operations. You subtly thrusting Powder into the fray, telling him about her needs and how to take care of her. Saying you'd stay if her safety was guaranteed.

This was a bad idea.

But Silco is intrigued. He'd thought you'd be yelling at him. Screaming bloody murder, wrap your teeth around his neck and try to tear it off.

Cunning little fox. You're planning something. Painful and meticulous. You'd make your revenge something people would whisper about as a warning.

He wants to see how far you're willing to go. He's glad that you share the same obsession with him as he does with you now.

Fine.

If the both of you were going to destroy each other, let it be known that Silco allowed it to happen in the first place; if you need to be broken down to be his, then he'll gladly place his chess pieces on the board with you.

Vander and Benzo's death shocks the undercity. You imagine people glancing at each other, confusion and lost written across their faces. Their protector was gone and in his place was the disgraced Silco.

But what truly sends people reeling is you standing besides him. You, Vander's boyfriend, the one his kids called dad among others. The slut that Vander had given a home too. Had given a job to and loved.

No, adored. He adored you, did you forget that?

He looked at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky.

How could you?

You fucking traitorous whore.

You had prepared for this. Steeled your emotions and walked among Silco's entourage with your head held high. Let them hate you, you know you deserve it. You expect the spit thrown your way, wiping it away with no emotion. You expect the harsh words, the cusses and threats.

But you're frozen in place when a man comes running at you, a knife held in his hand. You recognize him; a stall owner who Vander liked to do business with. Often trading fruit peels for this or that. He used them to do an array of things, though Vander recounts that he often used it as a way to smell fresh.

You smell it. That citrusy scent as he rears his hand back. "You whore!" he yells out.

Sevika kicks him square in the chest and as she leans too far back from the lack of balance (you think the loss of her arm was well-deserved) you keep her steady.

But it invigorates the crowd of grieving people. They throw things at you, trash and dirt at first. But then someone flings a brick and you barely dodge it in time before it smashed against your head.

Silco couldn't have people thinking that his entourage was weak.

So he brings you back to that walkway, the stalls now ransacked and the owners all kneeled before you. Hushed whispers come from the windows above you, children peeking curiously and mothers rushing them away.

These people were all Vander's friends. They did business with him, ate with him. You'd been there, eating with them. You glance away, sighing out a shuddering breath.

"Getting queasy?" Silco muses out.

"I've never been fond of butchers."

"Someone has to get their hands dirty. We can't all be expensive whores." You glare at him reproachfully.

"I want to leave."

"No."

Silco motions for Sevika and you scoff; "Look at you. Asking for another person to suck a John's cock for you. Expensive whore, is that what you called me?"

Silco gives you a tepid look, but then pulls out a dagger. He stares down at Vander's friends. Silco then stands behind them, bringing the blade to their throats. They look at you, nothing but pure hate in their eyes.

"You fucking traitor."

[mintmatcha]

"You guys are so lucky."

Ochako takes Izuku by the hand, that sweet, rosy smile filling her cheeks. The whole table whoops and hollers as Izuku brings her hand to his mouth and places a kiss directly on the engagement ring.

"I think we're pretty lucky too," Izuku whispers. Sero gags, finger in his throat, and Denki collapses into giggles. From across the table, Iida joins in, covering his smile with the back of his hand.

Tomorrow night, they'll be married. The ceremony is small, just a handful of friends and family, so most of you here won't be attending. You're fine with that- a couple of fancy cocktails is enough celebration for you.

"High school sweethearts," you sigh, "How romantic. I wish someone liked me in high school."

Sero snorts and Ochako sighs; you immediately know something is up. When you glance around the table, everyone is either avoiding your gaze or sniggering, partaking in some sort of shared secret. Turning to Iida for information, you find that he's the worst of them all, adjusting his glasses over and over again.

"You mean someone else," Denki says after a while.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Denki jerks his head to the side with a conspiratorial grin, "Iida was rock hard for you all through high school."

The man in question sputters-- hard. Iida chokes on his beer and dissolves into a round of coughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he tries to gather himself again. The rest of the table is a cacophony of sound: Izuku thumping the poor man's back, Sero and Denki are howling with laughter, Ochako scolding the gang. You want to laugh too because the idea feels impossible -Iida, the collected, calm, polite one of the group, certainly couldn't have been 'hard' for you-- but then you see his face.

"I-" Iida's glasses are halfway down is his nose, "That is not--"

"Oh my god, dude-- you're bright red!"

Iida really is scarlet. It runs down to his chest, shirt unbuttoned just enough that you can get a peek. He can't meet your eye, looking up and down aimlessly. You've never seen him like this before-- not with his exes, not with crushes; that makes something inside you flutter.

"Are you guys just teasing me?" You manage to laugh.

"You didn't know?" Izuku asks.

"No!"

"Are you kidding? Everyone else knew. This guy-" Sero pats Iida's broad chest, overly familiar - "Would lament about you all the time. About how you walked, how you dressed-"

"Sero Hanta-" Iida chides.

"-how you rolled your skirt after training," Denki finishes.

"I did not!" Iida quickly defends himself. His hands are wringing around his beer, tracing the same pattern over and over again as he glances around the group. His eyes never make it your way.

"Oh, you kinda did," Ochako cuts in with a giggle.

"Sorry, Iida. You did," Izuku agrees.

"Well, it wasn't- It's not because I thought you were--" he huffs, "The school dress code said skirts had to be past fingertip length, and yours were- You rolled the hem and--"

Iida swallows hard and finally meets your eye. He looks miserable, lips drawn into a straight line.

"Well, I wish you would have told me you liked me-"

"I did not like you."

"I would have rolled my skirts shorter."

The table breaks into laughter again, but Iida just grows pinker.

[senmiyaazx]

SPOILERS FOR TKATB UPDATE (day one)

it's only been day one and yet SO MANY CROWE SCENES?????? gosh I'm foamig at the mouth I didn't know fantasia was cooking THIS hard behind the scenes

only got to day one for now cuz I'm pretty dizzy n there's things to do but gosh there's so many new content added. old day one was good but now it's even BETTER (no wonder it took so long tbh it was worth the wait)

everyone's been given so much personality omg. fantasia probably initially didn't expect the game to be so popular so the old version felt a bit monotonous imo but it was still really good and lots of lore hidden in just one day!

back to Crowe... Crowe... crowe...crwocrowwcoroccrowcrorohehehejejejej.e,....,..

FLIRTY/TEASING CROWE IS REAL MY FICS ARE ACCURATE I'M SO JUMPING AROUND THE WALLS

gah this new Crowe is so.. cute?! back then it felt like he was kind of distant in a way? like there's some sort of longing from mc while Crowe is just kind of oblivious to it. or maybe that's how I've always seen their relationship. but now, so many things have changed and i loveit so much omgomgomg

this new change emphasized their relationship further and portrayed how close they really were being the MC's only close friend in the entire college. he's the only one noticed the mc and actually tried to get to know them. he's the one who saw the color in mc when they thought they blended into the colorless crowd okay fine I'll write a fic soon

he's so endearing and only shit did i mention the stargazing scene

(sorry if it looks weird i play tkatb on an emulator)

HE'S SO PRETTY WHAT???

fantasia. how could you make us hover on top of him. no one's getting ME off of Crowe now. you'd have to tie me to a truck and drag me at full speed.

and finally, the kiss. myfuckinggod the kiss (although this will probably cost me huge consequences later)

no words

THE FUCKING HEART EYES??? careful Crowe you're gonna give someone heart diseases one day (aka me and crowe fans)

okay that's it

extra notes cause i cant stop yapping about how much i loved this

the reveal about crowe being a puppy following mc around even if mc ignored him was so cute lmao him defending mc was so heartwarming too I couldn't stop giggling (also shorter haired Crowe?? wowow)

as for mc, i really liked the slight changes to their personality. it added more depth and made them feel so much more relatable. i won't be going deep into myself but them being a 'side character' or an outcast was just so relatable.

as for sol, i haven't seen much yet:( but the scene in the clinic had some changes and sol made much more impact than he did originally. when he looked back at mc before he left i actually felt a little nervous lol.

even in the classroom meeting he mumbled "It's you...." which was super cute tbh why is everyone so cute? the drawing scene didn't change much but it was after it that was my favorite. when mc asked him to be their friend it was such a cute interaction, and later when the game showed Sol's reaction blushing. he's so cute<3

for the other characters I don't have much to say. Brittney is still hot as fuck, Jess is cute, Geo is scary, and Darryl is more endearing than before. Hyugo I haven't met yet:(

edit:

so um. finished part 2

hehehe. what is this. hehehehe. are you trying to kill me. hehehehe

[caraetdeul]

Right Beside You

Choi Seungcheol x gn!reader

Distance is nothing when you've got a love like this.

TW: None. Fluff, Long distance relationship, use of nicknames, some light cursing, slight mention of sex but nothing exclusive

A/n: this was shorter than the usual ones I write but nonetheless, it was still fun to do. Here's a fluff fic for Coups as a remedy for the angsty ones. Enjoy reading caratdeuls!

~Main Masterlist~

You’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately. If you haven’t felt the exhaustion in your body already, then the prominent bags under your eyes will definitely tell you that you are. But it’s not much of a surprise for you at this point because you know that the reason behind this isn’t something that should be astronomically studied. Instead, it all stems from the fact that you can’t sleep alone ever since your relationship with Seungcheol started.

Maybe there’s some sort of scientific reason as to why your boyfriend’s weight on your body as you cuddle up with each other is the only thing that can calm you enough to fall asleep. But maybe it can all just be a coincidence and you’re just having a mental breakdown at the thought of sleeping by yourself. Either way, nothing helps. And just like every night since Seungcheol left for his world tour, you’re left on your shared bed by yourself, staring at the ceiling while contemplating if the time difference between you won’t be much of a bother for him.

You know how tiring his work as an idol can be. Even when you’re far from him, there’s no doubt how much his job takes a toll on him just based on the updates you get from his messages and his group’s social media accounts. But even then, you still witness how hard he worked for each project they had. The passion and love that they give, not just for their work but also for their fans, are unmatched. As for you, you’ve never been so proud of someone until Seungcheol walked into your life and you always make sure he knows it. But he’ll be damned if he didn’t share the sentiment with you every time. So whenever you both come home from working all day, all your energy may be drained with the day’s demands but it will never hinder you from spending quality time within the comfort of each other’s arms. Safe to say, that was how your days always end.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol’s not faring any better than you. Jet lag may be a bigger factor in his exhaustion but he couldn’t deny that being without you by his side is also affecting him. Now that he thinks about it, that’s probably why the other members have been very mindful of everything that they do around him ever since they left the country. So when your phone rang just as you were about to Facetime him yourself, you knew right then and there that you weren’t alone in your misery. The relief of finally seeing your face once again washed over him the moment that you answered, the tension leaving his body in the meantime.

“Hi honey,” Seungcheol smiled sheepishly, his eyes crinkling with poorly hidden mirth, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

You hummed, “No, I was already awake. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just missing you.”

Your heart melted at his innocent confession. You can feel your cheeks warm up as you reply bashfully, “I miss you too.”

Seungcheol’s smile widened but immediately turned upside down once he got a good look at you. Concern was written all over his face as he looked at you through the screen.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Yes.”

Seungcheol sighed and you knew he caught your lie.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

You inhaled deeply, “Well, it’s not much of a why but more of a how…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how I’ve been sleeping with you ever since we got together?”

Seungcheol snorted, his cheeks turning pink, “Oh, honey.”

 Your eyes widened once you realized the double meaning behind what you just said. The screen shook as you immediately sat up, your hands waving around as you tried to explain yourself, “That’s not what I meant! I promise! I was talking about how we’re sleeping together— beside each other! Beside. Each. Other. On the bed. Innocently. Not sex. Definitely not sex. But not like I’m saying that I don’t want to do that either ‘cause I do but that’s not what I meant. I just—”

Seungcheol’s laughter finally registered in your mind, effectively stopping you from digging yourself into a deeper hole. You pouted annoyed, “I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.” Seungcheol cooed, still laughing in between words, “I couldn’t help it. You were just being all cute and shit as you tried to defend yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip as a smile fought its way onto your face. You then giggled when Seungcheol hadn’t stopped laughing, his joy outright contagious. As his laughter died down, so does yours. The air in your room was lighter than before and you only have your boyfriend to thank for.

“Now be honest, what’s the real reason why you’re not sleeping?”

You sighed, your voice softer with slight embarrassment, “I couldn’t sleep without your big arm around me and your body snuggled onto my side.”

His eyes softened, smiling remorsefully at the thought, “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I was there to be with you.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to apologize. I know your work is very important and I know how much you enjoy it. I don’t want to be in between you and your work. I can deal with this in the meantime. This will pass, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

The side of his lips twitched in thought, still unbothered by your situation despite your reassurances. His mouth opened, about to say something more but he was cut off by someone in the background shouting his name. You watched him from the other side of the screen as he talked to the person just out of the camera’s view.

Seungcheol turned back to you with a grimace, “Honey, I’m sorry but I got to go. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Please, try and get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You sent a flying kiss and laughed when Seungcheol caught it in the most dramatic way possible before ending the call. It wasn’t even a minute later when the silence of the bedroom dampened your mood. You sighed, lying down on your bed once again. You check the time on the bedside table, realizing that you only have 4 hours before you need to get up and go to work. Shuffling under the covers in an attempt to get comfortable as much as you can, you closed your eyes dreading another sleepless night.

~~~~~

It’s been a week since you had that call and since then, your sleep wasn’t getting any better.

You trudged your way into your apartment, exhausted from a stressful day at work. You probably had 3 cups of coffee already by lunchtime and an energy drink that was given to you by your coworker who had already witnessed you nodding off multiple times on your desk. Despite all of it, your sleepless nights were definitely catching up to you.

You made your way to your couch, leaving your shoes messily by the door. It’ll just be future me problem, you thought as you stumble through your living room. Plopping down on your couch, you were met by a big rectangular box on your coffee table with a note on top. Your senses immediately woke up, slowly panicking at the thought that someone was inside your apartment without you knowing. You cautiously took the note, eyeing the exterior of the box as if it were some kind of bomb waiting to explode on you. But once you opened the note, your heart slowly went back to its normal pace as you read through the letter.

To my loving and gorgeous partner in crime and in life,

I know you’ve been having a hard time sleeping ever since I left and I know it’s because I’m not there with you to hold you while you sleep. So to make up for my absence, I bought this for you. Hopefully, it can suffice for the time being. I even sprayed it with my perfume so it would feel closer to the real deal. Stay safe, I love you and I’ll see you soon.

Lots of love,

Seungcheol

P.S. Joshua got bored in the hotel so he begged me to embroider a small part of it. Couldn’t really deny his request when he told me his idea.

P.P.S. Please, don’t panic once you see the package in your apartment. I asked your mom to bring it to you and I told her where the spare key is.

You immediately opened the package and almost sobbed once you saw what was inside. You slowly pulled out the folded weighted blanket from the box which was also in your favorite color. Even from a distance, you could already smell Seungcheol’s perfume all over it which only made you want to cry more. As you unfolded the blanket on your lap, you finally found the embroidered part of the blanket which was on the top left corner. You laughed under your breath in amusement and awe once you realized that Joshua embroidered a chibi version of your favorite animal holding a big cherry and underneath it were both of your initials in red thread.

It was perfect.

That night, Seungcheol received a selfie of you snuggled up under the blanket with the embroidered part, which he was guessing was right over your heart. You then received a selfie of his own, which shows his dimpled smile with a half-heart sign on his cheek. Needless to say, you finally got a good night’s sleep.

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @clownprincehoeshi @yoonzzziino @gyuguys

[cxrsed-angel]

Cheer Skirt Misap: Hazel Callahan x Reader Smut

word count: 1k

summary: Hazel finds your new cheer uniform attractive. Particularly the skirt and how short it is.

Warnings: Oral (r receiving), Hazel is an ass girl, slight spanking, hazel doing sexual activities when’s she probably shouldn’t be. After that fight. Reader is more feminine. 18+ MDNI

A/N: I watch bottoms 2 months ago and i haven’t stopped thinking about her and ruby cruz since, so here’s this. Also reader is a cheerleader. I wish I could come up with a clever title. Also Hazel gives me service top vibes.

Hazel is sitting on your bed. She’s trying to listen to whatever you are talking about, but she can’t focus on anything besides how hot you look in your new cheer skirt. The skirt is white with blue and red on the bottom, falling just above your thigh. You had gotten the new uniforms for the big game against Huntington. She watches you move around your room, getting ready for the game, her eyes lingering on your legs and how short the new cheer skirt seemed compared to the old ones. 

“Pj was such a dick the other day. I mean, saying that about your mom was so out of line, babe, and I mean, you didn’t make a fake fight club to have sex with cheerleaders. You actually cared about female solidarity and everything. And you’re literally dating a cheerleader on your own accord without lying-“

You pause your rant about PJ, turn around, and see Hazel sitting in your bed, staring at the lower half of your body. It’s clear she isn’t paying attention. You walk closer to your bed and see her bruised face from the fight at the pep rally. You frown, knowing she probably had some sort of concussion that was making it hard to focus.

“Hazel? Hazel, are you okay…do you need to lie down? Am I talking too fast?”

Hazel looks up at you with her blue eyes bruised black and purple, but they’re still big and bright as she looks at you. 

“I-um, no, I was just thinking about something else.” 

You sit beside her on your bed, your thighs touching hers in her black jeans. Hazel's eyes linger on your upper thighs again before tearing her eyes away. She feels her heart beating faster in her chest, trying not to stare at your legs, trying to ignore the ache in between her thighs. She feels a bit guilty being so turned on as you look at her, so worried and concerned. 

“Oh? Thinking about what?” You see Hazel look a bit flustered at your question, and you relax a bit. You could tell it wasn't something bad, but you were still intrigued about what was on her mind. 

“Um. I was just thinking about you and how you look cute in your cheer skirt,” she tells you the truth partially, slightly nervous and embarrassed to admit that your skirt had turned her on so much. 

You smile at the compliment. “Oh, thanks, babe! We got new cheer uniforms since it's like the biggest game ever, but they are a bit shorter.” You get off your bed and look at the skirt through your mirror. It’s a few inches shorter than your usual cheer skirt. You thought you got the wrong size at first, but they just ended up being that short. “I'm glad we were shorts underneath, or I would literally flash the crowd.” 

Hazel smiles, laughing a bit at your comment, eyes still gazing at your lower half. “Well, it looks really good on you. Maybe shorter skirts make you more aerodynamic, help you fly up higher or something.” 

 Hazel suggests innocently when she knows thats probably not the reason your skirt is so short it's almost showing your ass considering your team’s pep rally performance.  You laugh a bit, smiling at her reasoning. 

“I really don't think that’s the reason, baby.” 

She toys with the bottom of your skirt lightly as she continues. “No, I think it is! Maybe it could help with the-the air and going up and-and flips and stuff because there less..fabric?” 

Hazle tries to justify but fails, making you laugh more. You find her attempt cute, though. Her blue eyes linger on your thighs again, gazing at them before she pulls you onto her lap by your hips, quickly kissing your lip-glossed lips suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath at the unexpected kiss, closing your eyes and melting against her the familiar feeling of her lips. You feel Hazel’s hands grasp your hips tighter as she kisses your lips, pressing against each other. Your arms go around her neck.

You break apart from the kiss slightly, looking at the playful smile on her lips and her face flushed and red, her eyes wide as she looks back. You can tell she’s turned on, and if her gaze didn’t give it away, her hands creeping up under the skirt did. 

“You’re really happy over these aerodynamic skirts, huh?” you smile at her, knowing that was not the reason she couldn’t keep her hands off you. You could tell it was because of how the shorts showed off your legs and a bit of your ass. 

Hazel pulls you against her passionately. Your lips crash together, kissing you again. She pulls you by your hips back on top of her. You feel her hands lightly moving down your back. She can’t keep her hands off of you, but you move your lips off slowly as you realize how things are progressing. You stare at Hazel, hesitant when you remember.  

“Hazel…are you sure you can do…more strenuous activities? You know you were beat up pretty badly, babe.” you look concerned as you sit up, moving off of her. You move off from on top of her and sit back on your bed. 

She nods excitedly like there is no problem, like she didn’t get the shit kicked out of her the other day and is perfectly okay. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine. I’m like almost 100% better anyways.” Hazel tries to sound sure, but you can tell she isn’t. You nod, still not fully unconvinced. You saw the fight and know she had taken quite a beating, and the last thing you wanna do is make it worse by having sex. 

You pause, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Babe, I really don’t think we should be doing anything. Plus, we have to be at the football game in like an hour.” Hazel nods, pouting her lip a bit as she thinks. You watch her fidget with her silver rings as she thinks of a solution, clearly not taking no for an answer. 

“Oh! Wait, wait, I got it.” Hazel looks excited, her blue eyes excited. She lays down on your bed. “I’ll just eat you out.” You pause, thinking for a few minutes about her solution,  

“I don’t know Hazel…what about you-”

 She cuts you off, hungrily kissing your lips as they press against hers. She cups your cheek and slips her tongue in your mouth. You melt instantly, feeling that warm feeling you get every time you kiss. After making out for a few minutes, you feel her pull away, your head a bit dizzy from the kiss.

“Please let me eat your pretty pussy. I promise I’ll be fine,” Hazel begs as she looks at you, slowly rubbing circles on your hips. Her words go straight to your core, turning you on.  

You look at her and give in, unable to resist her big blue eyes. “Fine, but you’re stopping the second you get dizzy or something feels off.” Hazel nods as her grip on your waist tightens as she looks up at you excitedly. 

She pulls your black lacey underwear from under your cheer skirt and throws them somewhere off in your room. You lean down and cup her face with her face, your lips crushing onto hers again, making out. Hazel moves her hands down, lightly squeezing your ass. Her lips linger, touching against yours as she looks up at you. 

You move, placing your hips over her face. You look at her as she stares back excitedly. You slowly lower yourself on her lips and waste no time licking around your wet and puffy folds. She licks along your lips slowly, and you gasp at the feeling of her tongue. She continues moving her tongue as you try to hold your hips, trying not to thrust them, Hazel’s injuries still in the back of your mind. You moan out her name as she sucks on your clit. 

“Fuck Hazel, please don't stop.” you close your eyes, grabbing the side of her sheets and slowly rolling your hips against her lips. 

She grips your ass under your cheer skirt, squeezing it. Her tongue slips inside your entrance, and your moan grows louder as her motions speed up slightly, eating you out like she’s starved. Your face grows hotter as you feel the arousal building; you feel yourself getting wetter under her touch. She places a smack on your ass, and you moan, not expecting to like it as much as you did.  

“Fuck, baby! I'm close!-yes, right there! Fuck Hazel!” 

Your back arch letting out a breathy moan as your orgasm gets closer. You thrust, moving your hips faster as she swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. You feel yourself coming undone as your orgasm hits. Cumming around Hazel’s lips. You breathe deeply and slowly move from on top of her, sitting in your bed. Hazel sits up, her chin wet and lips swollen. 

You look at her, wiping your wetness off her lips. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy, or do you have a headache?” 

Hazel smiles and shakes her head. You nod, still catching your breath. You feel her hand on your thigh, rubbing it softly, feeling her cold rings on your skin. 

“Yes, I’m fine; never been better.” She beams, happy from her previous activities. You kiss her lightly before standing up to finish getting ready for the game against Huntington. Hazel leans against her arms, watching you in your bed. 

“But after I feel better, I’m gonna have to fuck you in that skirt.” you turn around at her words, a bit shocked at how bluntly she put it. 

“Oh? You are. And eating me out while I'm wearing it isn't enough?” Hazel shakes her head lightly. 

“No. I mean, it's good enough for right now, but the thought of watching you bounce on my strap in that cute little skirt is making me feel a bit foggy and extremely turned on.” 

You nod as you return to putting on your makeup for the game. “Well, get a doctor’s note, and we can make that happen.”  

[writingoddess1125]

hello!! ⭐, I saw that your order section was open and yesterday I read your story of buggy with the Roger effect and Jessica Rabit and I loved it, and I would like to know if you could do a one shot or something shorter if you prefer showing how they met and they decided to get married I love your stories and I think that, like your buggy, he is my favorite character. If you don't like this request or you think it's not good to do it, you can just ignore it, it won't be a bad thing 😸 thank you and have a good day!! 💗✨ (pd. English is not my first language so sorry if something is not written well😔)

Deal! I love this little idea

Buggy x FemReader

Small angst + Fluff

Heart on my Sleeve

Prequel Of Roger and Jessica Rabbit Effect

Wanna Buy me a Ko-Fi ☕️

• Your village was one of the poorest villages in the East Blue, the taxes from the World Goverment crippling your home to be a starving wasteland.

• Mainly to the wealthy Governor who lived above your town.

• You owned a fabric shop but the fabrics you owned were old and starting to rot from the lack of buissness. The moths having more use put of your fabrics then you did-

• The newest pirate on the scene Buggy the Clown shows up to your village ready to pillage it, in his early 20s with a fresh faced crew. However they did not expect the village to look worse then before they arrived.

• "I thought you said this place had money?" Buggy asked as he looked at the place. Lowering his blades as it looked like this place- it was in shambles. Like it had been pillaged to time then a pirate

• You had walked out of your shop, seeing if maybe the baker had just enough flour so you could feed yourself. Turning to see the group of pirates that seemed better off then you and your people.

• Buggy stared hard at you and matched forward, seeing that you were quite pretty in his eyes as he stood before you.

• "You! Tell me what the hell is wrong with this place! We heard it was rich here!" He said angrily, clearly upset at not getting to a small village that at least had a few Berries.

• You looked up at the pirate, noting the far too big of clothes for his frame and his painted face- Not liking he was putting such an unflattering green around his watercolor eyes. His face twisting up in anger as he caught you staring at his face.

• "What are you staring at!? You looking at my nose!" He yelled angrily, his fingers going to the inner part of your coat where you assumed some weapon would be.

• "No your shirts too big for your frame and that shade of green doesn't compliment your eyes well" You said truthfully, At this point a knife or bullet being a kinder death then starving anyway-

•"U-Uh- What?" He said confused, Unsure how to answer. You reaching forward and putting your arms around his frame to pull back the shirt. Taking a pin from your pocket and pinning the shirt back so it fit properly.

• "See- Your shirt is too big. It looks better fitted like that" You pointed out, His faze looking down at the pinned back shirt. His face red at how close you got to him, or that you'd touched him at all.

• "As for money we have non. The governor has the taxes so hide no one here can even feed themselves" You said truthfully, The young clown blinking at you in surprise.

• "Er- Y-Youre making fun of me somehow right? Like my Nose" He tried to yell again grabbing the front of your dirty shirt- clearly not used to someone trying to give him kind useful advice without some sort of motive.

• "I would never make fun of your nose, it looks fine to me anyways" You snap back and slap his hand away calmly. He blinked at you surprised and released your hand- His eyes going up the hill of the village and seeing the grand governors house hidden in some trees.

• He huffed and shoved you hard, you falling into the mud as him and his crew marched past up to the Governors home.

• However what did surprise you was the next Morning the Captian and his Crew stood in the village square and announced he now owned the village. Saying he was Buggy the Clown- and that he was now in charge.

• Before starting to hand out some stolen treasure??? Giving some supplies he had 'liberated' from the Governors house.

• You also noticed how his eyes lingered on you as he did this.

• It had been a few months like this, he would stop by randomly pay for the village. He wasn't taking taxes but instead paying things- it was improving greatly, the cracks of the pavements on the streets getting repaired, new paint on the building and new businesses flourishing-

• But you noticed how he would pay extra attention to your shop- Getting all his things from you. How you got extra rolls of fabric delivered to your door or how he would pay for all these extra accessories to his costumes.

• "You seamstress I want another coat!" He yelled as he invaded your shop.

• Buggy was there again, asking for another ridiculous costume. You couldn't help but notice how often he was coming by- claiming he wanted new costumes by you and wanting to be measured everytime he came in.

• How he would blush when you measured around his chest. "You know, I noticed you always come through here and stop specifically at my shop for new outfits when you wear the same coat" You tease, watching him blush at you pointing this out.

• "So what!" He yelled out, his face as red as a cherry. You look at him and raise a brow at him, Not even having to say a word as Buggy deflated.

• "...I uh wanted to take you on a date" He grumbled, finally admitting what his plans were. You smiled at this, Setting the tape aside.

• "Now please do tell me, Why should I accept your offer for someone who not only yelled in my face but pushed me in mud-" You point out, even though you knew he most likely made up for it by him saving your village.

• "..I am sorry about that.." He forced out, you could tell he wasn't used to apologizing and was trying his hardest.

• "I forgive you, But that doesn't mean I'll forget" You say calmly. Smiling softly as you saw him looking ready to flip put at the rejection but you held a hand to him-

• "I know- So why don't we make a deal. Since I can tell you're really sorry why don't we agree to dinner and go from there? Its not a date per say but its a start" You said with a smile, his eyes lit up at hearing this at the prospect of getting to win you over.

• "Really!?" He says excitedly, Jumping up and down like a school boy as he blushed and giggled into his gloved hands like a kid. You couldn't help but find it adorable-

• For the next year Buggy would send gifts, love letters, help rebuild the village. Do everything to get in your good graces and ask for a official date every time he visited.

• Buggy would essentially own the Village at the point, 30% of his money went to the village to get it on its feet and keep it a small strip of paradise the very limited taxes he implimented later affer the village was florishing acted as a small form of secondary income. Mainly making sure people knew the place was protected by him as his reputation grew through time.

• Him even showing his unique Devil fruit abilties- Which you often abused for him to float up and grab the more expensive rolls of fabric or hang up finished cloths.

• The village also being a popular tourist destination for the friendly locals and nice scenery. So for Buggy it was worth the investment since originally put in.

• After that 'probation' year you would finally agree to officially date him and he was over the damn moon.

• While he would be secretive about you, his love language was strong. He is both physically and verbally affectionate- While he still throws his fits you know how to handle him well. Loving him both for his strengths and flaws.

• It would be 1 years of dating before Buggy would start planning how to pop the question.

- You were closing up shop for the day, humming along to a made up tune when you heard the back door of your shop being unlocked. You didn't have to look to know who it was, only one other person had the key to it.

"Hey Buggy Boo" You call out, smiling as you heard Buggy grumble and peel off his boots to leave them by the front door.

"That is still such a bad nickname" He grumbled before walking behind you and kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms around you. He smelled like the sea, clearly having just gotten off his shop to visit you. He had been taking more time out to see, wanting to get his bounty higher. Currently proud of his 5,000,000 berry bounty which for a early 20s pirate was fairly good he claimed.

"Ah you love it" You giggle which earned a adorable chuckle from the man.

"You know (Y/N)- I uh really like you and Want to spend my.."

"So I wanted us to have dinner tonight- I know you like that place down the street and want us to go there" He said, his voice very soft- Much softer then normal.

Smiling you turn around and kiss him on the lips.

"I'd love to" You say cheerfully, earning a crooked smile from him as he held you close.

As promised, that night Buggy took you to your favorite restaurant. Having gotten a private table in the back, you two spending hours just talking and sharing a meal together.

Buggy even pulling out a box of your favorite candies he had gotten out from his last adventure.

After dinner he lead you away to the more scenic parts of your Village a small meadow pass that had the most beautiful blue and white flowers, under the moonlight it looked so magical. You saw Buggy reach in his pockets and turn to face you, nervousness painted on his face as he shuffled his feet. Clearly prepared to get on one knee-

"You stole my Thunder!!" He cried in faux anger, you laughing hard as he ranted about how you knew so quickly, happy tears running down your cheeks as you smiled and his face turned deep red.

"Yes I will!" You said with a wide smile, your excitement getting the best of you as you slapped your hands over your own mouth. His jaw dropping in shock.

"I've been planning this for 4 months!!" He whined, face so red his nose was glowing as he stared at you.

"Im so sorry Baby, You just- You talk in your sleep my Love." You reveal with a smile, His face twisting up as he realized you'd known the whole time and let him try to have his moment anyway. You had just got too excited and answering too quickly-

As this sunk in he smiled widely and started to laugh, he couldn't help it! You were just too perfect for him! Despite everything you still let him have the spotlight. He kissed your lips eagerly and held you close, rocking the two of you side to side in pure joy.

"I.. I love you (Y/N)..So much- I cant wait for you to be my wife.." He said as he pressed his face into your neck- You could feel the warmth of tears hitting your skin exposed. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as you hug him close and cried against him in joy.

Pulling the both of you to the ground with a loud laugh as you two laid in the flowers- Laughs leaving you both as tears stilled from both of your eyes.

"I love you too Buggy Boo"

[rosesdrop]

Pick a weapon

What do they like about you

(Note: remember, this is a general reading so not everything is going to resonate perfectly, I might open personal reading services later, but for now, enjoy your reading ⭐❤💞)

Pile 1:

You have such luminous skin, there's possibly an age gap between you and this person, they like your resting bitch face, and how stubborn you are, such a gloomy mood that gives off adam's family and these sorts of gothic vibes, you've got sleepy eyes that are mesmerizing, and such a hard temperament, you're hard to please in this person's eyes, you make them so overwhelmed with all the kinds of moods that you carry within you, it makes this person have a hard time understanding you, you are always trying new things and it's just too much for this person, they have no idea where you get all this energy from. It could even be that you're from a different ethnicity and this person tries to understand you better, it makes them curious about you and they like it. Even when you talk it's too hard catching up with you, you're so expansive about all the topics in your conversation, you like to discuss all kinds of different subjects, this person adores that, they see how philosophical you are. They don't understand your mind, they're having such a hard time figuring you out pile 1 😂, it's such a struggle they're trying so hard, but they like it, the fact that you are bigger than the sun itself, how much you can overwhelm them and they get so burned out by your energy(I don't mean it in a negative way), the fact that you're not a force to be wreckend with. They just feel like you're too much for them to handle. You're most likely either a fire or an air sign. They mainly like your mood states , your emotional and temperamental center, it's so dramatic and entertaining. Your effect is just fatal on them, you're even making them have physical reactions upon how charged up they get around you, the reason for that could be that you have expansive energetic field, some of you could also have bigger and more curvier bodies. An additional message that I'm getting is that you get influenced by the moon cycles, you possibly get more energetic and lively that normal at night.

Pile 2:

You are very graceful in the way you talk, you may be sending blessings to people around you constantly and praying for others. They like your beauty, they find you to be just 'pretty'. They also like how wise you are, if you wear dresses this person likes seeing them on you, you are maybe on the shorter side and they find your height to be cute. Earth signs. They like how courageous you are, you can be so calm and steady when facing adversities and they find this so strong from you, you are the type of person that has a silent strength to them. You are so solid , so sure of yourself that it's hard to shake you. You always have the right sense of what to do. They like your smell, if you wear some kind of perfume they really like the smell of it. You could always be scoring the highest grades at any work you do, you're always so productive, and if you like cooking, you make the best food ever. This person sees you as self-reliant and self-sufficient, someone that doesn't like wasting much time on nonesense, and a person that keeps to themselves, and again, that makes them see you as very smart and wise.

Pile 3:

They like how sensitive you are to the environment around you, and how overly critical you are of everything, you might like crime movies that awaken your investigator side, to find clues and solve riddles. If you have green eyes specifically they like them, also how you put on your makeup. You're unapologetic in everything you do, you do whatever you want to do anyways, they're fascinated by that, it's like, you give the sense that you are elusive about what you want to do, especially the way you act about things, but you surprise them with the results, you may seem like you're just playing around at first impression but then this person gets impressed by the things you can achieve. You don't ask much from people. You're very unpredictable to this person, they think that you're a lucky and special person, unlike anyone else they've ever known.

Pile 4:

You're older than this person, or they like your maturity. They like how friendly you are, you give off this sense of familiarity to them and they feel welcomed and well treated in your presence and they respect you for that. You have an inspirational impact on this person, they take your words to heart, and they resonate with them, they give them space for creative pursuits and create space for new ideas in their mentality. If this person felt misunderstood and lost in the past you give them a new vision, a better one. The color black and gothic type of clothing fits you in their view, they think you're aloof and eccentric, you have a sharp mind but your ideas for them-they have a hard time organizing every thought proposed by you according to the actual situation, your thinking is superior for them.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 18 - Naga!Seonghwa + Asphyxiation & Predator/Prey

@thetypingpup Said: Naga!seonghwa, Asphyxiation + Consensual Predator/Prey A/n: I enjoyed this one just cause it's a little tamer than the rest imo. I also tried something a but different with the asphyxiation aspect, so I hope you enjoy it! Sort of a nice, calm reprise considering the last Hwa prompt I did lmaoo Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monstrous Features Word Count: 1,465 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Nature walks have always been one of your most favourite things. It’s a way to plug out of the world of technology for a while, and just immerse yourself in your immediate surroundings. It lets you see things and experience moments you normally would ignore in favour of social media or simply being on your phone. Plus, it’s a great way to clear your mind.

Which is exactly how you found this exact trail.

Granted, it’s been a little while since you’ve explored the jungle. The trip isn’t an easy one to take, but you manage to get away to this exact location at least once or twice a year. The locals are always kind and welcoming, and the cuisine is to die for. Besides, there’s one reason in particular that you always seem to come back to these shores.

The sun is beginning to set, and you curse yourself for not bringing a map. It’s been far too long since you’ve dared to traverse this particular path. Considering it’s one of the most confusing, you realize far too late that you probably shouldn’t have decided to walk it in the evening. 

Sundown when you’re lost is one of your worst enemies.

At least you have a bottle of water, your phone, and a small emergency flashlight should you need it.

The jungle is eerily quiet, shadows stretching across the trees the further the sun sinks behind the hills. Every now and then, you hear some leaves rustling behind you, and the occasional snap of something breaking under pressure.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting around the area.

For the past few kilometres, you’ve had this creeping sensation as if someone is trailing you. Only, every time you pause to look behind you, you see nothing but foliage covering your path. Every sway of the leaves you brush off as the wind, even though you haven’t felt a breeze for quite some time now.

The sound of something dropping to the ground can be heard, much too close for your own comfort. Leaves begin to rustle as if something is beginning to move towards you, cutting its way through the bush as if it’s done this many times before.

There’s no doubt about it. You’re being stalked.

Wasting no time, you immediately hasten your pace. Using the last few rays of the dying sun to orient yourself, you take off towards the east. At least you know the town is in that direction, and even if you end up cutting through a path less travelled, it’s a much shorter distance to traverse than if you tried to loop back around to the start.

Pulling out your phone, you attempt to call for help.

No signal.

Various curses escape you as you march through the bush, tucking your phone away for safe keeping. You’d rather wear down the battery on your flashlight first before you drain your only means of contact to the outside world. Normally, you’d adhere to not even looking at your phone while on a nature walk, but this is one of the reasons you always bring it with you.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Pulling out your little flashlight, you flick the switch to turn it on. The dark shadows cast by the surrounding trees make it hard to see the final rays of the setting sun. With the oncoming darkness, a chill begins to fill the air, and a shiver caresses your spine.

Behind you, you swear you hear something slithering amongst the trees.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you waste no time in taking off into the darkness in front of you. Feet pound the earth relentlessly alongside your racing heart, the blood rushing through your ears making it hard to hear your surroundings.

What really makes your blood run cold is the low, hissing chuckle you can hear cutting through the trees.

Panic begins to rise in your throat, and your foot catches on a root. Luckily, you only stumble a little bit, managing to stay on your feet only for both your flashlight and water bottle to go flying out of your hands. Your flashlight bounces off a rock, an audible crack sounding before the light flickers off somewhere beneath the bush.

You don’t stop running. The creature - or whatever it is - that’s following you sounds hot on your trail, and you don’t want to waste time fumbling around in the dark for a broken flashlight. Your water bottle is not more important than your life, either. 

Besides, you still have your phone.

Darting around the trunk of a large tree, you press yourself right up against it. Your lungs burn, attempting to catch your breath as your palms scratch against the hardened bark. Frantically, your eyes dart all around, attempting to see any type of movement through the darkness. Your ears strain, but all you can hear is the frantic beating of your own heart.

A small slithering sound rises from off to your right, and you clasp your hands over your mouth. Despite your heavy breathing, you’re hoping it helps to muffle your panting even just a little bit.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you swear you see a flash of gold glint through the darkness.

The faintest of breaths tickles the side of your ear.

“Hello, My Love."

Your whole body shakes, turning your head slowly to the left.

“I finally found you.”

A pleased hiss escapes him as you freeze in your spot, a scream getting lodged in your throat.

His tongue darts out to scent the air, and his eyes flutter shut.

“You smell divine.” Golden eyes open to stare deeply into your own, pupils nothing but thin slits as his tongue traces over his lower lip.

Finally, it’s as if your body catches up to your brain, and you feel yourself back in control. You go to push yourself off of the tree and scramble away from him, only for something smooth and cool to wrap itself around your ankles.

Your breath hitches, and you find yourself pinned to that tree by a long torso, deep greens and blues seeming to intertwine in the most delicate of scales.

“Ah-ah,” A wicked grin paints sinful lips, tongue darting out once more. “You’re not going anywhere, My Sweet.”

“What do you want?” The more you struggle to free yourself, the tighter he wraps around you.

His head cocks to the side, almost in disappointment.

“The first time you’ve seen me in years and those are the first words you decide to speak to me?” A pout tugs at his lips, shifting in closer to you. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

“Seonghwa,” You sigh out his name, squirming beneath his embrace.

“I missed you. Did you miss me?” He blinks those wide, shining eyes at you before leaning in. Tenderly, he nuzzles against your neck, tongue flicking against your pulse. “It doesn’t matter. You came back!”

Again, his tail tightens around you.

Your breath hitches, finding it harder and harder to breathe. Tingles erupt on your skin, beginning to feel lightheaded as he begins placing tender kisses along your neck.

A pleasant shiver caresses your spine.

“Do you remember our promise?” He whispers, peeking up at you so lovingly through his lashes.

Taking as deep of a breath in as you can, you nod your head. Your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a confirmation on your lips.

“I was starting to worry you had forgotten.” He says, eyes drooping. Subconsciously, his tail tightens even further, restricting your movements entirely. “You wouldn’t forget me. You couldn’t! We mean too much to each other.”

“Seonghwa-“ You manage to just choke out his name, vision beginning to fade in the corners.

“It’s okay, My Sweet. Remember our promise. You know I would never hurt you.” He hums, caressing your cheek so tenderly with his one hand. “Sleep. Fall into the arms of the one who loves you most. I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up, and then, we can finally have the start to our forever.”

Your eyelids start to droop, breathing evening out as your consciousness begins to fade. Yet, for all the danger you seem to be in, you cannot help but be completely calm. After all, this is what you wanted. It’s what you agreed to. What you both agreed to.

The moment your eyes fall shut, Seonghwa unravels his tail from around you. His arms are immediately there to catch you, a loving smile pulling at his lips to mirror your own. Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen in his golden gaze as he holds you close.

“Finally,” He hums, tracing his fingers delicately over your features. “You’re mine.”

[deepestnightcolor]

Hear me out, the farmer's in need of a confidence boost and tries on some lingerie. Decides she should to get a second opinion and sends a pic to a friend, but accidentally sent the picture to her crush, Sam instead. Please tell what would happen next😋

ᴀ/ɴ: Here I am! Thank you so much for your time to request this. I hope you enjoy! I really thought this would be a shorter one, but I guess things escalated. Huh. Also kids, remember, you are beautiful the way you are and you all deserve a Sam in your life that will let you know that. Love you. ALSO I HAVE A NEW BANNER MADE BY @sashiavi WE THANK HER NICELY

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4192 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: hints of sexting, masturbation, kissing, slobbering, pierced dick, some sort of mating press, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, dirty talk, more praise, lingerie

☾ ꜱɴᴀᴘꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ☽

Sam’s fingers were shaking as he stared at the screen, disbelief written over his facial features in all bold letters. His lower lip wobbled as his blue eyes flicked from one corner to the next, up and down, side to side, trying to hammer every single detail into his brain, trying to tuck it away safely and forever. >>does this look ok? Feeling too ugly for it ☹<< the text below read – and Sam simply couldn’t believe how someone could have been so fucking wrong.? You see, he wasn’t in disbelief over how you looked. Sam had always been very much aware of how fucking hot he found you, how attracted he was to you, and how beautiful you were. He just couldn’t believe you couldn’t see what he saw. Didn’t he see how nicely the soft-looking fabric accentuated your chest? Didn’t you fucking see how it hugged your body in a way that made him envious, wishing that it were his hands in place of the lingerie you had put on. Yoba, all these details would be haunting him on lonely nights, and he was there for it. Your skin just looked so soft and the pout you were wearing on your face- Sam’s cock decided to make itself known by bobbing in the confines of his pants, but Sam had to set a record straight. >>I think you see a different picture cause you look absolutely AMAZING like holy fucking shit I just wanna have this picture in my brain forever and ever.<< He pressed “send” before he could form a thought that wasn’t fuelled by his dick and the outrage of you thinking this wasn’t anything but gorgeous.

His blue eyes trailed back up to the picture, pierced tongue wetting his lips that had started to feel dry when a text bubble caught his attention. You were typing. And then you weren’t. And then you were again. Sam had promised himself to pay attention to that, but he found himself letting his eyes follow the promising trails of your gorgeous body, the curves it offered. Yoba, what he would have given to touch you. He had barely even noticed that his hand had slipped underneath the waistband of his pants, gripping the length of his cock with still shaky fingers. He just couldn’t help himself! Not with how sweet you looked for him! A shaky breath left Sam’s lips as he gripped his cock tighter, allowing his hand to trace up and down, tip of his tongue sticking out as he tried to pace himself.

The poor man almost flinched when your picture suddenly slid upwards, making room for a new text: >>Omy Sam I am so so so sorry, I meant to send this to a friend fuck I am so sorry, please forget this<< Sam’s lower lip wobbled as he scrolled to find the picture gone. Another shaky breath left him as he leaned against the wall behind him, eyes closing as he desperately tried to remember the image, but his imagination and memory just couldn’t keep up with your beauty. A low groan left him, dick throbbing in sheer disappointment at the lack of attention as the blond’s hand had stopped its affections, numbly resting upon his shaft. Sam had been allowed a glance of heaven, and now he had been dropped back on the cold, hard ground.

But there was something that bothered him more than this sweet carrot that had been dangled in front of him being gone.

>>ok so I know that this pic wasn’t meant for me n all and that you are prolly really embarrassed rn, but I really meant what I said. You don’t just look ok, you look absolutely amazing like holy fucking shit.<< Sam watched the text bubble appear, just to disappear moments later. And there it was again, indicating you were typing. And then you weren’t. The blond allowed the metal ball on his tongue to glide along the back of his teeth, before a sudden idea popped into his head. >>wait.<<

The blond scrambled to get up from his bed, struggling out of his baggy jeans and peeling himself out of his jacket. It wasn’t long before he stood in front of the mirror with nothing but his boxers, snapping a picture of himself pretty much shamelessly.

It wasn’t long before the picture appeared on your phone, followed by a simple message. >>See? Now we are even<< >>But if you want me to prove what I think is true…<< >>Or we will never mention this again if you prefer my lips will be sealed, pinky promise.<< >>FUCK you are hot tho!! Absolutely beautiful!! Please never think anything else…<<

Your cheeks were still red with hot embarrassment, your eyes stinging with tears that had been welling up, but Yoba, did Sam look good. And what an opportunity that was! You squished your thighs together, heart pounding from seeing your crush exposing himself like this – for you, nonetheless. If you put your phone away now, you could forget all about this. Pretend this never happened. Crush on Sam from afar-

>>Come over in five?<< >>Count me in, darling.<<

He couldn’t believe how fast his legs had found his pants again, and how quickly he was wearing that hoodie again. But here he was, completely dressed and flying out of the door like a bat from hell. He didn’t even hear his mother yelling after him to close the door, the only thing he heard was the pounding of his heart and the crunching of grovel beneath the soles of his shoes. When had he even put on shoes? He didn’t fucking know, but he DID know that he needed to be there – needed to show you what he saw when he looked at you.

 Yoba, he had been crushing on you for so long, and now here he was. Standing in front of your door, ready to prove you that you were more than just okay. To him, you were perfect.

“He-“ he started when you finally opened the door, but the word, albeit small, got stuck in his throat in a way that forced him to cough. He had expected you to open the door wearing something, at least a shirt, but no. You were standing there, wearing the same lingerie you had revealed on the picture. The sound of blood rushing through his ears stopped all of a sudden, instead he could feel his cock hardening yet again, Adam’s apple bobbing as you looked up at him through your lashes, arm loosely covering your stomach. “Hey,” you croaked, lower lip wobbling as you looked up at him. “That ba-“

This time you were the one being shut up abruptly, but not by your own admission. No, it was Sam’s eager lips finding yours in a passionate kiss, his hands holding on to your cheeks in a way that gave you no choice but to melt into it. “You,” Sam breathed against your lips, “are,” another kiss met your lips, a tongue sloppily tracing over them, allowing you to taste the metal pierced through it for just a brief moment, “so beautiful,” he whispered, not giving you the time to respond when his lips already pressed against yours again, his tongue finding its home in your mouth.

A small moan left your lips, your hands running through the blonde mess of hair, fingers catching some stray strands and wrapping around them to tug Sam closer, toward you, to feel him press against your skin. Oh Yoba, how right that felt, how it allowed the embarrassment from before to slowly wash away. Not completely, but you had a feeling that Sam would be more than willing to help you ease into this further and further until you could let yourself go.

“You wouldn’t believe,” the blonde started now, his soft lips brushing down your cheeks, kissing your jawline until they found their way to your neck, “how I fucking felt seeing that picture. Yoba, baby, you made me shake.” You could feel your skin beak out into goosebumps at his words – the thought of someone like you having an impact like that on someone as handsome as Sam? On someone you had been crushing on for Yoba knew how long? That was hard to grasp, out of your wildest dreams- As if Sam had sensed your thoughts drifting off, he slowly pulled away from you, letting his blue eyes drag down your body slowly. It was hard for you to resist the urge to cover yourself, but something that rested within the swirls of blue made you stay strong – you even puffed out your chest a little. “Fuck.”

Sam’s hands were quick to slip under your butt, pulling a squeak from your vocal cords as he picked you up with quite the ease. “Bedroom?” He asked, just barely pulling away from peppering your neck with kisses. Yoba, it was hard to focus like this, pressed up against him while his lips were finding spots on your neck that made your flesh break out in goosebumps. “Down the ha-hall, third door on the left,” you murmured, collecting all of your willpower to not just let yourself get lost in the feeling of soft lips pressing against your pulse point, trying your very hardest to not just thread your fingers through Sam’s fluffy hair like a desperate, mindless whore.

But when your back landed on the bed and when you saw Sam removing his hoodie in one swift movement, tossing it aside with a lack of care in favour of letting his eyes rake down your body again you knew you were over with. To be fair, however, Sam wasn’t holding up much better. The sight of you alone made his heart stutter and flutter in his chest, and he didn’t even want to mention the pre-cummy mess that his dick had drooled in his boxers. The small jingle of his belt buckle made your eyes drift downward, tongue running over your lower lip as you laid eyes upon the bulge still hidden behind the thick fabric of the man’s jeans. You barely even noticed that Sam had shimmied out of them, eyes focused on the wet spot on his boxers.  Could you really have been the sole reason for this?  “I have never seen anyone so beautiful,” Sam whispered, his calloused hands running up your shins oh so carefully and gently, the blond allowing himself some time before they settled on the inside of your thighs, a small smile playing on his lips when he saw you shudder. He urged your legs open with gentle pressure before falling on his knees in-between them, his fingers picking up their journey on your body. Slowly sliding up your thighs, enjoying the conjunction between your crotch and legs, drifting along your hips and up your sides. His breathing had already grown heavier, lower lip bitten to stop it from trembling as he drank you in like a man close to dying of thirst that had just found an ample oasis. You almost had to squirm under his gaze, under his light, considerate touch, but by Yoba, did it make you feel good. “Look at those tits…” His chest was heaving and falling quickly now – it took the poor man so much to hold back. His cock was throbbing in sync with his heart, achy tip leaking pre-cum like its life depended on it. And yet he held back, he wanted, no, needed you to know what he thought of you. How highly he thought of you. How much you took his breath away.

The blond leaned down as if he was bowing for prayer, his lips finding home on your body again by pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach. The soft inhale coming from you made him smile again, and yet he stayed focused on the duty at hand. Slow kisses were pressed against your skin as he made his way upward, following along your lingerie when it came across his path. Lips met soft silk that kept your breasts hidden, but he didn’t mind. Quite the opposite – he decided to use the opportunity to let his tongue loll out, wet muscle dragging over the sweet fabric, tenderly wandering up your breast until it discovered your hardening nipple. His eyes drifted up to you again, giving you a soft smile and then he licked over your nipple, making your back arch off of the bed. “Look at you…,” he murmured, tongue drawing a small circle around the erect bud. Then he crossed the valley of your breasts with the same tender attention he had given to your chest, finding the other nipple to dote on it as well.

His hand didn’t remain resting, either. It started its journey again, but this time around it made its way down, locating the lacey waistband of your panties. When his eyes met yours again this time around, they were asking for silent permission. You barely could nod before you felt fingers dip down, calloused pads meeting wet folds, making Sam inhale sharply though his teeth. “Fuck, baby, holy fucking shit- you are so wet for me already? Shit.” Another sharp inhale followed the first, Sam’s long fingers gliding through your cunt, stopping just above your entrance and making their way back up.

The newfound attention had you writhe beneath Sam, not enough to have him slow you down, but enough to make him chuckle quietly against your tit. “That’s a good girl- hell, I didn’t think you could be any more breathtaking, but look atcha, look at your face, Yoba…I think I am in love.” His lower lip caught in-between his teeth again as his eyes fixed on your face, his fingers keeping up their teasing of your cunt, just so that he could keep seeing that expression resting on your face. Nose scrunched up, lower lip bitten, eyes flicking from his hand to his face, pretty lashes fluttering whenever you anticipated him to finally pay attention to your clit. “Sammmm,” you whispered, bucking up your hips when the pad of his pointer finger threatened to catch at your entrance again, “pleasssssssse-“ And how could he resist? You were wrapped up in lingerie, and you were the most gorgeous person on this planet and you said please-

“FUuuuuck,” Sam groaned when he felt your gummy walls suckle around his finger, eyes rolling back into his skull. If you were so greedy for a single finger already, how would you act about his cock? The thought alone made his penis twitch, the sticky fabric clinging to his head seemingly getting wetter by the second. The squelching noises that he coaxed out of your cunt with every thrust of his fingers were hot, but they were no match to your moans. They were fucking angelic, and he slurped and drank them up like his life depended on it. How could one human being be so entirely perfect and not fucking see it? It left Sam speechless, made his heart soar with something short of helplessness. He needed to show you. Show you how he saw you.

The kisses he planted all over you were wet and almost desperate, a second finger joing th one snuggly pressed up in your cunt. “My pretty girl,” he rambled, kissing your chest, your stomach, your collar bones, his fingers curling and pushing, poor boy slowly becoming frantic to coax these sounds out of you, to make you feel what he felt. “Pretty, pretty girl.”

His fingers were long, pushing and prodding at spots that made your world twirl. The sweet words being whispered at you didn’t help you trying to find your footing or the ability to speak, quite the opposite. The only thing that left your mouth were moans, body much too focused on chasing the source of pleasure, overwhelmed by where to start. The places where his lips fired up your already burning skin? Or should you have rather chased his fingers with your hips whenever they dared to pull out? Your body short handedly decided to react to all of it, squirming and bucking, arching and squeezing, tugging at hair as you moaned Sam’s name with a certain urgency. “Sam, please-“ “Please what, baby?” He breathed, his own breathing laboured as he licked a fat stripe up your cleavage, up your throat, pressing a needy little kiss to your lips. “Dick- I need your fuckin’ dick-“

You didn’t have to tell Sam twice. He had promised himself to keep it slow, but holy fucking shit. He was hard and he needed you or he was pretty sure he would die. “You sure?” He asked, already fumbling with the waistband of your boxers, heart taking a relieved leap the moment he saw you nod. His dick seemed more than ready to be released, the small wet smack as it hit your stomach only a small testimony of the fact. Sam was panting still as he looked down at you, allowed his eyes to really take you in once more. You didn’t look as untouched as you had before, slobber and hickeys, reddening bitemarks and flushed skin proving him that this wasn’t a dream, that he was really here. He finally allowed himself to slide his fingers out of you, greedy man not even hesitating before they had been slipped into his mouth, throat bobbing and jumping as he suckled them clean with small moans around them. It made your thighs twitch to see him like this, seemingly greedy for you in a way that no man before had been. “You really are perfect,” Sam spoke around his fingers, the wet digits resting on your thigh just moments later.

The blond looked down at you affectionately, small hiss leaving him when he wrapped his fingers around his hard dick, allowing the messy head to slide up and down through your wet folds, hypnotized by the wet sounds such a simple action elicited. Yoba, he had come in here with a crush, and he would leave with you imprinted on his heart and soul – and, to be fair and less romantic, on his dick. “Fuck, Sam, pleaaaase, just fuck me,” you whined again, making him swallow thickly. You really were something, weren’t you? And Yoba, how it melted him. How it melted his heart that you had grown comfortable. No hand covering you up anymore, instead one had found refugee holding on his hair, the other digging into the sheets beneath you. And that was how it should be. How you should feel. Confident to show yourself.

The grind meeting his cock made Sam groan lowly, small chuckle leaving his lips. “Growing impatient, are we?” To be fair, he was, too. So it didn’t come as a surprise that he couldn’t hold back any longer and let the head of his dick finally was lined up with your pretty cunt, Sam’s hips slowly pushing forward.

You gasped for air as you felt him slowly enter you, pushing you open with the thick girth of his dick. Your head fell back into the pillow, hair splayed out around you like a fallen halo. Did you fucking know what you did to Sam? Did you know how down bad you had him for him? Did you fucking know? Because he needed you to. Desperately so. He knew the moment he bottomed out inside of you, the moment he heard that loud, quivering moan – he wouldn’t leave until you would chant about how angelic you were.

“Tell me what you are,” Sam murmured, slowly pulling back your hips. Your eyes met his, orbs clouded with the pleasure of being speared on his dick, and even though his brain was fried enough to be ready to hump into you like a bitch in heat, he could still make out a hint of confusion. “Tell me what you are,” Sam repeated, pushing forward again, taking in how your tits jiggled, how your back arched and how your eyes closed in bliss. “I-I don- aaaah, fuck, Sam!” you gasped, the next thrust making you decide thinking definitely wasn’t worth it. But the blond had other plans. “You,” he began, thrusting forward a little harder, “are,” he hissed with a smack of his hips, “gorgeous,” he almost barked, making your eyes widen, lower lip trembling as you looked in the blue eyes of a man that was serious. “I am-“ There was no chance to finish your sentence, because something had snapped within Sam. His hips began to piston forward, dick drilling inside of your pussy as if he tried to fuck the words he had spoken inside of you. If you had planned on speaking the idea was discarded by now, low moans of Sam’s name leaving your mouth instead, shaky fingers raking down his back to leave some marks of your own. “Fucking beautiful,” Sam repeated between strained huffs, humping at you desperately, “can’t—fuck, your pussy is fucking amazin’, baby—I can’t, fuckshit, I can’t believe you aren’t seein’ this, baby, oohhh Yoba.” The squelching of your cunt was met with the aggressive smacking of the man’s balls as he pounded your cunt, one of his hands finally finding yours to intertwine your fingers. You let it happen, breathlessly moaning Sam’s name as you felt his tip kiss your cervix, forcing your eyes to roll back into your skull. His pierced tip bumped against your walls, your toes curling for him as you squeezed his hand. This wasn’t how you had expected your day to go – but you weren’t complaining. No, because every time you opened your eyes you were met with two pools of blue, clouded over with lust and oh so pussy-drunk, and yet you still always managed to make out the adoration, the earnest and even through a thin veil of tears that had slowly begun forming in your eyes you still knew neither would leave, because Sam’s thrusts made you feel it all.

The bed was creaking in protest to the way your bodies were intertwined, but neither of you could have cared less. Not with how good the both of you felt, not with the much more important things you had at hand. Sam was pretty sure he was on the brink of crying himself – your cunt clenched around him in a way that allowed him to feel every single of your twitches, even the slightest spasm, and he could feel your pussy trying to suck him back in whenever he pulled out just to impale you on his dick again. Your hands were still locked together, and you were sure you would never want to let go, not with how good Sam made you feel. But there it was, that coil in your stomach. Twisting and turning, growing with every damn thrust, with every bump of that smooth piercing against your walls, with every moan that tumbled from your lover’s lips. It became apparent that you wouldn’t last much longer, and given the look on Sam’s face, he wouldn’t either. You allowed your eyes to slip shut, feeling those lips all over your body again. Teeth biting and nibbling your skin, hot breath kissing sweaty skin. A sudden push against your leg forced you into a new position, low moan searing from your throat as you could feel Sam deeper, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic, desperate, just like how you were feeling. You were teetering on the edge, breath hitching, eyes rolling, your back arching. “That’s it, baby, that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, cum for me, baby, I can feel you clenching! I know you can, come on, pretty, come on, beautiful girl, cum over my cock, drench me- thaaaaaaat’s iiiiit,” Sam rambled, low laughed groan leaving his lips as he felt your little cunt spasming, your hips bucking and squirming as your orgasm took you. He was so close to bursting himself, thrusts becoming sloppy as he tried his very best to keep it up to take you through your high, but when he saw that look in your eyes, it was over with him. Thick spurts of cum painted your walls white, his cock throbbing against the clench of your walls, the whimper that left Sam high in pitch and pathetic in tone. His quick thrusts had become pathetic little humps, the blond completely whipped by the way your pussy was milking him. He couldn’t let his hips still just yet, needed to keep fucking forward, needed you to feel every inch of his twitchy dick, and you took it. Took it so well with your little twitches and bucks until he finally stilled to a halt.

The room had suddenly become pretty silent aside from heavy panting and the mild rustling of sheets. That was until Sam spoke up again. “Tell me what you are,” he forced between quick breaths, pressing gentle kisses to your face, kisses that silently told you how good you were, how proud he was of you. You smiled blissfully, because this time, you had an answer. “I am beautiful.”

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 2

Read part 1

Roy closed the door after him, leaving me still half-shocked at the situation. I felt disgusting. I was still soaking in sweat by this whole rude awakening, and I smelt awful. Like Roy always did. I couldn't do this. I couldn't stay in this sweaty piece of shit of a body. I decided I HAVE to take a shower and clean myself. At least get this sweaty stench off of me.

I wasn't thrilled about having to see myself naked in Roy's body, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I had to. I turned on the hot water and stripped. Trying not to look down, I started cleaning myself and noticed many things in Roy's body I didn't before. How he's actually a bit shorter than me, how thick he was, how soft his body felt (excluding his rough hands).

At some point, I started moving down and was finally confronted with the lower half of Roy's body. It was painful for me to see his stubby dick peeking out of a hairy bush. "I'm stuck with this for now, but it's only temporary." I tried to tell myself, cringing again at how Roy's voice came out of me.

I dried up and went to my room to get dressed, but I found this to be more challenging than I thought. After barely fitting into my underwear, I tried picking a shirt, but I couldn't find anything to fit my new size. I tried putting on one of my baggiest shirts, but I just couldn't fit. I struggled with it for a good minute before starting to sweat again and admitting defeat. There was no other choice other than to go to Roy's room and wear something he had in my new size. I ended up taking underwear and light shorts but found out that all of his shirts were in the wash. Of course. I took one from his laundry basket and took a sniff of Roy's essence. "Hmm… Clean enough.".

I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the fact that I was in Roy's body.

I tried reading one of my books, but it was hard to concentrate for some reason. It took me a few times to understand what's going on. I thought it was just an older book with older English, but maybe it was because I had to constantly look at his think hand and fingers holding the book.

Later on, I tried one of his video games, thinking it could pass the time better. I started up the console and connected to some sort of multiplayer shooting game. I got the hang of things pretty quickly and started winning matches. Maybe I also got Roy's muscle memory along with his body? But my winning streak was soon met with my annihilation by the opposing team. "Kus ummak!" I shouted in anger to the empty house on instinct. Why did I say that?

The day went on with nothing of note. I stayed home all day, had a nap, played games. At some point, I answered Roy's phone and pretended to be him to avoid suspicion. I was weird, talking to someone I don't know with no issue. Like I knew what he wanted to hear.

Evening came, and there was still no sign of Roy in my body. I was starting to worry since I was at his mercy in this situation. I realized he could just disappear, and I would never see my body again. With this new fear, I called my phone to make sure he's coming back soon.

He answered the call, talking through the Bluetooth speaker in his (or my?) car. "Hey, what's up?" He said. "You're on speaker with the guys." I heard some laughter in the background. Was he hanging out with MY friends?!"

"Ah, yeah, hey." I said, trying to cover up the fact I was blackmailed into lending my body. "Just wanted to check when you're coming back. It's getting late."

I heard my friends in the background again. "Why is he acting like your dad?" "Haha he's lonely. Fucking cringe."

My face became red with embarrassment.

"It's ok, man. We're on our way back. Be there in 30."

"Ok, hurry up."

"Don't worry, going str-"

The call ended with a horrible crashing sound ringing in my ear. I was stunned. What just happened? I called again. No answer. I was in panic mode. Called again. Nothing. My heart was beating so fast, my body sweating again from the anxiety. Did he crash my fucking car?

The fourth time was a dud. Only at the 5th try I got an answer.

"ROY! DID YOU FUCKING CRASH MY CAR?" I shouted.

"What?" It was my voice, but Roy was clearly disoriented.

"JUST ANSWER. ARE YOU OK???"

"Yeah. I mean, maybe. Now I'm not so sure. My head got hit real bad. I'm bleeding."

"Fuck." That's my head that's gonna need to recover. "What about the others?"

"They're fine. They called me an ambulance."

"Thank god." I sighed in relief. "I was so sure all of you died."

"Haha it would take a bit more to kill me Roy."

My blood ran cold. "What did you call me?"

"Your name. Roy. Did I say something else? I really need them to check my head."

Again. I was stunned. Was he calling me that because my friends were near or did he really hit his head that bad?

"Hey, umm, are your friends with you?"

Roy sighed. "No, they're waiting by the wreck, I went aside for a bit to call everyone."

Stunned again.

"Listen Roy, I need to call my insurance, we'll talk later, ok?"

The phone slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. He thinks he's me? There's no way. No fucking way.

No. Fucking. Way.

When he finally came back, my fears were confirmed. He really forgot ever being himself or having the ability to swap bodies for that matter. I tried to convince him, make his memories re-appear. But nothing worked. He dismissed me and called me crazy no matter how hard I tried. At some point, he was fed up and locked himself in my room.

I was almost sobbing. This was it. I was stuck in his fucking body with no way to go back. With no other choice, I went to Roy's room and leaned against his bed. On his floor. In his body. Knowing that I will now have to live his life.

Thanks for reading. Part 3 maybe?

[uniquedinosaurdreamland]

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

🌸

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. “Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut

word count: 9.9k

summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.

pinterest board: vapor

warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(

note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3

Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb. 

Still can’t. 

He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air. 

The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.

It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all. 

And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point. 

This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you. 

Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.

The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels. 

It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes. 

Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing? 

He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day. 

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream. 

“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones. 

The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them. 

“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully. 

You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows. 

You. 

“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention. 

“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable. 

If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust. 

He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you. 

“Your nose first, then your dick.” 

It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him. 

And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled. 

It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power. 

He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind. 

And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden. 

Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over. 

“Spank me.” 

Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes. 

“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.” 

The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.

Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation. 

“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.” 

He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs. 

Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms. 

And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this. 

Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either. 

Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?” 

Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth. 

You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being. 

And along with your submission come out your words. 

In perfect fashion.

“No, I want to suck you off.” 

And along with those your orgasm, too. 

Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again. 

Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.

You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging. 

In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk. 

“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.” 

You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him. 

And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.

“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it. 

But he wants you to come like this, too.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.” 

You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue. 

A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name. 

And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you. 

“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.” 

You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary. 

Or at least he thought so. 

“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.  

“Is that so?” 

You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin. 

He might just give you a taste of it now. 

It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love. 

Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently. 

It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out. 

“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.” 

The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.

At your ever persisting service. Eternal. 

Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears. 

He hears your phone ring. 

His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right. 

“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.” 

Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you. 

It doesn’t lessen his fire, though. 

“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.” 

His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in. 

You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.” 

You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers. 

Your legs begin to shake. 

Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?” 

“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.” 

Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm. 

“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face. 

He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back. 

“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”

The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.

And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies. 

And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care. 

He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it. 

Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist. 

It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door. 

His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of. 

It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend. 

An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him. 

Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through. 

Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling. 

“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate. 

“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.

“Do you think the water is cold?” 

Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one. 

Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest. 

“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.” 

Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you. 

“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.” 

A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat. 

A hunger for a cigarette. 

He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because. 

“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.” 

You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony. 

And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you. 

He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it. 

And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem. 

Something in his pants. 

And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones. 

His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it. 

Perhaps, it truly does. 

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?” 

You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.

A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.   

“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.” 

Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing. 

“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.” 

Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?” 

It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip. 

Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.” 

He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down. 

You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly. 

He’s about to find out. 

Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down. 

He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there. 

And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water. 

The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills. 

You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels. 

But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it. 

You asked for it. 

He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him. 

That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles. 

You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top. 

Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations. 

“That’s for me catching you.” 

Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard. 

“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another. 

You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck. 

“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.” 

You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world. 

He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it. 

“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”

It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave. 

“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.” 

He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death. 

When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly. 

“That’s what you get, my love.” 

You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore. 

Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight. 

“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.” 

It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about. 

But he is changing his ways. For you. 

You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting. 

“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away. 

Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this. 

“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.” 

You mewl. “Yes, please.” 

In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume. 

“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.” 

The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster. 

Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks. 

Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard. 

“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.” 

He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.” 

Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home. 

And it begins to rain. 

Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity. 

He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back. 

Not so bare anymore. 

You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him. 

Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure. 

“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.” 

He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.” 

He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later. 

Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached. 

He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself. 

You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso. 

Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it. 

“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.” 

You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.” 

He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless. 

“Then, touch yourself for me.” 

He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal. 

“You have to ride it well, then.” 

You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will.” 

Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…

Then, he leaves you to it. 

Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless. 

“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.” 

A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back? 

And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you. 

“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip. 

“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.” 

He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?” 

“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.” 

He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.” 

The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds. 

That’s his very fucking undoing. 

Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones. 

And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow. 

He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss. 

He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again. 

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.” 

You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore. 

He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit. 

Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together. 

He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower. 

He tells you of the demon living in his chest. 

“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.” 

You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you. 

He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies. 

And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body. 

And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become. 

It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency. 

He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo. 

“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other. 

Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist. 

Quite literally. 

He’s banging his male therapist.

The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you. 

And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything. 

Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again. 

Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.

And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along. 

He and you. A singularity. 

The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart. 

No third party. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[walpu]

A thought, Aventurine thinking that he's the dom in the relationship and then reader pulls out uno reverse, kabedoning him against a wall with their leg

"Get dommed lmfao" - [Y/n]

LMAO okay this is funny

I'm sorry this post is a but shorter than my other ones, I've been super busy for the past few days and didn't have much time to write 😭

Aventurine trying (and failing) to be a dom

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, sub!Aven, nsfw-y

I really can't picture Aven as a hard dom but I think that in some scenarios he would feel more comfortable if he considers himself to be the one in control.

Like if you two just started dating and maybe you didn't know each other for a long period of time before that.

Or if you had some sort of rivalry before you became a couple.

He'll try to show you that you're his, constantly reminding you this by... clinging to you and whining if he doesn't get enough of your attention.

And, well, by throwing some flirty and smug remarks here in there. In a way, it's another way to keep his mask on.

He would, however, be able to be a proper dom in the bed. Ordering you around, teasing your body, enjoying your ruined look, knowing that you're his his his. Even if sometimes he wants to be the one ruined by you.

He reeeeeally doesn't want to admit to himself how much he actually wants it.

However. However. The key prase here is "would be able to be a proper dom" 

Is it possible? Yeah. Would this ever happen? No lol. 

The moment he tries to pull something like this he finds himself pressed to a wall with you blocking his way with your leg.

"Don't tell me you thought you were in charge, pretty boy" you say with a chuckle and he goes weak in his knees.

Tries to say something cheeky in return but he was never good at hiding something from you. You can literally see him being a mess.

It would probably be easier fir him if you would use your hand to block his way. He'd tease you and call you bossy, pulling you for a kiss. But with your leg??? It catches him off guard so much that, to his own embarrassment, he can't even find a comeback.

And the way he looks???

Slightly flushed cheeks, irregular breath, him suddenly clinging to you without even realizing it. Absolutely beautiful.

It's still not easy for him to be in a vulnerable position like that but he just can't help, the temptation of feeling  yours yours yours is just too overwhelming.

Would act ten times more bratty after that just to push your buttons and make you put him on his place again.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Mating seasons with the boys 😈

Mating Season (18+)

2003!Turtles x reader

A/N: It wasn’t specified what version of the turtles, so the lucky wheel decided on the 03 boys💚 I have this idea that the 2003 boys are Yellow-bellied sliders (mainly from their appearance, green shells and yellowish plastrons with no markings). I don’t focus a lot on nesting, as male turtles don't partake in the creation of nests, so I had a hard time writing it and therefore decided to skip it.

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Talk of masturbation, sex and all that.

Important For All:

Yellow-bellied sliders usually go into mating during the months from March to July, and the mutant did not make the guys immune to that. The boys quickly found out that their season usually lasts for around a week, often around the month of April. Normally they would all go into their season around the same time, hiding out in their rooms, not wishing to be “interrupted”, nor embarrassed by what they were doing.

However, it has happened that the brothers have entered their seasons at different times, and at different lengths. It has occurred before that they have entered their seasons at different months from each other, with poor Donatello suffering throughout all of May that year, while Michelangelo was lucky with five days during March, all while Leonardo forced himself through two horrible weeks in April, and Raphael powered through a hard week in June.

Each year, they could never really be sure when their season would fall. They would just sort of feel it come up a few days before, and would scramble around to prepare themselves, making them anxious and nervous. For that reason it wasn’t hard for outsiders to understand what was going on. Splinter, being the observant father that he was, would notice and know exactly what was going on, letting them skip training until their season was over.

Leonardo:

Leo had never been a big fan of his mating season. Before he got a partner, he found that it got in his way, clouding his mind and making it hard for him to focus. He often tried to push it away, acting like it wasn’t there, hoping that it would let him gain back control in some way. But he found that everytime he did so, it only came right back around, hitting him even harder than before, causing him to bite down on his blanket in order to stay silent while he mounted his pillow in the middle of the night, praying that no one would walk in on him.

With the exception of that one time where Donnie was stuck in his room for a whole month, Leo was typically the one with the longest seasons, most likely a by-product of him trying to push his animalistic desires away, not wanting to give into something  he did not decide for himself. But then he met you.

Leo’s first season after meeting you, was much shorter than his seasons usually were. That week, he just couldn’t keep his hands away from himself, for the first time not pushing his natural instincts away. By finally not holding back and letting his animalistic instincts kick in, he found that his mating season became much more pleasurable and easier to get through. Even if it meant ruining a good pillow…

When you and Leo finally got together, he finally learned how great his mating season actually could be. It took some time before he was comfortable sharing this time with you, but when he finally did, he wished he would have done it sooner. Finally he was able to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration in a way that felt satisfying, bringing pleasure to both him and you. And it was during these times with you, that he for the first time wished that his season would continue on for another week, just so he could keep this experience going with you.

Raphael:

Raph had a love-hate relationship with his mating season. He loved how he could get a whole week, where he could pleasure himself and feel good. Raph did and still loves taking care of himself and his body - he eats pretty healthy and works out quite a lot, and he looooves making his own body feel good. However, he hates how it’s never enough for him. He could fuck his hand or fleshlight for hours, feeling the amazing high rush over him, only to feel the need to do it all over again. It was almost enough to drive him mad, causing his mood to get rather dark very quickly, causing his sessions to turn into angry sessions very easily.

But when Raph first started crushing on you, he absolutely HATED his mating season. He felt like a crazy cave man in his room, fucking whatever he could get a hold on with the thought of you in his mind. Raph did not like what this time did to him. He found himself tempted to steal things from you, just in order to have your scent around him. He felt sneaky, like he was tricking you. In the few days he could feel his season come up, he would ask you to spend time with him in is room, so he wouldn’t miss you as much during the week he wouldn’t see you, only to fuck himself sensless in the places you had been.

His lucky break and mental relaxation came when you started dating, and it didn’t take long before Raph asked if you wanted to join him for the week. Although you didn’t spend the season with him the first year you were together, the second year you definitely were, and finally, Raph came to a point where fully enjoyed his season. Letting go and letting his instinct flow, making him feel whole during this time with you. It was almost surprising, maybe even scary how intimate it was to do this. It was a depth none of you had felt before. It was a bonding experience, and Raph would forever be grateful that you agreed to do this with him, finally letting him have a season where he didn’t feel like a crazy, angry mad man, but someone that was truly in love.

Donatello:

Donnie liked to think that he was too smart for his mating season. That his intellect took up a bigger part of his brain than any of his animalistic urges ever did. But in all honesty, Donnie knew that his mating season had nothing to do with that. He could fight it as much as he wanted, but in the end, he was still a mutant turtle that had to go through his mating season. But with his second longest mating seasons of all the brothers, it was evident that he did not fully embrace it. There was that one year that he decided to fully deny his mating season, ignoring it, thinking it would disappear after a week or so. But in the end, Donnie ended up with a whole month of constant boners, wet dreams, ruined bedsheets and almost painful orgasms at the end of the month. Never again would he try to ignore his natural urges, nor try to fool himself into thinking that he was “too good” for them.

When you entered the turtles’ lives, and Donnie first started gaining a crush on you, he almost felt ashamed for his season. The fact that he would hide out in his room and think of you while he touched himself made him feel awful. What kind of horrible friend was he, in order for him to think about you like that? Horrible enough in Donnie’s own mind, that he did nor gain much pleasure from his sessions alone, but a lingering feeling of shame and longing.

But the world decided to smile down upon Donnie, giving him the opportunity to start dating you. And boy, did he jump at that opportunity. It made him feel less self continuous when he touched himself to the thought of you. It took some time before Donnie let you spend his season with him in the lair, but that did not stop you from sending him pictures or even calling him, letting him know that it was okay, and that you did indeed want to spend that time with him. And then, finally, he let you come down to the lair for the kinkiest sex you had had in a long time.

Michelangelo:

Mikey might actually be the only one of his brothers that sort of looked forward to his mating season. A week or two where he could do nothing but jerk off in the comfort of his bunk bed in his bedroom, no training and only getting up to eat? Oh, don’t mind if I do, as Mikey liked to say as he skipped off to his room, at the first signs of his season coming up. He liked to have fun with it, trying different things, and at times even sneak out of his room to help himself out in other places, just for the giggle. But sadly for Mikey, he was the one with the shortest seasons on average, rarely giving him enough time to enjoy himself before it was time to go back to training alone with his brothers. That’s at least how it was before he met you.

After Mikey met you and developed a crush on you, his mating season took a whole new turn. It was no longer just fun and enjoyable with a bunch of self pleasure, but almost painful. Like he hadn’t eaten in days, and no matter how hard he tried to feed himself, nothing worked. All he could think about was you, and how he wasn’t buried inside of you at that very moment. His seasons became longer during this period, and he did not like it one bit, wishing back to the days where his own hand was enough to satisfy him. He no longer ventured out of his room to have fun, but stayed in his bunk bed, wishing and dreaming that the pillow he was plowing into was you, moaning his name and begging him to keep going.

With you and Mikey then getting together later on, Mikey wasted no time asking you to spend his season with him, and help him out with his undesirable painful hunger. You happily agreed, and once again Mikey found his season to be fun and enjoyable. He once again started to have fun with it, trying all sorts of positions with you, going so far as to fuck you different places around the lair, making this time of year a very anticipated one for the two of you.