#imagine - if you will - being held hostage by a sex scene :') | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

donutloverxo · 5 years ago

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New Beginnings

Authors note- I promised you filth now I’m gonna deliver😈. Can be read as a sequel to white horse or a stand alone.

I’m sorry for subjecting y'all to this

Please like, comment and reblog 💕

Please do not steal steal or repost my content.

Summary- You and Steve are ready to take the next step in your relationship.

Warnings- smut, loss of virginity, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of sex toys, dub con(if you squint impossibly hard)

Word count- 2.5k (scroll to the middle if you wanna skip to smut)

masterlist

It had been over two weeks since the incident at the club. You were still traumatised from it. You felt a bit guilty about it, Steve and your other friends had been through so much worse their entire lives but you barely ever see them complaining about it.

And really it wasn’t even that bad. You didn’t have a single scratch from it, you had no right to feel so scared. You weren’t some dainty precious coward princess.

You woke up heaving and gasping for breathe. It was the same nightmare third night in a row. This time you were being held hostage in a bank robbery. It was always some variation of what had happened at the club. You looked at the time on your phone. It was 2 am.

Steve was in London. He’d be awake right now. He had been extremely patient with you. He insisted he didn’t have to go on the mission, he wanted to take care of you. But you didn’t want to take advantage of his caring nature insisted he go and you’d call him if anything goes wrong.

You stared at his contact in your phone contemplating the idea. You didn’t want him to worry, but at the same time you would hope he shared his troubling thoughts with you. You can’t expect him to be completely vulnerable with you without doing the same yourself.

Finally you sighed and called him. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey doll.”

“Hey Stevie”, you smiled staring out your window from your bed. Really it was ridiculous how just hearing his voice made you feel calm and safe.

“How come you aren’t asleep?”, he asked and you could hear some shuffling in his background. Maybe he sneaked away from his teammates.

“I… I had a nightmare sort of.” You said playing with the strings on your sweatpants. “it’s really nothing. I mean you’re out there saving the world and I’m still stuck on something that happened weeks ago.”

He breathed your name almost as a way to scold you. “Don’t say that. You’re allowed to be scared. It’s completely normal”, you hummed to that and closed your eyes. His steady breathing making your sleepy. “actually I have to talk to you about that. I was going to wait till I got home and ask you over dinner.”

You moaned forcing your eyes open “what?”

“Well Nat and Sam are moving in the tower. I had an apartment there a while ago but then… It wasn’t for me. It has one of the best security systems in the world. You’ll be completely safe there”, he said and hesitated “maybe we could move in there. Together?”

You were wide awake now. Living in the tower would be amazing since it’s closer to work but living with Steve? Waking up next to him every morning, snuggling him every chance you get. That really sounds like a dream.

“Yes”, you blurt out.

“Really? You don’t want time to think about it?”, he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No. I think it’s an amazing idea.”

“Well then I can’t wait”

“Me neither”, you replied and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.

Over the next month you left your studio apartment and moved your things to the much larger penthouse. It was quiet high up. You would have to get used to the height.

You asked your doctor to start you on the pill. Tony Stark had offered you a position to work as a tech in the Avengers tower. It was your dream job. You had no intentions to get pregnant right now. But the idea of having kids with the super soldier wasn’t completely repulsive… One thing at a time!

Regardless of you taking the pill or not. You wouldn’t get pregnant because despite dating for over four months you and Steve hadn’t had sex. Was that weird? You were living and planning your future with a man you hadn’t slept with?

You had some steamy make out sessions when you’d grab his hand and make him grope you. When you felt his erection poking your thighs through his pants. That excited you and scared you at the same time. He felt so big. You were excited to see what he looked like but would it actually go in? That was a silly thought really.

He had confessed to you that he was a virgin and he was just looking for the right partner. You had some experience in the field but the fact that he didn’t put some pressure on you. What if he found you lacking in some way? You weren’t the most beautiful woman in the world.

Besides sex wasn’t your best friend. Although you liked the idea of it, it was kind of overrated. You had done it too soon in your previous relationships, and you were the kind of person that learns from her mistakes.

You were snuggling with Steve watching Netflix when a steamy scene came on. It wasn’t too graphic but extremely aesthetically pleasing. You felt Steve shift his hips under you.

“You know, I went to the doctor today. She started me on the pill.” You had to be brave. Just how long were you going to wait. After a couple of glasses of wine you had some liquid courage in you.

He hummed as a way to acknowledge you. “Maybe we should go to the bedroom.”

You smiled to yourself and switched off the tv.

Steve looked at you lighting some scented candles in the bedroom. ‘To set the mood’ apparently. He felt his whole life flash before his eyes.

How as a small sickly boy he felt vaguely jealous of his best friend Bucky. He never looked good enough standing next to him. He never really looked good anyway. If girls did talk to him it was because of Bucky.

He now cringed whenever he thought of those double dates. Where his date looked like she’d be anywhere in the world but with him. While Bucky’s date looked at him as if he was her world.

After the serum he was able to get the kind of body women fawned after. He had many women throw themselves at him. But there was no way to tell if it was genuine. If they saw him, the poor sick kid from Brooklyn, or if they saw the fame and glory of Captain America.

But then he met you. The first time you looked at him, really looked at him, he felt as if he was being truly seen for the first time in his life. You didn’t care so much about Captain America or the serum, you cared about him, listened to him and saw him.

It was as if part of him was missing for so long, that he found in you. He didn’t know how he ever lived without you. Now he would gladly give up the shield and everything that came with it to be with you.

He looked at you staring expectedly at him, kneeling in the middle of the bed.

He had little to no knowledge about sex or women in general.

He remembered how sneaked a peak at Bucky and a girl out of curiosity. He saw Bucky’s head between the girls legs. He ran away before he could see anymore.

When he asked Bucky what it was like he’d give him advice on how to please a woman, as if he was ever going to use it, until now.

‘Just remember to get her off at least once before you, tis only fair’

He swallowed when he looked at your figure. It definitely was extremely hard to wait to be with you for so long. He had thought and dreamed of this moment since he met you.

He recalled all the times he got embarrassingly hard at the slightest tough from you. He hoped and prayed that you hadn’t noticed, or maybe you did notice and liked it, why else would you be here?

All he’d ever done was made out with a few women. And there was that time Tony gifted him a rubber toy that resembled a woman’s bits as a crude and mean joke. He would never admit it but he did use it once before throwing it away. It was good…he couldn’t imagine how much better a real woman would feel, how much better you would feel.

You got tired of waiting and him staring at you with a blank face and crawled to him to the edge of the bed. You cradled his face in your hands and stared into his sea green orbs. You placed a kiss on his slightly cold soft lips. You felt his hands reach and squeeze your hips.

His hands roamed all over your body greedily taking in everything. He manoeuvred you till your head hit the pillow. He took off his shirt exposing his burly physique to you. You sat up and touched his pecs, your fingers gliding down tracing his abs.

You took off your nightgown and tossed it away. You watched him stare at you in awe. His hands shakily touched them and fondled them. He grazed your nipples under his thumb. They grew harder with his touch. He curiously squeezed them between his thumb and finger. He looked up at your face when he heard to gasp. His was growing harder and more impatient by the second.

He pushed you down on the bed. He kissed down your body, between your breath, then finally to your mould covered by your panties. He slid your panties off your legs. You awkwardly closed your legs shut. He sensed your discomfort and took off his pants and boxers.

Before you could see him he pushed your legs open and knelt down. He was awestruck looking at your pussy. Your juices glistening in the lowlight made his mouth water.

“Wait”, you exclaimed “no one… no ones ever” you babbled shaking your head.

He pushed you down. The fact that he can do anything to you, manhandle you however he likes, evoked something primal in him. He stuck his tongue out and tentatively to lick a stripe up your lips. You gasped and clasped onto his head.

He licked a few stripes as you thrashed and squirmed on the bed. You were making his job harder for him. He put his palm on your stomach to hold you still. He sucked your nub and you moaned. He went back and forth between sucking your nub harshly and licking fast quick strips.

You pushed his head in your pussy and latched onto it with both your hands as you came. You felt breathless and weightless, as if you were floating on a cloud.

He lapped at you before moving to kiss you. He got worried when he saw tears in your eyes. He wiped them with his thumb. “Hey what’s wrong?”, he had gotten too excited and lost himself in the moment.

This was completely new territory to you. You had never felt this before. None of your ex boyfriends had ever went down on you or made you come. That was such a mind blowing orgasm. You wondered if you had actually had a real orgasm before.

“I’m perfectly fine.”, you said and gave him a hazy smile. “it’s your turn now.”

You pushed him up by his pecs and sat up on your knees in front of him. You looked down and saw his cock hard and up against his stomach. It was the biggest and prettiest you had ever seen.

You grabbed it with both your hand and gave it a few strokes and pulls. “It’s so big”, you cooed.

He was extremely thankful to the serum in that moment. The way you looked at it and tugged at it, as if it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and your compliment stroked his ego.

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and still struggled to fit him in it. You sucked at his tip and stroked the parts you couldn’t reach, which was more than half of it.

He bunched up your hair in his hand and groaned, trying to hold on from cuming in your mouth. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to get hard again, what with you sitting right there naked as the day you were born, but he had other ideas.

He pushed your head away and tried to hold on by taking a few breathes. He bent down to kiss you, tasting himself on his mouth. You moaned in his mouth.

He broke the kiss to see you touching yourself. He wondered if you had been touching yourself with him in your mouth. Were you so desperate for him?

You slid two fingers in your pussy and smiled at his furrowed brows looking almost hypnotised by your pussy. “I’m afraid you won’t fit”, you giggled still on a high from your previous orgasm. “wanna taste?”, you asked and brought your fingers near his mouth.

He opened his mouth and sucked harshly on your fingers. Savoring your taste.

You climbed onto his lap staring into his eyes. You stroked his cock and lined him up to your pussy.

“I love you”, he said and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You bent down slowly and took him inch by inch in your pussy. “I love you too”, you moaned.

Having you around him, being inside you surrounded by your heat, felt as close to heaven as he would ever get. You were tight and snug and perfect. More perfect than he ever could’ve imagined or dreamed.

You bounced on his cock increasing the pace slowly and steadily. You kissed his shoulder then sucked on his earlobe.

You adjusted your hips to rub your clit on his pelvis with his cock hitting your g-stop you were on your way to your second orgasm. “Oh I’m gonna cum”, you breathed out in his ear.

“Do it, use me, cum on me”

You faltered and stopped gushing down his cock and screaming.

He laid you on the bed and started thrusting into you. You were still breathless and delirious from your orgasm.

He was always fascinated by how small and petite you were. With you under him and him draped over you, looking down at your face, he was sure that all you could see and feel was him.

He grabbed your hips and pushed harder into you. He was sure to leave bruises. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. It would be a reminder, for you, that you belong to him and him alone.

“Come on doll one more”, he was determined to bring you off one more time.

You moaned at him and wrapped yourself around him. You screamed and felt the knot in your belly release.

He hips stuttered, you felt him come inside you, his warm cum coating your walls.

He pulled out of you and laid down beside you trying to catch his breathe. You snuggled into his side and closed your eyes.

Maybe being here with you was a way the universe was paying him back for all the years he’d lost.

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years ago

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What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 16

Wordcount: 4, 869 Rating: M for strong language, moderate sexual references, violence, and gore The reader is referred to as she/her. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve. Why else did he make you?" Chapter synopsis: And you never considered yourself trigger-happy. But the shots have been fired. They're dead before you can interrogate them. Allen is eager to convince you it was the right thing to do, but even he can't deny the horrors that will follow. The war rages on. Alfred stays ignorant for the meantime, and you revel in his bliss of it. You share one last peaceful night with him before the fearful unknown.

16 - Nothing breaks like a heart

The reader is referred to as she/her.

An ear-splitting bang echoed in the pool room. Blood and small chunks of flesh landed on the tiled floor in a splat. Tearing his hand away with a shaky gasp, he held the wrist and hunched over to writhe in agony. "Ergh... Fuck!" He spluttered, feeling a violent tremble seize his wounded hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He lifted his head to glare at you with the utmost betrayal. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

A sizely hole formed in his palm. The exposed flesh was still oozing out blood like a full sponge, dripping onto the ground in generous puddles. A whole section of his bone was missing. And you did it. You shot Alfred. You paled in horror for a few moments, but as he panted before you with tears streaming down his red and enflamed face, it became apparent that your guilt was unfounded.

"What I did that for? You aren't Alfred!" You exasperated, raising the gun shakily to point it between his fearful eyes. "You're a clone!"

A sour flavor was left in your mouth as you spat out the word. His origins were no mystery.

Nobody else could have been responsible or capable of such a heinous crime. To grow an abomination from whatever DNA was left in their lab. You only imagined them to be created for one purpose, and one purpose only. To torment, kill, and replace Alfred. As the thoughts raced through your head, you tightened your finger around the trigger—"Wait, wait! Don't shoot!" He begged, throwing his arms up.

"I know you're freaking out right now, but I have no idea what's going on either!"

Gritting your teeth at his excuse, you were determined to not let it get to you. But it was easier said than done. "Shut up! Don't think for a second you can fool me!" Despite the cutting conviction of your voice, you took on a terrified expression at the thought of shooting him. "I'm gonna do it. You're nothing but a freak of nature! And you'll never... Never..."

As you trailed off, you realized you indeed couldn't pull the trigger.

Not when the barrel was aimed at a face that looked just like Alfred's.

It was contorted with so much fear and despair, pleading silently for you to not hurt him. The fact that he was a spitting image of him made it even harder. How he moved, talked, acted—seeing it chipped away your resolve, leaving you all but paralyzed. The gun was left juddering furiously in your hands in light clacks, holding him hostage at the moment before death.

"Please. Please don't do it." He whispered, bringing his hands down to shield himself. "You gotta help me, (F/N). I don't know how, but I woke up in this body. That's... That's all that happened."

How painfully familiar it sounded.

I woke up in this body.

The similarities were so uncanny, it was cruel. Giving your head a quick shake, your lips quivered as you uttered this.

"You're lying. You're not real."

Creases formed between his brows. "I'm not lying! And I am real! I'll prove it to you, I swear! We went through so much shit together, like uh—" He pointed at you and laughed nervously as he sifted through the scanty archives of his memories. "—I kidnapped you. Ha! See? I know something! That's how we met! And you hated my guts at first."

You swallowed thickly as uncertainty slowly overwhelmed you. If he could remember that, he had to be real, right? No. You had to fend off the feeling. "That's not good enough!" Your finger stayed on the trigger, and the barrel, on him.

He tensed up as panic caught him in a chokehold. "Okay, okay! Well, er..." His heart was pounding harder and harder with every second he failed to say something. "... Oh! Remember the time I nearly got murdered by a cult leader? He had a whole kabuki mask get-up and everything—just like, like Professor Callaghan from Big Hero 6. You know that movie right?"

You sucked in a sharp breath. The title didn't ring any bells, but what he said had you second-guessing yourself. Was he not lying after all? Lowering the gun at that, your motion was slowed by slight hesitance. "... How... How do you know those things?" You asked faintly. "What are you?"

Before he could formulate an answer, footsteps thudded down the hall. Your thoughts came to a complete standstill.

Then, you heard a voice.

"(F/N)!" They shouted. Was it Allen? Your heart sank when you realized you couldn’t tell—it sounded too similar to Alfred. Or were you just imagining things? The sheer amount of panic was too incapacitating that you couldn't think.

So you did the unthinkable.

Raising the gun once more, you fired a shot into his abdomen.

The second you let the bullet fly, you regretted it.

Both your ears rang as the next few moments occurred in silence. And they would unfold in painstakingly slow motion. Dropping the gun to the ground in a soundless clatter, you watched him stumble back a few steps with his eyes popping out of his skull. Blood was spreading around the flaps of his kimono from a new hole in his chest. But the gore couldn't compare to his look of betrayal.

Of a heartbreak so deep, it destroyed you.

"Oh my God..." You raised both hands to your mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap. "I just—I just killed—" Tears streamed relentlessly down to your chin as you stood frozen.

"(F/N)! I heard gunshots. What the fuck happened?!" Allen appeared in the doorway. His loud voice derailed your train of thoughts, forcing you to turn to the man. When you did, your heart clenched at the realization you made a mistake. It wasn't him. Alfred was never down the hall, and you panicked.

He never even had a chance to explain himself.

When Allen caught sight of the corpse by your feet, he dug his hands through his hair. Terror ran deep in his expression as he processed what he was seeing. "Shit, (F/N)." His nose scrunched up in shock. Never did he imagine the day would come where you would take someone's life. At least, not so soon.

But it arrived as an unwelcome surprise, unexpected and uninvited. "Did you kill that guy?"

You nodded profusely as a sob racked your body.

He scrambled over and shielded you from the grotesque scene. "Hey, hey, hey! Don’t feel bad! I’ve killed loads of people too, so welcome to the club!" The man rambled frantically, rubbing away your tears with his fingers. But who was he to tell you these things when he felt his own tears come?

"I’m sure he deserved it, and you were just protecting yourself, so don’t worry!" Allen forced a wide, manic smile.

His efforts to console you were in vain as you cried even harder. Pulling you into his chest, he rested his chin on your head that trembled to your coughs. "I'm so sorry..." Allen screwed his eyes shut and squeezed you tighter. "... I’m sorry I left you by yourself. This is my fault, not yours. It's my fault."

The string of apologies he spewed out was on your behalf, but he meant them with every fiber of his being. He had failed to protect the single most valuable thing to him.

And the blatant lie he forced you to accept was the last resort to preserve it. But it was time that stopped. "No, I killed him." You asserted shakily. He had nothing to do with this, and his eagerness to shoulder the blame only rubbed more salt into the wound. If you let him have his way, you would never live it down.

Without removing yourself from the hug, you pointed at the motionless body with your head turned away. "Look at him. I could never lie."

Allen lingered his gaze on you before obliging, albeit reluctantly. Nearing the corpse cautiously, he kicked its chest to roll it over. It revealed the dead man’s face in all its glory. Alfred’s face.

"..."

What the fuck.

When he thought he couldn’t be any more disgusted by the tyranny of technology, he was proved wrong yet again. This was clearly your father’s doing. And it was a declaration of war. But perhaps, it was just the continuation of the one that never ended.

Arthur was completely shit-faced downstairs. Slamming his beer mug down on the counter after he downed the whole thing, he gasped.

"Bwah! That hits the spot." His cheeks and ears were redder than a tomato, a stark contrast to his companion who was stone-cold sober.

Alfred raised a brow. "Sure looks like it. Dude, you gotta lay off the booze. You’re gonna regret it first thing tomorrow." Once he sighed that out, he rested his cheek on his hand. Then, he glowered at the hallway where you and Allen disappeared to.

"How long does it take to piss? They’ve been gone for ages. Twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? I don’t fucking know," The mechanic let out a low chuckle and slapped him on the back. The force made his torso bounce, much to his annoyance. "What’s your deal?"

The other hummed mischievously. "I was just thinking about what you said." Arthur squinted almost suggestively, causing Alfred to do the same, but only out of being appalled. "Maybe... Maybe they aren’t pissing. Since they’re gone for so long at the bathrooms at that—so maybe, urgh... They’re doing the nasty together." The Brit practically howled with laughter, having figured he was probably right.

It was a plausible assumption. As he humored the suggestion Alfred heated up more severely than his intoxicated friend. You having sex with Allen? His chest whirred and nostrils flared. He'd never been this enraged before, but behind the mask of anger was a deep hurt and toxic kind of jealousy.

"Shut up! You’re drunk and slurring your words. You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Arthur snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, brother. But the only time I’m this honest is when I’m drunk, so."

Alfred’s eyes went round. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot out of his stool and made a beeline to the hall. Before he could make it far, he bumped right into the very subjects of his conversation. Much to his relief, they were in no state that indicated they did anything sexual by nature; you were in his arms and fast asleep. Not that he was happy about it. "Woah. She's out like a light."

"Yeah, so keep your voice down." The other grumbled, bouncing you lightly. "I think it's about time we head home. How drunk is he?"

The blonde blinked. He wasn't expecting him to catch on so quickly. "Off his ass. He's red as."

Allen clicked his tongue and brushed past him. "Called it." Alfred would have dismissed it as something he always did. But since he was carrying you, it made him feel like an extra. So when the man walked off, he followed with a scowl. "Can you get a cab? I'm gonna sit in the corner for a bit."

And sit in the corner he did, laying your body across his lap so you could rest. Alfred narrowed his eyes into a dark glare, lingering on the sight as the club music pounded away in his ears. And he told him to keep his voice down? "Yeah, I'll call you a damn cab."

You pretended to be asleep the whole ride back to Arthur's. It was easy with Allen's shoulder at a perfect height for your face to bury in. For half an hour, you were stuck in that position. There, you listened to the symphony of a trip home from the club: the automated voice of the taxi A.I and the drunken warbles of an intoxicated friend. Without seeing it, you could feel Alfred watching you for the whole duration of the ordeal.

Fortunately, you could escape any interaction with him as Allen carried you to the bathroom upon arriving.

"Oi, where are you taking her?"

The redhead kicked the door open. "What does it look like?"

"Shouldn't you wake her up, at least?"

"Yeah, yeah. Quit breathing down my neck, already."

"Dude—"

The door locked. Setting you down on your feet, you held onto his arms to regain your balance. Once you did, you glanced up at him with the utmost panic. "I can't face him." Digging two hands through your hair, you let out a shaky gasp—"Oh my god, I don't know what to do! I shot him, Allen. I fucking shot him! What's he gonna think of me when he finds out?"

He sighed and gripped your shoulders firmly. With his brows furrowed in a stern expression, he corrected you. "You didn't shoot him. You shot another version of him." Allen couldn't stress that enough. But there were many things he needed to shed a light on in this emergency bathroom meeting. "And it was kinda my fault that happened. If I was there, I woulda' shot him for you."

"That's not the point, here! And it's never gonna be your fault. It's mine, and mine alone. End of story." You swiped a hand across his face for emphasis. While he groaned in dismay, a brief pause followed as you regained your breath.

At least an hour had passed, but you still couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I can't believe I did that. I don't even know how I could! I panicked. I thought Alfred was coming down the hall, but—"

"—but it was me. Doll-" Allen exasperated, dragging out the pet name. "-you can't blame yourself for what you did. Shit happens. And who says what you did was wrong, huh? You probably just saved us all from a bloodbath. And you know that!" Rocking you gently back and forth to shake some sense into you, he leaned in to peer into your wide eyes staring into space.

"That's why you shot him. You did the right thing."

As he blurted that out, the memory replayed in your head again and again like a broken record. Intrusive thoughts were a bitch. And there was one particular detail of the event that you would never forget. "Was it the right thing to do, though?" You murmured, lowering your doubtful gaze to the tiled floor. The betrayal in his eyes was so genuine, you came to regret everything you've done.

"What if he was real like he said?"

You were asking some hard-hitting questions, that was for sure. Everything else was shrouded in a fog of uncertainty.

"Well, it wouldn't matter if he was real. Cuz' he's dead."

Allen's expression morphed into a dark glower.

"But if he was still alive, there'd be two of him, and not for long. They'd kill each other, for sure. I mean, if I found out there was a second-rate version of me farting around out there, I'd kill that poser for sport. Hunt him down like game." Lifting up your chin so you'd look at him, he flashed a grin.

"So don't feel bad. You killed him and saved Alfred the trouble."

Softening your gaze at that, you pulled him into another hug. Allen was always amazing at comforting you in the direst of situations.

"... Maybe you're right."

He chuckled and patted your back. "I'm always right."

But there was still one concern he could never address.

If your father made a clone of Alfred, a real and legitimate copy, there was no saying he could make another. Hell, you even expected him to. He could keep churning him out so long as he had his DNA. The only way to end this threat was quick to cross your mind, but you didn't want to think about it.

You would have to kill your father.

Allen figured. But today suffered enough bloodshed.

Before he left the bathroom for you to use, he held onto your cheek.

Flickering his striking scarlet eyes over your troubled expression, he caught you in a quiet gaze. You could easily translate the untold fondness he watched you with. We can still run away together.

He pulled away slowly, reluctantly. Then, the door closed behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It never crossed your mind the first time he brought it up earlier tonight, but you finally understood what he really meant by running away. Allen wanted to share his life with you. Heat flurried in your chest as you considered the idea.

Tears threatened to return once you realized how much you wanted to do it, just not with him. The desire was there, but it happened to be stronger for someone else.

Alfred had been waiting outside with his back against the wall, arms crossed with a frown. It only deepened when Allen walked out.

"What're you lookin' at?" The redhead mumbled.

"... Nothing. Just wondering why you two spend so much time in the bathroom together." Alfred pointed out, glancing down at the cigarette between his fingers. He would have been jumping for joy if it weren't for wanting to look serious. "What were you doing with her in the penthouse?"

The other felt a spell of irritation hit him. It was always jealousy with this one, wasn't it? But he couldn't be a hypocrite. "None a'ya business, bub." He hummed, slotting the cancer stick in between his teeth. A sly smirk widened his lips as he saw the blonde tense up. "You saw how tired she was. So don't even think about it."

Don't even think about it, he'd said. How come everything coming out of his mouth sounded like a euphemism for sex? Don't keep her up with stupid conversations would've sounded better. Alfred huffed and stormed back to the guest room. Or was it just his mind that was in the gutter? He blamed Arthur for even bringing it up.

Hanging his clothes on a chair, he curled up under the covers. His chest was whirring again, and the discomfort was akin to something you've gone through before. Separation anxiety. When you did show up ten minutes later, he rolled over to the door to watch your form. Hearing the fabric shuffle in your direction made your heart skip in panic.

He was awake.

"Arthur's puking his guts out, so if you hear coughing, it's him."

Hopefully, some light-hearted banter could keep you from acting up. But that was easier said than done.

The blanket lifted briefly so you could get under it. Once you got comfortable, he didn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist to spoon you. Ever since he saw you sleep in the club, and on Allen no less, he'd been dying to do this. "... I tried telling him." He murmured into your ear. "But I've slept through worse. You flop and roll a lot."

The feeling of his breath on your neck and the sound of his husky voice made your heart ache. Every night was spent like this, warm and snug in his arms, but tonight was different. Inside, you were still agonizing over what you had done to him, even if it wasn't exactly him. So to feel his chest rise against your back, then his legs rub against yours, you just couldn't take it—it was all too much.

Rolling over to him, you caught his neck in your arms and pulled it down for a tight squeeze. What you uttered next captured your deepest and most inexplicable desire. To truly be alone with him.

"I can't take it here anymore." You muttered furiously, hugging him around his neck to start crushing him.

He let out a shaky breath at the sudden pressure.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?"

"I can't calm down. I need to talk to you. Alone." Sitting up at that, you pulled him along. It came especially easy as he stood up, eager to understand your spontaneity. "And in someplace that's not here. There's just... Too many people. Four is too many."

Alfred lit up, but his growing smile did his emotions no justice. He was ecstatic. Things were always simpler when it was just the two of you. Maybe you were finally getting sick of these cramped living conditions, the scrutiny. At least, he knew he was. So it was almost as if you read his mind. "Okaay. Are we going on a midnight adventure?" He piped.

But then again, you always seemed to be walking on the same wavelength as him.

He followed you around the room like a puppy as you collected some things—your jacket, then Alfred's phone to shoot Allen a text. We're off to the nearest no-tell motel to talk. We'll be back in the morning. Setting the device onto the desk, you threw him his belongings. His gun and trusty coil of tools. Catching them wordlessly, he shot you a quizzical look. "Well, aren't you mysterious? Where are we going?"

Little did he know, your decision to leave the house for the night had only so much to do with random selfish impulses. From the outside, it looked exactly like that. Up and going without a care in the world, without care for Allen, and becoming unreachable for the next several hours. But after what happened, you just needed time to recalibrate.

"Where we always used to go." You threw your jacket on. Dragging him out into the hall, he caught a brief glimpse of Arthur passed out over the toilet before he found himself in the garage.

Handing him his key, you opened the car door next to the driver's seat. "We have to be quick before Allen tries to stop us."

The said man was sitting on the roof when he heard the rumbling of the garage door. Immediately after the sound stopped, a car sped out of it with an aggressive vroom and disappeared into the night. Narrowing his eyes at the rear window, he stood up and tossed his cigarette over the edge. Where the hell were you going this late at night? And with Alfred, no less?

He could feel hot jealousy prick him all over again. But it was warped with a harrowing kind of sadness. No matter what he did or what he said, he couldn't seem to get in between you two. Allen sat back down and lit up another cigarette. Giving that a few puffs, he surrounded his head in a cloud of grey smoke. Maybe he did know you for too long.

For eight years, he'd been a brotherly figure in your life. Now, he was afraid that was all he was ever going to be.

~~~

Parking the car in the courtyard after the most thrilling joyride, you pulled Alfred into the reception to book a room. Given his inhumane strength, your efforts to drag him down the hall were to no avail. Peering down at you with a warm smile, his face contorted with an amused look as you tugged at his arm as hard as you could. "Easy there, tiger. This is a motel, not a five-star hotel."

Between two walls littered with cracks was a dimly lit interior. Everything smelt like vomit, piss, and alcohol to boot, and yet, you were bounding beside him in excitement. "I know! But doesn't this feel nostalgic? We lived in these places for ages." You exasperated, scanning a keycard to unlock the door.

Alfred didn't think he was a sentimental person, but hearing you reminisce the past so fondly was enough to change his smile into a bittersweet one. "I guess." He couldn’t remember everything like you, but for now, he could pretend he did. "Motels are economic and discrete, so where was a better place to go?"

Once you both got inside, he felt your hand let go of his. For a moment, he felt just the smallest dash of loneliness—it was the emptiness of not feeling you somewhere where you should have been. Fortunately, it faded when you gleamed at him while you explored the room with child-like curiosity.

"I think I did a pretty good job at converting you." Alfred mused.

You flopped onto the bed to lie on your back. "Converting me to what?"

The mattress dipped to your right, so you rolled over to face him. "To a commoner. Or maybe something lower than that." He grinned devilishly. And for that comment, he would earn a strong shove on his chest. Despite nearly falling off the edge, he merely scooted back in. "I've never seen someone this happy staying in a dump like this."

"Don't give yourself too much credit. I just miss it." Pausing briefly at that, a small smile spread to your lips when you saw his, wide and as endearing as ever. If there was one thing you wanted to see before you died, it was this. Alfred's warm smile. As you lingered on the thought, you realized you were completely smitten with him.

But most importantly, at peace.

This was exactly why you even dragged him here in the first place. For some quality alone time, backtracking, and a good, long talk without interruptions. "I'd know all about dumps." You murmured, reaching out to play with a lock of his sandy blonde hair. "Zao and I tend to find our best friends in them."

He chuckled airily. "Is this me?"

"... Well, sure. But I was talking about Allen."

Things got dark pretty fast.

You both laughed it off. He didn't have great memories of motels, but laying here with you reminded him of what you said about them. A lot of good things happened in these tiny rooms, apparently. And they were what you two talked about until three AM in the morning, standing together out on the balcony. From here, the heart of the city could be seen, from the aerial roads of spinners in the distance to the endless hills of skyscrapers and blinking lights.

"I was thinking," Alfred murmured quietly, turning his head to you. The right side of his face reflected the glow of the city. But it couldn't quite compare to the hope that lit up his eyes, as subtle as it was. "Is everything finally over?"

You turned to him, gaze softened. For just tonight, you would let him bask in his ignorance. And yourself, in his hold. "Not yet." You whispered. The feeling of his hand on your waist was a feeling you could get used to. Reaching out to his other one on the railing, you guided it to your side so he could hold you properly.

Alfred squeezed you eagerly, pressing closer to your body.

Taking his face into your hands, you gave him one last gesture of untold affection. It was a culmination of raw emotion free from your own better judgment. A means to communicate without talking.

You pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

At that very space in time, a singular thought occurred to both of you—I wish this moment would last forever.

"But we'll make it... Just like we always do."

What would you do if I killed you?

Nothing, because I'd be dead.

What if you survived? Or left behind a soul?

Then I'll come back and find you.

The club was still pounding away, much like the headache in his skull. Sucking in a sharp breath, he suffered the worst wake-up call in his short life—he was still bleeding, and in terrible pain. He shakily felt around his wound while hyperventilating on the ground. How he hadn't kicked the bucket yet was beyond him.

"Get your ass up already. I know you're not dead." A man growled in disdain, giving the body on the ground a light kick.

"Gh—!" He let out a pained gasp and clung onto the ground for dear life. It had been years since he felt this alive—ironically, it was when he was inches away from death.

His perpetrator had their dark eyes fixated on him like a stain on the floor. Their pupils were as red as the blood his victim bathed in. But they always had a strong stomach for gore. "What am I gonna say when the owner finds out I'm the reason you even got in here? You're bleeding into the pool." They murmured, raising his leg to keep tormenting the other like a new hobby.

With a few more kicks, the body rolled onto its back.

"Ugh... Fuck... How am I not dead?" He coughed in agony.

The other shrugged, flicking their ponytail over their shoulder. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve." As cryptic as that sounded, it was nothing but the truth. He had more to his life than dying in a nightclub. Dying could be a part of it, but this couldn't be the location to do it, nor could it be by your hand—the closest kin to his creator.

"Why else did he make you?"

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pomrania · 4 years ago

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Leverage episode content warnings

I'll add to this as I rewatch episodes, in no particular order (I’ll link the most up-to-date thread here, once I’ve done more than just this first post). If there’s a particular episode you want me to do, or something I missed, or particular stuff you want me to warn for, just tell me.

Some things apply to pretty much the entire show, thus I won't put them in for individual episodes:

alcohol use

non-graphic violence

despicable bad guys, often pulled from the headlines (but they will be mentioned in the “target” section)

lying, manipulation, theft

bad guys getting humiliated

breaches of privacy

attempted murder

the main cast is unfairly good-looking, no matter your preferences

2x13: The Future Job

Target: phony psychic who's swindling a pregnant woman by pretending to channel her dead husband

discussed past death of a child in a traffic accident

abduction

gunpoint threats

2x07: The Two Live Crew Job

Target: another group that steals something before the crew can steal it back

brief references to the Holocaust

having to hold a bomb that will explode if you move it

funeral of someone faking their death

Parker's bad acting

imagined stab injuries

imagined fight scene that would end in death

sexually-charged fight scene that involves both parties partially stripping (shirts off, bra and undershirt exposed)

implication of kinky sex

2x03: The Order 23 Job

Target: hedge fund manager who has just been given a minor sentence, without any of the stolen money being recovered

referenced death because someone couldn't afford treatment

weaponized hypochondria

drugging someone's food and drink

most of the episode is set in a hospital

physical abuse of a child

partial nudity (in undies only)

faked contagious outbreak

living person stuffed in a morgue shelf

panic

taser attack

2x01: The Beantown Bailout Job

Target: nothing formal, but it has to deal with bank bailouts

car brakes not working

car crash that then explodes

hospital

referenced past death of a parent

awkward small talk

attack due to mistaken identity (played for laughs)

dressing as religious figures for a con

getting beaten

faked gunshot death

non-consensual modifications to one's dwelling place

1x07: The Wedding Job

Target: mob boss who didn't care for the family of his fall guy

gun murder

young child with a parent in jail

wedding planning and the drama associated with it

impersonating a religious figure

cynicism against weddings and relationships

awkward wedding ceremony

burn injury

dysfunctional marriage

cigar smoking

1x01: The Nigerian Job

Target: someone who stole airplane designs

alcoholic (and probably depressed) main character

past death of a child due to insurance not cooperating, shown in flashbacks

implied past domestic and child abuse

betrayal

hospital

self-induced offscreen vomiting (but it's heard)

referenced hypothetical of sending porno magazines as revenge

Sophie's horrible acting of Lady Macbeth

minor gunshot injuries in a flashback

destruction of uninvolved property

3x03: The Inside Job

Target: nothing formal, but a food company

mentor and family members held hostage

mass firing to create chaos

dubious child-rearing practices

referenced sexting

attempted agricultural terrorism for profit

3x09: The Three-Card Monte Job

Target: a main character's criminal father, who has an unknown scheme in concert with the Russian mob

blackmailed into committing crimes

family drama

referenced past death of a parent

drugging someone's food and drink

drive-by shooting

3x11: The Rashomon Job

Target: none; pre-crew flashback

unreliable narrators

food allergies

attempted emergency throat-cutting to open airway

stab injuries

stealing someone's clothes with threats

mockery of British accent and dialect

hopeless suitor

#fandom: leverage #original content #not a reblog

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tloujm · 4 years ago

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Part IV: I Was His & He Was Mine

Author’s Notes: The chapter is the calm before the storm. Now, as stated below, there be smut! This isn’t my first time writing smut and its sure as hell not my first time reading it. To be specific, I’ve written smut between two people before. This is my first attempt at a masturbation scene. Be warned, I’m not an expert, so take everything with a grain of salt. I hope you still enjoy though; I tried my best.

Genre: ahhhh sookie sookie now, things are smutty smutty now; but don’t worry, there’s some fluff too

Summary: You and Joel are officially a couple. Its basically three different imagines combined into one chapter. I tried to make them flow, but they’re really just glimpses into their domestically blissful lives.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Jackson survived another winter. Despite the harsh weather, it was probably the highlight of the year. It didn’t take long for people to notice that you and Joel were together. Tommy and Maria especially loved it. You always felt accepted by them, but now there was more of a familial bond. The four of you found time for more family dinners. You and Joel hosted Thanksgiving while Tommy and Maria took care of Christmas. Maybe you’re a hopeless romantic, but the winter time was sort of magical.

Joel asked you to move in soon after the two of you started seeing each other. It made no sense to keep going back and forth between beds especially when you two lived on the same property. You’d never got that far in a relationship before, so it was new, but with Joel it didn’t feel wrong. Everyday, he made sure you felt loved and there was nothing you wanted more than to show that same love back to him. You remembered the first time those precious three words were said. It was after the two of you had sex for the first time. He turned you around and spooned before draping the covers back over you. He asked if you were comfortable as his arm snaked over your middle. You said yes and kissed his knuckles. They were rough but warm. He was always so warm. Then, you said it. You couldn’t hold it back anymore and you weren’t afraid to be the first one. You held your tongue during sex because you didn’t want him to think it was just because of that. You wanted him to know that how you felt was real. Him saying it right back, though, sent your head reeling. You knew that he loved you but to hear him say it for the first time was exhilarating.

As the nights got warmer, the two of you would sit on the porch and play your respective instruments. It was mostly playful little strums but sometimes Joel would turn a little ditty into a full fledged song. He was gifted. You wished that it came as easily for you as it did him. You watched him play. He looked so at peace tapping his foot and bobbing his head to the rhythm. The melodic tune was so tranquil that it almost lulled you to sleep right there on the porch. If he hadn’t stopped, he probably would have had to carry your sleeping form to bed.

“Now, I want you to play me somethin’” He said.

“Who me?” You asked rhetorically. “I guess I could try.” You picked up your ukulele.

“That’s all I ask.” He said, setting his guitar down against the house.

“Um…” You tried to remember what he taught you about the guitar so you could apply it to your instrument. You played a few basic chords but when you tried to do something more complicated, the notes began to jumble and it all fell through.

“That’s startin’ to sound like somethin’.” He said encouragingly.

“Ugh, I suck.” You make a disgusted face.

“Nah, you just need to build up your calluses is all. Here, let me see your hands.” He gestured you over by patting his thighs. You got up from your rocking chair and sat on his lap. He took the Ukulele from your hand and sat it next to his guitar. “Like these.” He showed you his hands. You were well acquainted with them, but you enjoyed the closeness nonetheless. He unraveled the fist your hand naturally formed and gently slid his fingertips across your palm. “Your hands are too soft.”

“Oh? You want them rough like yours?” You playfully asked. He chuckled and shook his head. “Uhhhuhhh.”

“You’re getting better though.” He encouraged again. You grunt and shrug your shoulders. “Just remember what I said, keep your thumb---”

“Thumb behind the neck and use your fingertips and not your fingerpads.”

“Glad to see I’m gettin’ through to you.” He said sarcastically. You made a move to leave the porch but Joel’s arms tightened around your waist. “Now, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“I was going to put my ukulele up and call it a night.” You responded.

He dug his face into your shoulder. “Don’t go.” The words came out muffled but you still heard him. You moved your arms and wrapped them around his neck before laying your lips on his forehead.

“Then, I’ll stay.” And the two of you did for a few solid minutes.

“Y’know, when I was a kid,” He stopped and let out a breathy laugh. “I wanted to be a singer.”

“Shut up!” You laughed with him. “Really? Joel Miller, the singer? That’s sensational.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you! Sing for me.” You requested.

He shook his head and fiddled with a button on your shirt. “Uh, no.”

“I bet you sound really nice!” You said but he didn’t respond. “I won’t laugh. Please?” You beg in a voice Joel could only describe as adorable.

“Maybe another time.” He was serious. In truth, he was self conscious, even in front of you. Music had always been near and dear to him. It was one thing to share his guitar skills, but his voice was different. He knew he wasn’t the best singer, but when he was younger, he figured that if he could find a vocal coach, maybe he could actually be successful at it. He scoffed at his thoughts, as the dream seemed so distant now.

“Come to bed with me?” You asked in a whisper.

He smiled. “‘Course.” He kissed the arm still wrapped around his neck before tapping your thigh. You got up and grabbed both instruments. He opened the front door for you and turned off the porch light.

*****

Sometimes Joel’s patrol job could be a multi day excursion. Because of his level of experience, he was trusted with doing the longer, harsher routes. What gave you comfort was knowing that he wasn’t by himself out there. He never left without a group of two other equally experienced people. When you especially missed him, you would spend time in his craft room. That and his pillow reminded you of him the most. Today, you decided to relax in there. You grabbed a book from downstairs and settled down on the loveseat in his room. You only managed to get one page in before thoughts of him distracted you. It was not enough to be in his space, you had to imagine that he was there.

You looked up at his desk. It was covered in sawdust and unfinished figurines. He would make them for the children in the community. Despite his cold exterior, he had a soft spot for kids. Toys were often not a priority when scavenging, so they were grateful for the things he’d make. It was a win-win. The kids got to be kids and Joel got to keep his hands busy. What couldn’t that man do with his hands? You smiled at the thought. His passion project was building a guitar from scratch, though. He used the one that he found as a model. Various parts of the guitar were strewn across the table. Looking at the curved edges of the guitar’s body made you think back to when he first sanded them down. His hands skimmed the surface; top to bottom. His muscles flexed through the motions. You let out a little whimper before changing positions in the loveseat. If you weren’t facing the table, thoughts of him couldn’t distract you. Or at least that’s what you wanted to think. Soon enough, you learned that that was far from the truth. Giving up, you sat the book down and went to your shared room.

You gently closed the door behind you. The pants were the first to come off, then it was your shirt. You crawled into the middle of your bed with nothing but your underwear on. You allowed your hands to caress different parts of your body. Closing your eyes, you imagined that they were his. Your smaller, softer hands could not compare, however. Still, you continued your blind search. Your hands quickly found themselves down your panties and to your clit. You massaged it for a few moments before turning over on your knees. You grabbed two pillows and lined them up before straddling one between your thighs. Arching your back, you began to grind to maintain the sensation. Your hips quickly found a rhythm while your hands slid under your bra. You rubbed and squeezed your breasts like he would. Your body was becoming more sensitive and you were determined to ride out the sensation. Within seconds, the clasp was released and your bra was tossed to the side. As your body moved up and down the pillows, your nipples dragged against the bed. You slipped a hand down your middle as you began to pulsate. You rubbed circles around your clit before abandoning the pillows altogether. You slid over to the edge of the bed and started to grind over the corner. You squeezed your thighs with every stroke. With your face planted on the bed, you slid your other fingers into your entrance. You contracted around them for several moments longer until the built up pressure finally released.

Your favorite part of being with Joel was the end. You would keep him hostage inside you every time you closed around him. You could see the struggle in his face as he fought off the impulse to cum inside you. As an erotic contraceptive, he would spill onto your stomach instead. After getting yourself off, you found yourself missing that part. You found yourself missing him. You climbed back onto the bed and cuddled the pillows, one between your legs and the other hugged by your arms. It was such a comfortable feeling that you soon fell asleep.

*****

For Joel, today was just like any other day. He woke up next to you, took a shower, made breakfast and waited for you to wake so you could eat together. Even though the routine appeared mundane on paper, he was more than content. He was happy and it was because of you. He never said it out loud, even in front of you, but he was afraid of being alone again. Not the kind of alone where you’re reading a book by yourself or eating in the corner of the bar at a table for one. He’d grown accustomed to going through life alone after the infection. His family had fallen apart and he had to learn how to fend for himself. He even learned how to benefit from being alone after a while. It wasn’t until he crossed paths with you and reunited with his brother that he realized how being alone truly made him feel and he did not ever want to go back to that. At times, he found himself paranoid over losing you again. He fought those thoughts by reminding himself that you were here with him. You loved him back and it made his heart swell, almost to the point of breaking; a feeling he hadn’t experienced in at least a decade.

“Hey, I was gonna make breakfast today.” You protested as you came downstairs. You followed the smell of eggs, buttered toast and freshly squeezed orange juice.

“I was already up.” Joel said nonchalantly.

“See, that’s your problem. You don’t let yourself sleep in.” You playfully accuse.

He chuckled. “I can’t sleep in,” He pushed your plate toward you. “I have work today.”

“Today? I thought you were off.”

He shook his head. “Nathan asked me to cover him in his scavenging group yesterday. His son is sick and Sheila’s still on patrol…” He faded out before stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Oh.” You said. Joel noticed the wheels moving in your head.

“You can join us today. I know you like scavenging and we could use another good shot.” Joel offered.

“I would love to, but I can’t. I promised Donna I’d help her in the gardens.” It was a lie. You were usually not opposed to lying, especially since it has saved your ass multiple times when traveling. After starting a relationship with Joel, you’d become more conscious about lies and you didn’t want to be hypocritical. It was just a little white lie which you deemed ok, however.

“Oh. Well, I’ll miss you.” He said as he got up. He walked over and lifted your chin before kissing you. “Save me a couple of apples?”

You nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

“And not one of those green ones.”

“I know, you like the dark red ones.” You said. He matched your smile, thinking about how much he appreciated you, even with the little things. You waved as he left for the day.

You cleaned the dishes, wondering what to do now. You had the whole day planned out for you and Joel. Of course, you hadn’t told him this the day before. You were convinced that his day would stay open. Why would he work today of all days? You were just going to have to rearrange some things for when he came back from the scavenging trip. After the kitchen was cleaned, you got ready for the day and went down to the gardens to get his apples.

Later that evening, Joel came back home. It was dark inside the house. Joel flipped the switch. Your name caught in his throat as he found you sleeping on the couch. He was glad that he saw you when he did because he was ready to yell out your name. Joel had gotten home later than planned. The scavenging group arrived back in Jackson after dark, but it was still too early to find you sleeping. Joel was usually the first to fall asleep between you two. You were the night owl and he was the morning bird.

You woke up as he slung your arms around his neck. He was going to carry you to bed but you protested as soon as you gained consciousness. He was surprised at how quickly you woke up and sat you back down on the couch.

“Joel!” You woke up startled. “Shit, what time is it?” Napping had always disoriented you. Seeing the darkness from the windows didn’t help. You looked around for the clock.

“Quarter to ten. Sorry I’m late, darlin’. There was this store that we couldn’t pass up on our route but it took some extra work to get into.”

“Oh,” There’s still time, you thought to yourself. “That’s alright. As long as you’re back safe.” You began to get giddy with excitement. Joel smiled at how you cared. He let his body fall onto the couch, slumping into the cushions.

He stretched his arm out around your shoulder just as you got up. “Hey, where you goin’ now?” He frowned.

“I’ll be right back!” You ran into the dining room and back within record time. You came back with a big box in your hands.

He looked up at it with tired eyes. “What’s this?”

“Happy Birthday, my love.” You said, holding the box out for him to take.

He shook his head with a smile. “How did you know about that?”

“So you can know about mine, but I can’t know about yours?” You asked playfully. “I asked Tommy awhile back.”

“You coulda just asked me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I had the whole day planned out as a surprise but then…” You faded off.

“Sorry, (Y/N). If I would have known, I would have said no to Nathan.”

“Well, that would have ruined the point of the surprise, silly. Now, just open your gift.” You demand excitedly. You knew he was going to be happy with it.

“Yes, Ma’am.” A look of confusion crossed his face as he took it in his hands. “Seems kinda light for such a big box.”

“All part of the surprise to throw you off.”

He did as he was told and you watched as his face went through a multitude of expressions. “Um...Is this what I think it is, darlin’?” Joel held up a blunt between his fingers.

“That is exactly what you think it is.” You gave him a mischievous smile.

“Where did you find weed?”

“God, you wouldn’t believe.” You shook your head. “It was from Eugene!” His eyes widened. “Yeah, during the winter, me and my patrol group had to make a detour because of the weather, so we found this building that appeared abandoned but it looked like Eugene beat us to it. He turned the whole basement into a garden of marijuana plants. I fucking swear. He had rolling papers there, so I rolled two and took them with me.”

“How do you know it was Eugene’s?” He asked, twiddling it between his fingers.

“I recognized some of his stuff around the place.”

“You showed your patrol group this?”

“We had to wait out a whole blizzard. How do you think we killed our time?” Another slick smile crossed your face to which Joel playfully shook his head. “Don’t worry, we made sure to leave no evidence that we were ever there...other than the missing blunts. We swore each other to secrecy, but I figured I’d make a little exception for my baby on his birthday.”

Joel chuckled. “You’re too kind, darlin’.” He took a whiff of the blunt before setting it back down for later. “Now, this.” He pulled out a glass jar with a worn label, smiling ear to ear. He was speechless.

“You like it?” You knew he did.

He glared at you sarcastically. “How did you find coffee beans?”

“I picked up a few scavenging shifts of my own a while back. We were inside this large house and the person who owned it must have loved coffee too because this is good quality stuff right here. Look at that label, or what’s left of it. It looks fancy!”

“That it does.”

“And I traded for this mortar and pestle right here,” You reached inside the box. “When that group passed through last month, remember?” He nodded before looking back up at you. “I figured you could use it to grind the beans. It's stone, so hopefully it’ll hold up well.”

“Mmmhmm.” He hummed in agreement. You looked back at him and smiled. “Thank you, baby. I love it all.” The way he looked at you so genuinely mingled with his deep, Texas drawl? You almost lost it.

“You’re welcome, my love.” You cupped his bearded cheek and kissed him. You gently pushed away before it could go deeper. “What do you say we leave the coffee ‘til the morning and light up now?” You gesture toward the blunt on the coffee table.

Without words, Joel reached into his back pocket and pulled out his lighter. Your grin grew as you held the blunt up to his flame. You were about to take a drag, but you turned the blunt around and placed it between his lips. You told him that it was his birthday, so he got to have the first puff. For the rest of the hour, the two of you passed it back and forth before putting out the stub in the mortar. The two of you became a fit of coughs and laughter which lasted well into the night. You didn’t know about Joel, but it hit you harder than you thought it would. The two of you ate through all of the fruit in the bowl on the counter and the homemade granola bars you made the other day.

You were picking with the granola crumbs on your shirt when you caught Joel looking at you a certain way. You were not a stranger to this look. You licked the crumbs off your fingers and squinted your eyes in playful curiosity. A coy smile grew on your face to match his. Joel patted his lap. He didn’t have to ask twice. You crawled on top and his face was immediately glued to yours. You grinded over his jeans as your fingers snaked through his hair. His tongue entered your mouth and danced with yours. The air was filled with nothing but panting and moans. You lifted up to unzip his pants and pulled him out of his underwear. You licked the palm of your hand before reaching back down and wrapping your fingers around his member. It was a slow and gentle stroke at first. Your thumb ran over the precum from the head and dragged it all the way down. As his breathing became more and more shallow, you began to tug faster. Your eyes were locked on him. You reached your other hand down to fondle the rest. He twitched in your hands; you could feel what was coming. It was only a matter of moments before he released all over his shirt and your hand. He rested his head back against the couch. You helped him remove his button down and put it in the dirty laundry. Shirtless and pants undone, he grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs to bed.

#TLOU #TLOU 2 #tlou joel #tlou part 2 #joel miller #joel #fanfic #fanfiction #joel x reader #OC #reader insert #The Last of Us #Joel Miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel/reader

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bang-to-the-tan · 5 years ago

Text

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

“Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…” your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes. It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

Previous Masterlist Next

#moth to flame #bts x reader #bts smut #bts vampire au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #do you see now #do you understand #why it took me so long #none of this was originally in it ok #(hey anon i hope this soothes our relationship. <3 u #sorry again)#FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one #i dont know WHO i was CHANNELING #hand to god it only gets worse i just kEEP GETTING W O R S E #am i retconning hoseok being an asshole #eeeeeeyup lmao do what i wanna shrug #oh oh did you get my reference #w the other vampires #eeyyyyyy im not gonna put them in the tags cos its such a small bit part but eeeeeYYY #i dont actually listen to anyone but BTS im sorry i just wanted smone else to exist in this world that WASNT them ok #ive heard some of their stuff just havnt like #idk i dont follow anyone #i was incredibly into super junior when i started listening to kpop but thats cos i used it to write other smut :)#cos i couldn't understand korean #hey how you doing this is a lot of tags huh #well its been a long day alright #its been a day #ive been writing this chapter for so long i just wanna write my FEELINGS now

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fortysevenswrites · 4 years ago

Note

SETHKATE and KASTLE and KIMBERLY/TOMMY

HAHA Emily, I had a feeling I’d get these from you (though pleasantly surprised at the inclusion of Tomberly!)

SethKate

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Seth, but Kate has been known to when she being patronizing, usually because Richie is right about something and Seth is not happy to have to acknowledge that

Gets jealous the most - Seth. 10000%. He knows how OUT OF HIS LEAGUE his tiny, vicious person is, and really does not like how she insists on being SO DAMN NICE AND GIVING THE COMPLETE WRONG IMPRESSION to anyone (any MAN) who comes into Jed’s.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Both. Usually Seth (especially when he gets caught up in his feelings), but then there are the nights where Kalinda convinces Kate to come out with the Jed’s staff and they all get full on shmammered.

Takes care of on sick days - Both. Seth gets really worried about Kate when she gets sick, like REALLY WORRIED, because of the whole...Amaru of it all, and is SUPER into taking care of her. But when Seth gets sick, he is a whiny, needy mess of a human person, and Kate basically has to cuddle him until he feels better (”has to” in HUGE quotes)

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Kate. Fuller. Full stop. Seth, for all that he wouldn’t shut up about El Rey, doesn’t actually like the beach all that much (Anakin Skywalker anti-sand vibes here), but he does let Kate drag him into the ocean whenever they go to the beach because she loves it. And also because she’s in a bikini and DUH.

Gives unprompted massages - Seth is the handsiest and cuddliest. Of course he would.

Drives/rides shotgun - Seth drives. Kate controls the music, and doesn’t always play music he can’t stand.

Brings the other lunch at work - Kate. Not that she slides into the homemaker role that her mother took with her family, but Kate knows that Seth gets distracted and forgets to eat, and when he remembers, he eats like shit, so she takes it upon herself that he has at least a meal or two a day that will help him maintain that six-pack for as long as possible.

Has the better parental relationship - Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Kate by default, even though....neither parental relationship is all that great? Jacob did lie to Kate, a lot. And Jennifer, well, she struggled with her own issues and that did put a strain on her relationship with Kate, especially since Kate didn’t KNOW what was going on behind the scenes.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - I actually don’t think either would. They get up to a LOT in bed, but Kate does not have it in her to role play, I don’t feel. And Seth goes along with what’s going to make Kate happy and not embarrassed, because an embarrassed Kate does not have sex.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Kate. She just gives no fucks, and once she starts drinking recreationally, she just likes to have fun. Seth thinks it’s fucking adorable.

Still cries watching Titanic - Seth. It’s a f i l m, and the man knows to appreciate a good movie. Kate just can’t understand why they couldn’t just share the door.

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Kate. Fuller. With backing from Richie. Seth hates it, but well, happy wife, happy life ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Seth. Gecko. Full stop. Kate never really saw a need for money growing up, what with her dad and that constant message of providing for your community, so she really doesn’t know what to do with the money she gets being part of Los Tres Geckos outside of some small splurges. Seth, on the other hand, sees things and doesn’t look at price tags because he loves her.

Makes the other eat breakfast - Both. Since they keep such weird hours while running an operation that is predominantly nocturnal, it’s really just whoever is up first and remembers to check that they need to eat.

Remembers anniversaries - Seth. The man forgets nothing, like, from the big things to the little things (it makes him more than a little petty, too, but hey, what can you do?). Kate remembers the big dates, but Seth seems to have an anniversary for every day of the week for the two of them, whether it’s the first time Kate successfully learned a trick of the trade from him, or the day he realized she was still alive, or any milestone time period after Matanzas, or when Kate learned how to bartend, or, of course, the day he and Richie kidnapped her and her family.

Brings up having kids - Seth. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but eventually, LONG into the future, Seth realizes he DOES want that with Kate, and it’s a very uncomfortable (for him) conversation because she’s still so much younger than he is and he doesn’t want to pressure her, but also he wants it all with her in a way he never eve thought he’d want with anyone.

Kastle and Tomberly under the cut!

Kastle

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Frank Castle, full stop. When he lets himself, he is v e r y affectionate. It comes to a surprise to Karen, but she gets used to it quick.

Gets jealous the most - Frank, because he feels guilty about the whole thing where he’s a criminal/vigilante and every man who breathes in Karen’s direction he feels could be her chance at a normal life. It takes a while for Karen to beat the stupid out of Frank in that regard, but does happen eventually.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Frank, every single time. Girls night with Sarah and Marci and Jones and Trish and Claire? Yeah. Frank plays DD more often than he ever imagined he would. Whenever he gets shitfaced off his ass, which is VERY rare, he usually bunks down wherever he is, which is always a controlled environment where he’s safe enough to let go.

Takes care of on sick days - Both. Frank is SUCH a family man, and can’t stand it when someone isn’t feeling well, and Karen is the QUEEN of overdoing it when she’s sick, so he has to make her rest. And the rare times where Frank is the one who’s sick? Karen has to force him to accept her help. That’s when she tends to comment under her breath about how exasperating he is, even though she knows he can hear her.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Karen. They don’t often do normal things like, “Hey, it’s beach day!” Because of the well, vigilante of it all, but when they do, it’s definitely Karen who has to drag him out from under the umbrella. The bikini helps a LOT with her case.

Gives unprompted massages - Frank. He knows Karen gets VERY stressed (he doesn’t blame her, working with Murdock and all), and she spends way more time than he things could possibly be healthy hunched over her computer, so shoulder massages are the norm in the Kastle apartment.

Drives/rides shotgun - Frank does most, if not all of the driving, which, of course, isn’t much when you live in NYC. Unless he’s been hurt and Karen has to cart him back home from wherever he was where he got his ass kicked (which, also, is rare.

Brings the other lunch at work - Frank, because A, he loves taking care of Karen, but also a little bit because Matt HATES when Frank stops by the office, and it scares the CRAP out of Foggy, which is endlessly entertaining.

Has the better parental relationship - Well, neither Frank nor Karen’s parents are in the picture, but it would have to be Frank by default, seeing as Karen’s mom is dead and Karen’s dad is a jerk.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - Neither. Frank is pretty straight-forward in bed, and it never occurs to Karen that she’d want to pretend they’re anything but Frank and Karen.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Karen. She doesn’t let loose often, but on girls night? Endless entertainment.

Still cries watching Titanic - Karen gets teary because she gets frustrated. Titanic is just…not a movie that Frank’s a fan of, but he humors Karen whenever she chooses to hate-watch something.

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Not that they really partake on Halloween much, but Karen would be the one most likely to come up with a couples themed costume. Frank would probably find any and every excuse to be busy on Halloween so he can avoid it.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Neither really. Holidays are hard for Frank, and neither are very materialistic. They tend to just spend holidays with one another, or they go to the Lieberman’s, and most of their efforts center on getting nice gifts for the kids.

Makes the other eat breakfast - Frank. If Karen had it her way, she’s subsist on coffee and spite. Frank makes sure she gets enough caloric energy in her so she can instill fear in the unjust.

Remembers anniversaries - Both. Frank can’t forget any of his anniversaries and important dates with Maria and the kids, but also really can’t forget things like the day he met Karen at the hospital, the day at the hotel with Lewis, and of course, the day he pulled his head out of his ass and apologized for telling her to walk away. Karen also can’t forget the day she met Frank, when he used her as bait in the coffee shop, also the hotel, and when Frank totaled her car when she was being held hostage by Schoonover.

Brings up having kids - Frank, but only in the sense that he’s concerned that Karen doesn’t know what she’s getting into with him (yeah, right). Karen sets him straight that she really doesn’t want kids and also doesn’t want to think that she wants to replace Lisa and Frankie. They talk about it once and it never really comes up again.

Kimberly/Tommy

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Tommy. Because as much as Kimberly can hold her own in a fight, she is still is tiny and adorable girlfriend.

Gets jealous the most - Neither really (BECAUSE IN THIS UNIVERSE THERE WAS NO STUPID FUCKING LETTER). Yeah, long distance is hard, but they manage to keep things together pretty well while Kimberly competes internationally.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Tommy absolutely plays DD. When they’re old enough to drink, Kimberly absolutely enjoys letting loose and going to a party or two or…twelve.

Takes care of on sick days - Kimberly, because Tommy, being a leader and all, rarely lets anyone see him when he’s sick or struggling. He is very stubborn.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Kimberly. On days where the bad guys choose not to attack when the Rangers are out at the beach (or, well, the lake in Angel Grove, California, Canada), it’s Kimberly who pulls Tommy into the water with her, but also Tommy who pulls Kim back out with him when he gets bored of her lying around working on her tan.

Gives unprompted massages - Both. They’re both not just Rangers, but they’re athletes too, and they know how important it is to avoid muscle strain as much as possible.

Drives/rides shotgun - When they’re not teleporting to and from the Command Center, it’s Tommy who does most of the driving, so Kimberly can finish doing her makeup or filling him in on the latest school gossip.

Brings the other lunch at work - Neither. They’re both very self-sufficient, but will trade off who picks up their smoothies from Ernie up at the juice bar.

Has the better parental relationship - Neither. Kimberly’s parents are suuuuuuper MIA (like, if they weren’t, they’d probably figure out pretty quick that she’s, you know, A FUCKING POWER RANGER), and Tommy’s parents are also pretty…MIA. Like, really, do ANY Rangers have parents other than…Billy? It’s not that Zordon was looking for teenagers with attitude. It was attitude AND absentee parents.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - They are way too damn vanilla to even consider role play.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Tommy. Oliver. For all that he’s very good at fighting, it does NOT transfer to da club.

Still cries watching Titanic - Kimberly. She just gets emotional about how Jack sacrificed himself so Rose could live. Tommy wishes Kimberly would watch more movies with explosions. (And also wonders why the hell they couldn’t have just shared the door)

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Technically both, because Tommy is INTO Halloween and is happy to let Kimberly pick the costumes for them,

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - I mean, they’re in high school and fighting a war, so I don’t think they really think much about presents (plus, they get pretty sick gets in terms of tech from Zordon), but as adults, definitely Tommy doting on Kim, who gets annoyed that he’s using his teacher salary on extravagant gifts (she’s the real moneymaker in the family as a world-famous gymnast and coach)

Makes the other eat breakfast - When they do live together, Kimberly does the meal making because she finds cooking therapeutic.

Remembers anniversaries - Both, but Tommy remembers some of the more obscure anniversaries, like the day Kim fainted when she saw him in the new White Ranger uniform.

Brings up having kids - Kimberly. She tells Tommy that she’s planning on retiring from competing and going to coaching full-time, and when Tommy asks why, Kimberly tells him that it’s really hard to do a side aerial off the balance beam while pregnant, since balance is…hard when there’s a bun in the oven.

#asked and answered #ship asks

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

Text

Lesson Learned - Awakening

Summary: All you wanted was a night out, a few drinks and fun with a hot guy. Dean has other plans…

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, unnamed demons, Castiel, Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, dirty talk, smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, dub-con, kidnapping, breeding kink, comforting, non-con cuddling (yes, that’s a warning kiddo’s!), scared reader, language, slight choking (non-sexual)

Sequel to: Lesson learned

Kinktober Special: Pregnancy Sex

Kinktober Specials

“Never go home with a stranger, Sweetheart. Lesson learned…I guess…”

These words echo through your mind while you stroke your four months baby bump. Watching Dean talking to another demon, giving the black-eyed bastard, as you call them, orders you feel tears well up your eyes once again.

Dean is treating you like a queen, protects you and is attentively in any way but he’s still a demon.

You heard rumors. Rumors about his brother being a hunter and an angel. Both men seem to search for Dean and you silently pray to the man, the angel, the demons call Castiel.

Your captor smirks, giving you a wink as his eyes land on your swollen belly. He’s satisfied. You are the right girl, he chose wisely. Everyone wanted him to choose a demon possessing a vessel, but he knew you are the one carrying his heir.

Shushing the demon occupying his attention away Dean strides toward you. He’s already rock-hard again. Only the sight of your swollen belly and your growing breasts makes him growl loudly.

“Baby Girl, you look so delicious, could devour you day and night. How about we get comfortable again?” Dean whispers in your ear and you start to shiver.

You got no clue what he does to you but the moment Dean touches you your body is on fire and slick is pooling between your thighs.

“Dean…again?” You whisper.

Your captor doesn’t answer. He’s too busy to pick you up to carry you toward the cozy bedroom he prepared in hell for you and him. It’s the only room not looking as if it comes straight out of a nightmare.

“I want what’s mine. I want to feel my baby while I pound this tight pussy. Imagine a whole football team…” Dean groans and you need to tame your wildly beating heart.

“Football team?” Gasping you let Dean rip the dress covering your modesty apart. He’s eying you with darkened eyes, sinking to his knees to rest his ear against your swollen belly. “Yeah…want more. I can feel my son inside of you, such a strong boy. I wish you could feel him too…”

“I feel him, Dean. Every. Single. Day. I feel my baby…our baby.” You sniffle. “I’m afraid to raise him here, Dean. Can we not go somewhere else? Only you and me?”

“I can’t leave hell! I’m the king of hell, their knight, Sweetheart. I promise no one will dare to lay a finger on you or my son.”

His lips start to kiss your tummy and you close your eyes, feeling Dean slipping one hand between your legs to tease your entrance.

“So wet for me, Baby. I knew you want me too. I can feel the desperation for my cock grow with every day of your pregnancy. Soon you will barely be able to be without me pounding this cunt.”

“Dean. I don’t know how to raise a child in hell.”

Words dying in your throat you let the demon, the king of hell place you onto the bed. You can barely blink before his head is buried between your legs, nipping at your sensitive clit.

“We will find a way, my queen, now shut these pretty lips and let me fuck you. I’m rock-hard since this morning. Hate these meetings and hell sometimes.”

Sliding his tongue through your folds Dean moans, as his rough hands hold your thighs open, gripping the flesh tightly.

Giving in once again your watch Dean working your clit, before his skilled muscle slips into your hole, teasing you with fast thrusts.

“Dean…please…god…” You fall onto the pillow, pressing the palms of your hands against the headboard as Dean takes you apart. The demon knows exactly how to rule your body.

“God won’t help you; he was never on your side. But I’m here and will help you…cum.” Dean grins, something sinister on his lips but mischief in his eyes he wipes his face clean with the back of his hand.

He’s crawling slowly over your body, covering your trembling form. Dean’s lips claim yours, hands spreading you wide he enters you in one go, cursing as he bottoms out. Oddly he’s gentler over the last months, since he got to know you are carrying his child.

Knees dug into the mattress he moves your legs over his waist, holding your thighs in a tight grip before he starts thrusting into you. You know this game. In this position, he can rule your whole body and watch you cum for him.

Grinning he nods, licking his lips as he starts moving in earnest. Your hands fist the silky sheets while you take all Dean has to give.

“Going to fill you again. Maybe I fuck a second baby into you. How does that sound, Y/N? No way you will ever not be pregnant with my little demons.” He growls, almost feral. Not caring about your gasps, he moves his hips faster, now hitting your sweet spot.

“Dean! I can’t…oh…god…” Cursing you want to protest; want to tell him he can’t get you pregnant all the time but the pleasure spreading through your body let you fall silent.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me, my queen.” You barely hear his grunts or feel his cum floating your belly.

----

After the pleasure fades you feel despair once again. You are in hell, held hostages by its king and pregnant with his child.

Dean tries as always to hold you in his arms, to cuddle you. You always enjoyed ‘cuddling’ after sex but with a demon, it feels so wrong.

Struggling to not squirm in his hold you feel his chest pressing against your back and his hot breath fanning over your exposed skin. Dean insists on holding you for at least an hour so you lie next to him, counting the minutes.

“I know you are not happy with this situation, but you will be, soon. You will see the wonders I can offer to you, Y/N. You’re mine and I care about what’s mine.”

“What if I don’t want to be yours? What if I was happy with my life?” You raise your voice and Dean wraps one hand around your throat, chuckling darkly as he squeezes your windpipe.

“Don’t get me wrong. I can still knock another whore up. You are no one special to me. Only a random slut I banged and got her pregnant. I can kill you right now and wouldn’t care at all.” Dean growls and tears slip down your cheeks. “Choose wisely, Baby Girl. Me or death…”

Touching your baby bump you close your eyes, whispering you and Dean let go of your throat, now cuddling you as if nothing happened. “Good girl. Now sleep.”

----

Awaking you hear screams echo through the hallways. Dean is cursing, fighting against two men you never saw before. You stare at the scene with wide, fearful eyes as one of the men handcuffs the demon keeping you safe.

“No! Let me go. I need to protect my queen and my child!” Dean yells.

The taller man stares at your shaking form, eyes soft he wants to say something but then the door bursts open and demons run into the room, smirking.

“Well…well. I guess your whore is ours now.” One of the demons smirks trying to drag you off the bed but the other man, wearing a trenchcoat stabs him with a long silver knife - or is it a sword?

“You need to save my queen!” Dean curses struggling against the tall man. The guy in the trench coat is picking you up, covering your modesty with a blanket.

Before you can blink you find yourself placed onto a foreign bed. The man smiles, covering you with a warm blanket. “I heard your prayers, Y/N. I have to go back and help Sam.”

“Castiel?”

“I’ll be right back…”

----

You can hear the demon scream. Not knowing what will happen now you sit on the bed, shaking in fear. What if Dean dies? What if the baby inside of you is a demon?

“It’s not a demon, Y/N. The little boy is strong and sadly he will have special powers but he’s mostly human. If you raise him right, with Dean’s help, he will be the savior of the world one day.” Castiel whispers. “Dean will be himself soon. He will need you…”

“He kidnapped me, forced pregnancy on me. Why should I help him?” Your voice full of anger you shake your head.

“Dean was looking for you so long, Y/N. I can’t tell you why, it’s not my place to tell you.” The angel wants to leave the room, but you grab his hand, looking up at him.

“Why did he look for me?”

“I can only tell you and Dean met before, in another life…”

Part 3 - Lesson Learned – What’s past is past

SPN Forever Tags

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limi-pie · 5 years ago

Text

The taste of Red Wine part 2

A/N: Hello everyone! This is part 2 of my fan fiction! Hope you enjoy it, also I’d appreciate it a lot if you liked/reblogged my part 1! Find it here. ^u^ Part 3 is out! Find and read it here.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that this is all fanmade and it’s fanfiction. All events and things I wrote about in this Mafia alternative universe are purely based on my imagination and fiction. This story is for entertainment purposes and nothing else. I only own Lee Meílíng Y/N and other villains mentioned in said chapters.

I do not own BTS or Bighit Entertainment/HYBE Labels or the other K-Pop idols, or artists. I’m also not associated with any of the said artists in my fanfiction. I do not support The Mafia or any of the violence, crimes, or actions that have happened in this story.

Genre: Mafia AU, Smut, Angst, Teacher! Female Reader, Mafia leader! Yoongi. From former friends to enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Violence, angst, blood, mentions of liquor, drugs, smoking, sexual harassment, heavy liquor, cursing, NSFW, mentions of sex, penetration, and grinding but it’s more of a dream.

Summary: Meeting and stumbling upon your former childhood friend as Korea’s dangerous Mafia Leader wasn’t something you’d expect to ever happen. Bumping into your asshole of a boyfriend in the morning didn’t make it better for you. As of now you decided to hit the fitness and forget all about Min Yoongi but a lot more was awaiting you...

Last edited: On the 21th of October 2024, fixed the entire chapter with some HEAVY changes of wording, sentences and phrases.

Hopefully it’ll be easier to read and enjoy, my homies & besties~ 😈🤝

Wordcount: 5,539

Luckily Daniel wasn’t home, I took my clothes off as I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes red from crying and the marks of hands on my throat, I sighed as I bathed scrubbing my body thoroughly and rough. The marks on my ankles and wrists weren’t cheering me up either...

I just wanted to forget all about Min Yoongi and his gang members. I changed into some casual and comfortable oversized clothes paired with some lavender cotton socks as I waddled over to the living room, I saw Namjoon and Hoseok loafing on the couch watching whatever was on the TV.

“So what you two wanna eat? Should I cook some or order some food?” Hoseok smiled as he said that he already ordered some Korean fried chicken and Kimchi fried rice for us.

“Yeah it’ll be here in around 20 minutes, are you okay? Your neck seemed red with rashes or something...?” Namjoon asked as I looked down, rubbing my neck. “It must be some sort of allergy, don’t worry about it. I usually get awful rashes when I’m sweating or terrified like today.” I laughed it off nervously not wanting to tell them how Min Yoongi almost choked me to death and made me lose consciousness with his veiny hands.

“We’re watching some sort of romance movie and there’s already a sex scene, ahaha.” Hoseok laughed as he waited for me to sit beside him as I hugged my knees resting my head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, if it wasn’t for me then you guys would’ve been safe at home instead of being kidnapped…” Namjoon and Hoseok shook their heads as they smiled. “Y/N, it’s fine, we got out of there alive that must mean our friendship is too strong, unlike others, heh.” He said proudly and rubbed my head, I just nodded and agreed with Namjoon’s kind words. The doorbell rang as I answered the door, taking our food and bowing before I headed back to them.

“Come on let’s eat it, whilst it’s still hot~” I cooed as we smiled and ate the delicious food, we were quite hungry and it was only midday. Namjoon drank a sparkling Pacha green apple drink as he shifted his eyes around the place. “Anyways, so the group that held us hostages. They’re apparently one of the most dangerous Mafia Gangs out there: Bangtan Gang is, what they call themselves.” My eyes widen as I ate the rest of my Kimchi fried rice and kept listening to Namjoon telling us what seemed to be false a story, however it wasn’t. “Namjoon, how do you know that?” Hoseok asked in confusion as he drank a lime flavored Pacha, tilting his head curiously.

“–Park Jimin told me all about it. Also, I overheard some guys talk about the Bangtan, and I thought, it was all just lies until I heard the rumors and incidents, they’ve been responsible for.” My and Hoseok’s eyes widen as our jaws dropped, blinking in confusion. “So... They could’ve really sold us or killed us back then if we weren’t careful…” I gulped, placing my melon flavored Pacha down. I was frightened for what might’ve happened if I made one wrong move in their presence.

“Just listen closely. Let’s start with one of the eldest of the members, Park Jimin. The seducer and the planner of the group, very sly as he is easily able to shift from seductive to callous in less than a second. He’s quite manipulative and smart, also the most loyalest member to his Leader since he’s in charge of protecting and guiding him. Not to mention, he’s capable of many of things almost excelling in both defense and offense, speed and stalling out. Jimin’s considered to be Bangtan’s second Leader but that’s only theory.

Second up is Kim Taehyung, the kidnapper and punisher, who lived in the Daegu town with his leader, so he understands his way of thinking quite well. Very good at luring women with his charms and words of deception. However, his personality and identity is like a U-turn; one moment he’s flirting with you and the next thing he’ll inject a syringe filled with sleeping dose and you’ll wake up, tied tightly to a chair. Taehyung and an unlimited amount of tools to use in order to interrogate, punish, threaten or acquire relevant information from a hostage.

Third is the youngest member, Jeon Jungkook the hitman, hacker and the weapon supplier. His soft like and bunny cheeks exterior are easily mistaken as kindness, purity and innocence – but this man’s interior has a variety of knowledge about weapons, drugs, as well as all the fatal and weak spots of any human being. If that wasn’t enough, his hands are able to hack an entire network or data system in less than 20 seconds. Known to never lose a fight against an enemy or foe, always hungry for blood and violence, he seeks only to win.

Lastly, but most important Min Yoongi the Leader of the Mafia Bangtan Gang as known as ‘Suga’. The clever, cold and intimidating character never faltered or wavered in his path. Never failing a mission whether killing off a child molester or robbing a rich corrupt CEO. The emotionless and cold-hearted man with blood on his hands; he never struggled to reach his goal and never disappoints another Mafia Leader, let it be a battle or a business proposal. Surprisingly, quite a lady’s man, his handsome and cool attitude gets most women to fall for him and his eyes in an instant. However there hasn’t been someone, he has loved or felt something for.”

We finished our food and drinks as we went silent for a bit staring into the air. “Woah… I can’t believe Min Yoongi doesn’t recognize us anymore…” I said, suddenly breaking the awkward and heavy silence between us three. Hoseok just shrugged his shoulders and Namjoon clenching his jawline hard.

“It is what it is, we can no longer change who Yoongi is or what he has become. Y/N just forget about Min Yoongi, he’s no good and just bad news.” Namjoon told me, patting my shoulder and I nodded in uncertainty even though I knew that I simply couldn’t do that.

“Anyways Y/N, I have to teach some kids dancing, see you around.” Hoseok got up as he smiled softly, waving as he made a finger heart with his right hand. I waved too, making a heart with my hands, Namjoon got up too. I knew that today he had to work out with his friend Kim Seok Jin, who also happens to be a doctor. “Take care, okay? Take it easy too, make sure to say hi to Daniel for us, okay?” He fist bumped me as he headed out too, the silence filling the living room as it began to rain.

It was only 04:35 PM but something about the rainy and wet windows made me lost in my thoughts so deeply. The thoughts didn’t leave me. Yoongi’s change in tone and the fact that he threatened me. I felt betrayed, I felt hurt... I couldn’t recognize the guy I loved so much turn into someone; so criminal. “Wonder where Daniel is…? Probably at a bar or crashing again on a stripper’s Motel. I’m really a loser here.” I felt tears roll down my cheeks as I watched the rain pour down, thinking back to Yoongi’s harsh and distant words.

“I’m selling you off for a high prize to Seth Mikeson, I think that rapist is going to torture and ruin you. He wants to remove your organs and sell them to the black market too. Maybe the dark web is where your corpse will be. Make… sure I never ever see that ugly crying face of yours ever again. I don’t ever want to see you, Y/N Lee Meílíng.”

Meanwhile, Yoongi ate some medium rare steaks in his bedroom while watching some drama and action movie. He wore some gray sweatpants and no shirt, he was eating his juicy steak with some purple rice. He scoffed as he was bored, switching to a different channel as it showed a kissing scene between two lovers, his eyes stared blankly at the screen.

“Hmmph…” Yoongi thought back to me; I was in my yellow Puma hoodie in the grocery store, or our eyes gazing at each other on the night club. His smirk as I pushed Jayden off me, kicking him in the balls. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to my face or my fluttering dark brown eyes.

“Tch…” The scene quickly changed to making out as Yoongi finished his food, finally the female began to take the oversized blue hoodie, she was wearing, the man was just smirking as he was shirtless and waited for her. “You like that, Mingi?~” The woman cooed as she wasn’t wearing a bra and began grinding on him, the man groaning and cursing under his breath.

Yoongi couldn’t help but watch what the intimacy and the love unfold for them, he knew he’d never have something like those two, the position he was in and the way he was. Yoongi closed his eyes as he imagined me, dancing and showing off my hips to that Spanish song as he held onto my waist, sexily dancing with him as he swung me around just before pulling me close for passionate kiss.

“–What am I even doing? She’s different and happy with her stupid boyfriend, tch...” Yoongi got up, turning the TV off as he went downstairs to the kitchen. He set his plate down in the sink as he washed his hands and face, splashing it with cold water.

He saw Jungkook playing Animal Crossing on the Nintendo Switch as he scoffed. “Any signs of that Seth bastard, Jungkook?” He looked up playing his game as he thought for a second. “No Suga-Hyung, he hasn’t been in Seoul that much. Besides it’s hard to track him down, he seems to be lurking around.” He reported, redesigning his house in the game when Yoongi nodded and went upstairs into his bedroom again. He laid on the bed as he stared at the ceiling thinking hard.

Haven’t seen my mother in a while, I guess she doesn’t miss me anymore. Women are just stupid anyways...

The thoughts brought Yoongi back to the day before Valentines Day. “–Maybe I could be your Valentine?” Yoongi smirked, closing his locker as I chuckled softly. “You’re so funny, Yoongi–” when he lifted my chin before leaning in close to my adorable blushing face. “Maybe I would let you too…? Yoongi I—” I wrapped my arms around his back before looking into his eyes.

“Y/N! Come on or we’ll be late for PE!” Roseanne yelled from the end of the hallway, he pulled his hand away as I looked down, slightly flustered by his first move on me ever. “Yoongi, let’s talk after–” I said, taking a hold of his hand and looking deeply into his eyes. “–It’s alright, Y/N...” Yoongi mumbled timidly as he was being his distant and socially awkward self.

“I’ll see you later then, better not break that promise, Oppa!” I pointed my index finger at him before placing a quick kiss on his cheek before dashing off to Roseanne.

Yoongi shook his head as he covered his eyes with his right arm, covering them as he relaxed and fell asleep.

“You’re late!” I shouted, stamping my foot impatiently as Yoongi walked over, throwing his schoolbag over his right shoulder and scoffing loudly. “Sorry, was about to leave school and head home,” he mumbled quietly. “That’s no excuse...!” I sighed before hugging him closely, I stood on my tippy toes. “You’re so gloomy today, you think that I wouldn’t notice that...?” I pouted as he rested his chin on my shoulder, accepting my embrace.

“I don’t know, Y/N...” Yoongi replied as I pulled back, “you don’t have to pretend that you’re strong in front of me. You can lean on my shoulder if you ever need it, Yoongi.” I confessed, smiling at him as he averted his eyes away. “Thank you, Y/N...” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly as I took a hold of his hand, “come on, let’s get Tteokbokki together, Oppa!” I smiled sweetly, hugging his arm as he flashed me his unusual sweet gummy smile. “Yah, stop calling me Oppa, Y/N...” He whined as we headed to the street vendors.

“What the fuck?! Why am I dreaming of the past now? Y/N called me her Oppa, somehow I didn't want to her stop calling me that.” Yoongi sighed deeply as he rubbed the back of his neck looking around.

One hour later, I was typing down some Korean paragraphs as I reviewed some of the last English essays. I yawned, removing my contacts as I rubbed my forehead usually I get a headache from wearing them for too long. “God… My head’s hurting like hell!” I groaned out loudly in frustration as I went to grab some painkillers before swallowing them. I went to use the bathroom afterward when I noticed some blood in the toilet. I frowned and closed my legs tightly before grabbing a pad. I waddled to the shower room as I washed off my legs and used some toilet papers to dry my ass. I placed the pad on me and kept my legs closed until I grabbed a pair of black panties.

I placed my pad tight and secure on them then I changed into my panda pajamas. “Man… no wonder I felt so awful. I guess my hormones have been out of balance lately, stress, fear, and the overwhelming feeling of losing somebody you used to know.” I sighed and chopped some carrots, cucumbers, zucchinis, bell peppers, bean sprouts, sea kelp, mushrooms along with some dried Nori. I made my cozy and comfort food for when I felt awful; Bibimbap. I cooked some rice in the rice cooker as I grabbed a bowl, filling it as I placed the stir-fried vegetables. I added some soy sauce and mixed it with my chopsticks. It was around 07:45 PM, I yawned. I could feel my energy getting drained from my painful period. “I guess I should head to bed and fall asleep, hmm a message?” I checked my phone as I saw 18 unread messages from today and yesterday from our group chat ‘Anpanman’.

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:07: “Y/N! Lee Meílíng where are you? Please answer. Just at least send us a reply or something. You’re starting to worry us…”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:10: “Tell us you’re safe, don’t ignore us. Those gunshots were real and we heard them escaping the smoke. Why won’t you answer us, Y/N. Please say something, anything.”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:11: “Are you home with Daniel, please say so. I want a reply to anything a thumbs up or an emoji, just give us something so we know you’re still alive.”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:13: “We aren’t going to leave you until you give us an answer or a damn call, Y/N.”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:14: “LEE MEÍLÍNG Y/N!”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:16: “LEE MEÍLÍNG Y/N!”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:17: 21 Missed call(s)

🐨 😎 Joon sent a voice message, 03:18: “Listen Y/N, are you at a hospital? We will come and find you soon, please just rest and we’ll be there. I swear you’ll make it out alive.”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:20: “Oh my god… Y/N, the Mafia Gang was responsible for the gunshots and they’ve kidnapped you as their hostage. But don’t worry, they got us in their car we’re on our way. Please be safe…”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:21: “Fighting. Y/N, don’t be scared we’ll rescue you!”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:22: “We’re almost there, it’s a bumpy road, please be okay.”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:23: “Keep smiling, and please don’t cry, you’re a strong woman!”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:24: “We’re here at their mansion, which room is it you’re in?!”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:25: “Oh my goodness! Those ropes and the darkroom, Y/N they did hurt you?! Why aren’t you answering us? Are you unconscious!?”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:26: “Those bastards better not touch or lay a finger on you or I’ll kill them with no mercy!”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:27: “That half blonde jerk, he’s the one who’s with you right now? Isn’t he?! Please stay strong, they promised nothing would happen to you as long as the boss isn’t agitated. I’m not worried your cute face alone is going to save you from suffering and pain, I just know that!”

🐨 😎 Joon, 03:29: “Fuck, Y/N. We’re sorry that we can’t be with you know. But we’re watching you in a room with security cameras, that creep is in trouble for touching your thigh like that!”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 03:30: “This is really bad Y/N, we can no longer watch you. The boss has gotten a hold of you now… please God, I beg you, please keep her safe.”

I felt sad staring at those unread messages, my eyes getting filled with tears. I knew I had left them worried sick to death. I wrote a long message pouring out my feelings and heart into it.”

🌷🥰 Fierce Y/N, 20:08: “Oh my goodness, guys… You two… I just read these messages and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through and experience all that because of me, please you don’t have to forgive me. I’m just grateful to have you alive by my side; safe and sound, you two mean a lot to me.”

☀️ 😁 Hobi, 20:08: “Aish… Y/N you’re still awake? You should sleep, sorry we spammed your phone with so many messages. We overreacted a little, but you should know we would risk everything for you to be safe. 🤓 We love 💙 you.”

🐨 😎 Joon, 20:10: “Yeah you should go to bed. Let’s meet up tomorrow for some karaoke. Like Hoseok just said, we really care for you. 💓 Love you and sweet dreams.”

It was Sunday the 3rd of May 2020. The next morning I woke up to someone groaning and shouting in the living room. I woke up as I hurried to where the sound might be coming from and to no surprise it was him. Daniel Jones, my abusive, drunk, high, and sexist boyfriend. “Where tha fuck have ya been?! Ya fucking shit slut.” I looked down, hearing those words trying, not to worked up over this shit. My period was making things and words more sensitive than usual. I sighed as I looked at him, rubbing my left arm.

“We had a party at our University and a student got really drunk, so we took her to the hospital. And I stayed overnight because she didn’t want to be left alone in a hospital.” Daniel scoffed as he stared at me, he closed his eyes shut clearly wanting to fall asleep again.

“–Shit, next time make some fucking food before you leave. I was so fucking hungry! No stupid female should be allowed out of the house or not be able to cook sumn.” Daniel turned his back as he went to sleep, I had a frowned expression on as I went to the kitchen, I grabbed a beef cup noodles as I poured over the hot water and used the seal to keep it warm. I put on some black leggings, a large and loose hoodie as I headed out. Luckily the sun was shining its warm beams and I could eat outside, I texted Hoseok and sat on the bench near our apartment complex.

“Good morning, you up, my cute sunshine?” I could smell the lovely beef ramen as I hummed to myself, kicking my feet left and right as I saw the blue sky.

“Ohh~ so you’re already awake? How did you sleep last night? Did you dream of me? Feeling better? <3” I chuckled at his flirty text as I sent a voice message.

“Hehe, yes I did sleep well, and sadly no. I didn’t dream of you. You wanna meet up? I’m outside in the hot weather it’s so nice and beautiful.”

We both laughed and agreed to meet up at a nearby cafe around the park. I hugged Hoseok tighter, closer and longer than usual, he was shocked as he rubbed my back. “Everything ok, Y/N?” He tilted his head in confusion as he smiled looking at me. I realized what I was doing and took a step back. “Sorry I just had a rough morning, my period is making me really weird.” I looked down shyly and embarrassed he just rubbed my hair and chuckled. “It’s fine I don’t mind your soft hugs, come on I’ll treat you to some good breakfast.”

I nodded when we went inside, the menu was huge and had lots of options to choose between. We sat down near the window in the corner, Hoseok called the waitress. “A cafe latte and an iced caramel macchiato, please.” She nodded as she went behind the counter. “–So what are you getting Hoseok? The menu has so many different options and varieties!” He hummed and smiled, pointing at no. 18 and no. 2, a stack of American fluffy pancakes and 2 sunny side eggs. “Wow they look so yummy, I guess I’ll take no. 3 and no. 5, the Japanese soufflé pancakes and the 3 fruits Sando.”

The waitress came back with our drinks as she wrote down our orders and bowed. “I’ll be right back, thanks for waiting.”

I guess this place helped me calm down, Daniel was just being a misogynistic douchebag and sexist as usual. He wasn’t like that before he got addicted to drugs, heavy liquor and strong marijuana...

“–So everything ok? Y/N, you seem to be frustrated about something or sad nowadays… You know you can tell me anything, I’m willing to listen to you anytime.” Hoseok saw right through me and I guess he was right; I was frustrated with the whole Min Yoongi situation. I also was sad about Daniel Jones not treating me right.

“It’s just that… I don’t know… how to explain it anymore…” I shed tears as I looked down, closing my eyes and refusing to show Jung Hoseok my pathetic crying face. And it over someone that could care less about me too. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, whatever it is. Everything’s going to be alright, Y/N.” He got up from his seat and leaned in, hugging my head to his chest, I held onto him tightly. “I don’t think Daniel loves me anymore. I think he hates me and doesn’t want to be with me anymore...” Hoseok’s eyes were full of worries when he grabbed my shoulders now giving me a serious look.

“He… Daniel didn’t hurt you, right? What did he tell you?! What did he do??” I shook my head as I wiped my tears away. “He just yelled a lot of misogynistic and sexist stuff, like I’m only allowed to stay indoors like a good woman. That I should cook for him when he comes home drunk and high every day.” Hoseok clenched his fists, scoffing annoyed, he was very agitated. “Break up with him Y/N, you deserve better. And no guy should ever treat you like that and still be with you.” I nodded and flashed a soft smile, Jung Hoseok knows how to make me happy and my worries disappear without fail.

“Yeah, but where would I live? We share that apartment and I know he’d just come back to have a place to sleep and eat. Unless I get a hold of his keys too… Then I don’t know.” Hoseok patted my head and gave me a thumbs up. “You can live with me, it’s fine my sister kinda missed seeing you and cooking for us two.” I sat down, thinking for a bit I didn’t want to be a burden to Jung Hoseok or his beautiful sister. The waitress arrived with two trays as she placed the food on the table. “Thank you so much,” I bowed, admiring and glancing at the food.

“It’s fine, Hoseok you’ve done so much for me, I’ll be ok. Come one let’s eat.” Hoseok nodded, humming before eating his sunnyside eggs and he took a sip of his cafe latte. “Wow, this is so great it’s been a while since we ate together like this, ahaha.~” I smiled as I ate my Sando fruit sandwich, it was sweet and creamy along the fresh fruits too. I drank my a little of iced caramel macchiato.

“Yeah, it sure has, we need to do this more often.” We both smiled as we gave our cheers then we finished eating. “So what are you up to now? Any plans for today’s Sunday?” Hoseok cooed as he checked his phone for the time, it was 3:10 PM. “No not really should we hit the fitness, I think we might meet Namjoon.” He smiled agreeing as we walked towards the subway, taking it to Hoseok’s apartment. I figured out going back to see Daniel would be a bad idea.

“Sorry, if it’s a bit messy, been quite busy lately.” A few albums were scattered around the wooden floor and some hoodies on the couch. “It’s fine, Daniel makes more of a mess than you to be honest.” I scoffed, crossing my arms as we went inside his bedroom, he grabbed a yellow t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants. “Well, Noona isn’t home right now, so I hope it’s okay if you borrow some of my clothes. Is it alright with you?” I nodded, Hoseok was quite fashionable so I didn’t mind wearing some of his clothes. I was still wearing leggings.

I took my tank top hoodie off as Hoseok blushed red before looking away respectfully as I giggled. “This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me like that, you know we went to the beach before.” I wore his yellow t-shirt as I cooed. “Well yeah, but it’s been a while since we last went to the beach, you’re so gorgeous as usual, heh heh.~” We chuckled and headed down before taking the subway. About 20 minutes passed as we arrived in front of the fitness. We were greeted by a familiar face, Namjoon smiled as his dimples were showing off. “What a lovely surprise, you two here for trouble or to work out?” I and Hoseok looked at each other as we nodded.

“Maybe both? Both are great ahaha.” We snickered when Namjoon laughed as he showed us around, pointing at the treadmills and weights. “I think I wanna use the treadmills.” He smiled as he set the settings and it was ready to use. “There ya go.” I thanked him, Hoseok took some weights as he sat down on the small stool and lifted them up and down. I began to run, focusing on Daniel’s harsh and stupid words it made me run faster like fuel to a train.

In front of me, a guy started to run too. Our eyes met and I gasped. It was him, the guy I saw before being kidnapped those light brown eyes, cherry pink hair, and the bunny like face.

“It’s okay, I got you now, Noona.”

“You…” I mumbled, staring at him with a mean look. Jungkook looked down as he took one of his headphones out. “–What is it, Noona?” He still used honorifics, even though we were practically strangers. “What… What are you doing here?” He scoffed as his eyebrows furrowed, he sighed. “It’s Jeon Jungkook. Noona, I’m here to work out, what do you expect?” I sighed, feeling a bit dumbfounded at my question, he didn’t seem dangerous but he was a Mafia member after all. I could only think of Min Yoongi but I slowed down the treadmill and got off. I sat on the bench drinking some water. “Everything ok, Y/N?” Namjoon patted my shoulder, I nodded and said that I was just exhausted from yesterday. I drank some water as Hoseok looked over at Jungkook. “Isn’t that one of the Bangtan members, the youngest one to be exact?”

Namjoon nodded explaining that he comes here quite often, girls and women always stare at his tattooed body and abs. “But aren’t they getting caught or arrested?” Namjoon shook his head as he explained. “No. Not really, I mean as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble and stays lowkey, there’s no reason to.”

I ran for a half hour as I stopped, I was sweaty and panted heavily. “I think that’s it for today.” I went to the women’s changing room as I took my clothes off and began showering before washing myself thoroughly.

“Well Boss, it seems you’ve been so stressed out lately, maybe you just need to get laid. So we’ve bought some girls over for you. This is Lola.” Taehyung said as he smirked, taking a woman’s hand. She had huge breasts probably a size D and an hourglass shaped body. She most likely got surgery for that kind of body. “Why the fuck, did you do that? I don’t fucking need it.” Yoongi growled as he went to his bedroom and stared at the ceiling, his mind wandered somewhere else.

It was the summer before graduating High school, the 5 of us went to Jeju Island’s famous beach during a school trip...

“What? You think I look lame?” I huffed, with my hands on my hips sassily as I lowered my sunglasses. “Th-That’s not what I said... I said that you look alluring in that color...” Yoongi said quietly, averting his eyes as I blushed red.

“Thank you,” I pursed my lips, rubbing my arm as he was clearly checking me out. “Come on you two, let’s go!” Rosanne said, grabbing my arm as we ran to the waves of water. “Come on, Yoongi-Hyung!” Hoseok shouted, jumping on his back as they ran to the water with Namjoon.

“You know we can do it tonight if you want to, Yoongi...” I said, hugging Yoongi from behind as he was extremely timid, “are you sure? You didn’t even give Daniel your answer yet...” He mumbled randomly, “forget about it then...” I looked down and was about to leave his room when he pulled me by the wrist. “–Don’t go, please...” He said, hugging me tightly as I turned around to face him. I was beyond flustered and frustrated with him, I stood on my tippy toes before kissing him.

Now Lola sat on the side of the bed as it brought Yoongi back to the present. “Could you please not leave me anymore...?” He whispered quietly as she smirked, thinking she could finally win the famous Bangtan leader’s heart. He sighed deeply as he sweated a bit before saying something. “–Y/N, do you love me?” The woman played along and answered happily. “Yes, I do. I’m going to make you feel good, just relax.” She leaned in kissing his ears and his biceps, he obviously didn’t wanna kiss the mouth of a woman he met just like that.

Lola started to unbutton his pants as she rubbed her hand on his boxer’s, she smirked. Yoongi was lost in thoughts, thinking about the past and Y/N, he didn’t notice her pulling his pants and boxers down. Just when she was about to suck his dick he immediately yelled and threw her off him, she fell down on her butt.

“W-What’s wrong? Min Yoongi…!?” Yoongi shook his head, clearly angered as he pulled his boxers and pants up again and slammed the door behind him. He went outside in the dark. He walked a few blocks until he reached the bridge. Lola started to cry as Jimin came inside, telling her to leave before any more trouble begins. The wind was cold and cool, he sighed and stared at the Han River. “What the fuck has happened to me? All I can think of is her.” He muttered to himself, clenching his hands around the railing and sighing heavily.

I exhaled sharply and I ran for a few minutes as I started to sweat, I wiped it off with my wrist. I just wanted him to disappear I wish I’d never met Daniel knowing it would just turn out like that. I went home and showered thoroughly, washing my back roughly with the lychee soap. I shaved my legs too as I used some olive oil to make them super smooth afterwards. I looked myself in the mirror as I went outside the wind blowing through my cold wet hair.

When there stood a familiar face my eyes widened and his widened too, I wasn’t mistaken. It was him, it was really him the Leader of the Mafia Bangtan Gang, Min Yoongi.

I was very scared of him, he did say he didn’t want to see me ever again. But why is it that my feet are moving towards him, why is it that my heart won’t stop beating so fast for someone like him...?

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gauntie-o-dimm · 5 years ago

Text

Andrew Milton | Toxic

You’re just a hostage in the Pinkerton’s plan, the Van Der Linde gang will certainly come looking for you. Andrew Milton will never be lured into your little pleasure trap. At least, that’s what he likes to think.

Word count: 2900+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, choking, hate sex

Thud.

Your head was practically drumming in pain as you regained consciousness. Every beat of your heart seemed to slam into your skull, crushing your brains. The side of your face felt warm and sticky.

Slowly, you managed to open your eyes, taking in your surroundings. Immediately, you noticed your own discomfort, body slouched against the wall in an awfully unnatural position, cold stone practically digging into your spine. You tried to shift, soon met by the sound of jingling chains that bound your wrists above you, chafing your skin with every movement.

You gritted your teeth as memories rushed back to you. The deal, the perfect plan to fetch the money from Blackwater, and then, a trap. You had been knocked out by something undeniably hard - the handle of a gun, perhaps? The darkness that had followed was in that case far from welcoming.

And now, you were taken prisoner, as it appeared. Would Dutch come looking for you? Hell, if he didn’t, Arthur most certainly would. Still, you had no idea what had happened otherwise than the failure of the plan, Dutch’s plan. One of his fucking magnificent plans. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

The creaking of hinges made the hairs of your neck stand on end. You hadn’t even noticed the door in the corner of the room, the frame now revealing a man that you had never despised as much now.

“Mr Milton.” you mockingly greeted, voice dripping with venom. Said man entered the room, stepping closer and now you saw two other men that had joined him. They carried rifles and on their hips, revolvers. If you were to escape, you had no chance of survival.

“Miss (L/n), if I recall correctly. Or (Y/n), but that would take away all of the professionalism.”

“What the fuck happened? And what do you want from me?”

Milton chuckled, shaking his head. “Dutch van der Linde will certainly come searching for his little damsel in distress. I know what you mean to those bastards. It’s just a matter of time before we can pump ‘em full of lead on our own grounds.”

“They’re not as stupid as you are.” you taunted as he approached, his eyes boring into yours coldly, as if he was trying to see right into your soul. The gesture made shivers run down your spine. “Really, detective. I am thoroughly offended that you think that Dutch van der Linde is stupid enough to get me out of here.”

An icy stare was all you got, Andrew Milton unfazed by your words. He waved his hand to his men to leave the room, and they closed the door behind them. “Listen, Miss (Y/n).” he began, cracking his knuckles while he stepped in front of you, noses nearly touching. He reeked of cigarettes and cologne - you were embarrassed to admit to yourself that he smelled quite nice - wait, what were you even thinking? This man would kill you without a second thought while you pondered over the pleasantness of his scent - that was something that you really didn’t want.

“Dutch van der Linde is coming to save you and there is nothing you can do to stop him. Once he’s dead, well... I will most certainly enjoy killing you, after.”

“Why don’t you just kill me right now?” you questioned, eyes narrowing as you studied his face. Despite being a son of a bitch, you had to admit that the man carried a certain charm, something intimidating in a way that you had never seen before. It caused you to clench your thighs together, much to your dismay.

“Well, Miss (Y/n).” he muttered, his gloved hand touching the side of your face, an immediate sting searing through your head. “Word like that goes out way too fast. The whole trouble we went through will be for naught if Dutch called wind of your unfortunate death.” As you flinched away from his prodding into your wound, he tutted. “That’s a nasty wound you got there, Miss (Y/n). Too bad it will make a permanent scar on that pretty face of yours.”

A confident grin spread over your face. “You callin’ me pretty, huh? And you keep referencing to me as Miss (Y/n), not just (Y/n). If I didn’t know you this heartless, I’d say you have a thing for me.”

A humorless smile spread over his chapped lips, his face moving closer to yours. “And what if I did, huh? It isn’t like you can stop me from doing whatever I want to you.”

You grinned a little, leaning in closer to his face, as if you were about to kiss him. “Mr Milton, I had no idea you were able to feel things like that!”

The first strike he hit across your face was nearly painless, but the second slap he delivered was right upon your wound, causing you to hiss in pain and the previous thudding of your head to temporarily continue.

“You like it rough, huh?” you said with a chuckle, “When was the last time you fucked something else than your own fist?”

He sucked in his pockmarked cheeks, looking at your with eyes full of fury. “Oh, I am going to enjoy torturing you, (Y/n).” You widened your eyes in fake surprise, bottom lip pouting in a way to mock him. “No Miss this time? That’s no fun.” you murmured, “But I had never expected an asshole like yourself to be into that kind of stuff. Tell me, does it make your prick hard if you treat women like that?”

“You better shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.” you mused, well aware of the sexual tension that sentence held. You had seen your fair share of men in your life and you recognized the twisting face of Andrew Milton to contain confusion, anger, but all the more interesting: lust.

And thus you batted your eyelashes - if you were going to hang in here for a while longer, you might as well have some fun, and the whole idea of a man like Andrew Milton himself mustering such things towards you, well... It didn’t relieve you of the aching in the pit of your stomach.

“You are an odd lady, Miss (Y/n).” Milton spoke, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment. “First you call me miss, now you call me a lady... Really, what am I to you, Mr Milton?” You were able to bring up your leg enough to softly run your bare foot along the side of his calf, enough to make the man in question let out a groan of frustration.

He shot forward, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. You whistled through your teeth in an attempt to humor him, but you would lie if you’d say that the entire scene taking place didn’t turn you on - you were soon imagining yourself against the wall, his body against you until you were both sweaty and at a loss for words.

“You are...” Milton paused, studying your face from up close. Something stirred in his expression, something way calmer than you had ever seen him become. “You are a devil with the face of an angel, a bloody villain with eyes like heaven... Your soul is as dark as the desire you spark within me.”

You withheld with every fiber in your being from laughing pitifully, knowing that the man was serious - Milton always was. You and the gang had learned the hard way that this man was not to be messed with - but the last thing he said drummed within your skull like the headache that had been there for quite some time now.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the Pinkerton agent mistook it for something else - before you could comprehend what was going on, his tongue had already slipped past your lips, the taste of tobacco and whisky soon mixed with your saliva, the urge to fight soon dying down, the wish to kiss him back starting to grow immediately.

What you were doing was wrong, that you knew. But how could something wrong feel so damn good. Andrew’s hands were soon around your cheeks, tilting your face so he could delve in deeper and he tasted you with a hunger that made you realize that this man had been a long way from being loved, touch-starved to put it in other terms. The soft moan that escaped you was not helping to calm him down, either.

Whatever went through Andrew Miltons head was unknown to you, apart from that you were probably doing something right to turn him on - he nudged your legs apart with his knee and immediately put some pressure on the aching, searing hot spot in between. You whimpered against him, not only from the friction, but also from the lack of oxygen you soon began to feel. The man kissed you with such fury that he completely disregarded of your need to breathe.

And with every passing second, the thought of what you were doing faded away in a pool of pleasure. For a moment, you completely forgot you were imprisoned by this man, but the jangle of the chains as you tried to move your hands pulled you out of this blissful state. For the first time since he pressed his face to yours, Milton pulled back, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips as he did so.

“Unshackle me?” you said with a pout, gaze momentarily falling to his groin, that was obviously growing in his pants. His lustful eyes flickered to anger again, as if he just now realized what was going on. He gathered himself, taking in fiery breaths, brows knitting together in that same strict way they often rested upon you, or Dutch, or anyone from the gang for that matter. He radiated hate and fury.

“You fucking demon. You put a spell on me, didn’t you? Trying to glamour me, mend me to your will?”

“I think you’ve been reading too many fairy tales, Mr Milton.” you said with a smirk. “If I was a demon, you’d be long dead. For what it’s worth, I wish I was a demon right now, so I could take that handsome head of yours off your shoulders.”

As if he hadn’t struck you enough, he slammed the back of his hand against your cheek again, his teeth gritting as he eyed your unfazed reaction. “You fucking bitch! I should kill you right now!” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Then I suggest you go right ahead. But who is going to take care of little Andrew Jr, then?” You eyed at his erection. Milton was seething, face beet red and you could’ve sworn you saw a vein throb in his neck. Hm, how would he react if you pressed your lips against it?

Words seemed to fail the Pinkerton agent for once. “That’s what I thought, detective.” you murmured, pulling the man from his state of confusion. Milton spat: “You are only allowed to refer to me by my last name.”

“Or what?” you taunted, “Are you going to punish me?”

With a groan, he smashed his lips onto yours again, teeth clashing together in the roughness of the kiss, but you didn’t mind at all. He was quick to pull your pants to your ankles, leaving you butt-naked, shivering against the coldness of the prison tiles. You were able to shimmy one foot out of the trousers - that would be enough for now, anyways.

A gloved hand made its way in between your thighs and made you shiver as he gathered some of your sinful excitement on the rough material. Your confident posture was fickle now, knees soon bucking at the friction. “Look at you.” Milton darkly murmured, “Such a needy whore.” He pressed painfully against your clit, but you regained your composure and braced yourself against his fiddling. You wouldn’t fall to him, you told yourself.

But it would be a scene full of lies and deceit, you figured as Milton pushed you up against the wall, the shackles around your wrists causing the skin to break. There would be no love behind the thrusts he would make into you, there would be no sweet whispers or an afterglow. You didn’t give a fuck about it, either. All you needed was to ease the desire of your painfully aroused core, and a piece of Andrew Milton left in you. Who knew what you could do in the future after having such intimacy?

With one hand, Milton undid his belt, and his pants, and they were soon around his ankles, pooling at his boots. You licked your lips at the sight of his erection. Men with big mouths like him usually had tiny pricks, but you figured Milton was an exception. Sure, you’ve had seen bigger, but you swallowed in anticipation nevertheless.

He made no time for assuring, nor for small talk or foreplay, soon nudging the head of his cock in between your labia, coating his length with your slick. You were surprised at the sound that left his lips as soon as he pushed into you, rolling his hips in till the hilt until you felt the dark curls on his lower abdomen brush the sensitive bud hidden between your folds. You chewed the inside of your cheek at the scratch.

Your bodies fit together quite nicely, you ironically thought. The cold feeling of the wall behind you alongside the heat that came from the detectives body left you wanting more in no time. Tiny beads of sweat covered Milton’s forehead as he held you against the hard surface, pumping in and out of you with rapid speed.

The least thing you had expected him to do was to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze, causing you to gasp; or at least try to. The chains that bound you jangled as you tried moving your arms, slight panic washing over you as you realized that this man could literally fuck you until you were dead right here and now with no direct consequence.

The fear in your eyes seemed to egg the man on, encouraging him to only pound harder. The slap of skin against skin echoed, but he didn’t seem to mind, only grunting and panting until he opened his stupid mouth to speak.

“You’re looking so obedient right now, like a fucking dog. Fuck, the way you clench around me. I can snap your neck right now.”

You spat in his face, saliva dribbling down your chin. “Fuck you.” you sneered in between gasps for air, your vision becoming blurry.

“You are, right Miss (Y/n)? I wonder what Dutch would do if he found out about this. I would have so much fun seeing you all turned against each other.”

You struggled to breathe even more and you began to see stars. Lips turning blue, just like the spots in your neck where he was squeezing. The chains were noisy in the harshness of his thrusts and you pondered if anyone would come check up on this whole scene before you would slip into unconsciousness.

“It would be a sight to see, witness Mr van der Linde put a bullet in your skull like the treacherous bastard he is, betraying his own family, and then, I can kill him as well. Two birds with one stone... But to see that--”

He released your throat, causing you to heave for oxygen, lungs burning at the sensation of fresh air.

“--I need you alive.”

His now-free hand chose to tug your bare leg over his hip instead, allowing him to ride himself into you at another angle. This nearly caused you to lose your mind once again, but in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Whom was really controlling whom, you wondered.

And in the building of tension and unexpressed emotion, you felt an orgasm begin to form in the pit of your stomach. It began at your lower abdomen, soon spreading to lower regions. You just hoped Milton would be merciful enough to let you reach it.

But would you be able to lie to yourself? Milton was ruthless, unable to feel empathy, or anything for that matter.

Unannounced, he thrust his hips upwards in one final jolt, his length throbbing inside of you as you felt him spill himself into your depths. He grunted through gritted teeth, and as soon as his high was over - short but intensely - he pulled out of you, releasing your body like you were some kind of animal he had accidentally touched.

You swallowed your whimper at the loss of contact, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Needless to say, you immediately felt filthy, not able to clean yourself off of him. The pleasure that had been pulsating through you faded like a thin layer of snow in the searing sun.

Andrew Milton was still panting as he reached for his trousers, putting them on again, disregarding your climax completely.

“You know, Miss (Y/n).” he stated, looking you firmly in the eye as he hoisted your pants up again, gaze as cold as it had been before, as if he hadn’t just emptied himself within you. “I certainly hope Dutch will wait getting you out of here for another day or what. After all, what harm can it do?”

He tipped his hat, his stupid bowl hat, and turned to leave the room, abandoning you utterly bothered and angry.

“Get the fuck back here, Milton!” you screamed, hatred welling up in your chest like it had been pierced with an iron bar. “Finish what you fucking started!”

It was no use, you knew. Maybe, just maybe, next time...

#andrew milton x reader #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #smut

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keith-the-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Glimmer Hoes Master Plan| Crack Fanfic Mini Series

Episode One: [X]

Episode Two: [X]

Episode Three: American Tour

Episode Four: [X]

Episode Five: [X]

Warnings:

This story will contain violence, sex scenes and a shit ton of foul language. It may also cause you to lose a couple of brain cells and fall into a state of confusion. Do not read if you are under the age of 16. Read at your own risk. Or Keef will eat your grandma.

Cast:

Mick Jagger

Keith Richards

Charlie Watts

Ronnie Wood

Bill Wyman

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

After the huge massacre in California, The Rolling Stones were on the run again. Keef was super ugly and devastated from his buddy, Mick, being brutally killed by the sus one. Who was going to sing for them? Charlie and Bill were sitting in the back seat with Mick's body next to them. Their van had broke down when they were out camping in the desert. So they elected Keef to push the van to the nearest town.

"Ah jeez..... Now who is going to be our whore front man?" Keef asked while he struggled to push the van over a speed bump.

"You do it" Billl said as he keep trying to get the body from touching him.

The Rolling Stones stopped by a mechanic shop that was also a coffee shop. California was burning hot. The sun was shining down on Keef so he took his clothes off. Bill and Charlie stepped out of the van and stood in front of the coffee shop.

"Hmm.... Some coffee wouldn't be so bad right now." Bill said to Charlie.

The only problem was, they didn't have any money on them. But Keef did so this whole sentence doesn't work at all. He took out a bunch of crumbled up dollar bills from his underpants. Penis money was what he always called it in case of emergencies. Bill didn't want to touch it so he told him to hold onto it. They walked into the coffee shop. There was no one in there but some weird guy with a big nose reading a news paper. They all sat down at the counter and waited for someone to attend them. A lady with a cheese ball outfit went up to them to take their order. Keef really wanted bananas. Bill and Charlie just ordered eggs and bacon like normies do at coffee shops. Keef kept spinning around his stool and noticed that the big nose whore was looking at them. He got sus so he just walked in the bathroom to take a piss. Or at least that what he made big nose whore think. Keef walked over to the mechanic shop to check on their van. Then he remembered that he left Mick in there. He went into a panic. Bill and Charlie had already taken him out of the van but didn't tell him. Keef searched the van but didn't see him in there. Charlie went outside to see what kind of shenanigans he's up to this time. Keef turned into a mad monkey.

"Jesus! Calm down you fooking dumb fuck of a monkey!" Charlie said. "If you're looking for whore Mick, we hid him behind the dumpster until the van gets fixed."

Keef just stared at him. He felt better now that he knew that his side hoe was okay. He walked around the mechanic shop and saw a bunch of car parts. He got a very good idea. He grabbed the parts, some oil cans, and his guitars. Told ya they might come in handy for later. Charlie stood there in confusion watching Keef once again do something stupid.

"Be hold!!" Keef yelled.

Charlie rolled his eyes at him. He seriously wondered why he's even in a shitty ass band with a very stupid monkey. Keith removed the tarp from his very fantastic creation.

"Wot in the actual fuck did you just make?" Charlie asked sounding annoyed.

Keef chuckled. "You dummy! It's Mick!" He said as he leaned on it only to knock it over. He has built a cyborg Mick as a replacement for the real Mick. Charlie was not amused. Bill came out of the coffee shop with the big nose whore holding a knife to his neck. He was pretty calm about it. Charlie panicked.

"Woah woah! Hey! easy there cowboy! Put the knife down! We can talk this through!" Keef said as he slowly walked up to them.

Charlie was examining the piece of junk. He was trying to figure out how it worked. Cyborg Mick smacked him hard in the head and did Jagger moves.

"Wot is that?" Bill asked as big nose whore held the knife closer to his neck. He remained calm.

Keef explained since they no longer had the real Mick, they could use a artificial one. He programmed it to be exactly like Mick. He even gave him a dick since Mick LOVES to be screwing around with random ass hoes. Charlie cut him off by yelling at him that Bill is being held hostage.

"Oh.... right.... that....." Keef said with a nervous chuckle.

He slowly approached them but big nose whore kept walking away. Keef threw a punch only to get his arm sliced by the knife.

"Owie! Damn! I need this arm to play guitar!! Son of a bitch!" He yelled as he threw a rock at Charlie.

"You play guitar?" Big Nose Whore asked. Bill used the opportunity to run to Charlie and jumped in his arms. Just imagine that though lol. Keef looked at them both confused but he ignored them. Cyborg Mick went up to Keef and big nose whore.

"Greetings, I am Mick Jagger, yes this Monkey whore plays guitar." He said.

Big Nose Whore put his knife away and began to laugh his ass off.

"Well why didn't you say so!? Bitch I play guitar as well!" He said.

Bill and Charlie rolled their eyes. Just what they needed, another dumbass. The van was up and running again. The Rolling Stones were relieved to finally have a working vehicle. Keef and big nose whore became besties and offered to give him a ride. The only thing he wanted to ride was- okay don't be nasty. He accepted the offer and hopped in the van. He sat next to Bill who was already annoyed by his presence. Cyborg Mick kept smacking Charlie in the head.

"Jesus! Keith get your damn sex robot under control!" He yelled.

Keith scratched his head trying to figure out why Cyborg Mick did that. He figured that he set it to fightey mode instead of normal Mick mode. He turned the switch which got Keith's balls kicked. He screamed in pain and Big Nose Whore just laughed at him. Charlie seriously wondered how he even ended up being stuck with a bunch of idiots. Bill also wondered the same thing. They also later learned that Big Nose Whore's name is Ronnie because of course it was. They also learned that he bites people. They had to find that one out the hard way. Keith began to discuss how they're going to be touring with a broken robot and a missing rhythm guitarist. Ronnie got a splendid idea. He drank orange juice. So really he didn't have a splendid idea. I know how to grammar properly.

"Assholes I can be your rhythm guitarist." He suggested.

Charlie said no. He was not about to deal with another dumbass that was going to kill his bestie. He just wanted to go home. Cyborg Mick yelled at Charlie to shut up and he doesn't get to make the decisions around here. A tear ran down his face. Cyborg Mick accepted Ronnie to be a part of the band.

"Sweet! So where are we headed?" He said with a wide smile.

Cyborg Mick started doing weird beeping sounds. Keef programmed him to be their GPS which he didn't even know he could do. They got directions to a small motel near a small town in San Francisco. They didn't question it and drove there.

"Ooooh motels are quite fun, they have all sorts of things to do there." Ronnie explained.

"I hate motels." Bill replied as he lit a cigarette.

"Oh shut it you! You love going there to screw every single girl you lay eyes on!" Keef yelled.

"I have a wife." Charlie said.

"Why screw girls when we can screw each other!" Ronnie replied.

The whole van turned into an argument about fucking people. Cyborg Mick just kept driving without saying a single work to them. He was super horny though, just like the real Mick. Only thing is, this one actually has a dick, unlike the real Mick. They parked in front of the lobby. The van went silent. The Rolling Stones all slowly looked at each other. Who was going to go in there and ask for rooms?

"Alright....." Keef said in a low voice. "In the count of three...... One-"

They all touch their noses as they yelled "NOT IT" even though Keith wasn't even at three. That meant that he had to go in there and ask for rooms.

"Ugh! Son of a bitch! Why do I have to do everything!? Jesus you all don't work for shit! The only thing you all are able to do is be a bunch of whores!" Keith said as he stepped out of the van. Then there was another problem. Who was going to share rooms? Bill and Charlie looked at each other. Guess they're sharing rooms. Keith stood in front of the lobby as the secretary checked for any available rooms. Turns out there was one room with a king sized bed and one with two singles. Keith sighed deeply and paid without any further questions. He walked over to the van to tell them about the rooms. Ronnie claimed the room with two singles. Cyborg Mick also claimed that room. That left with Bill, Charlie and Keith with the room with a king sized bed. This was going to be an awkward night. Bill and Charlie told Keith to fuck off. They didn't want a monkey to be sleeping in the same bed as them. Cyborg Mick put his arm around Keith.

"Me and you can share beds...." He said seductively.

Keith actually didn't mind sleeping in the same bed with Mick. He's his buddy and he's known him since they were in nappies. So he agreed to doing so. Bill hates them both so much that he is planning on doing some murdering. The Rolling Stones went to their room. Cyborg Mick went a little overboard and took Keith to bed with him. Ronnie just stood there eating Doritos that he found in the bathroom. Just another normal day for him.

"Oooh! Make sure to not scratch him up a bit with all of those metal bolts in there....." Ronnie suggested.

Keith just glared at him but then he got a stupendous idea. He removed his clothes. Ronnie was completely lost and wondered why he just did that. Cyborg Mick got turned on by such view.

"Wow! The Rolling Stones really are a wild band! I'm so glad I am a part of it!" Ronnie yelled in excitement. He looked around the room. There were a bunch of used rubbers stuck on them. Beautiful decorating. Cyborg Mick stretched his arm out and pulled Ronnie into bed. They all laid on top of each other and got really funky. Bill and Charlie, who were in a room over, were sitting on the bed watching the telly. Strange noises were coming from the room that Keith was staying in. Bill shook his head in disappointment.

"We haven't even been here for 2 seconds and they're already screwing around? Jesus can there be a-" Bill said as Charlie cut him off with a smack. Bill is a big hoe so the things he is complaining about are extremely irrelevant so he cannot be talking and that is on period 💅. They heard a loud boom outside where the pool was. Charlie was certain that Keith, Mick and Ronnie were up to no good so he went out to check. He saw a telly on the first floor. Turns out Led Zeppelin were also staying in those motels and were the ones who threw the telly out their window. Charlie hated them. He went back inside of his room only to see a naked Bill laying in bed with a bunch of rose petals and candles around him. He was genuinely confused.

"Hey babe..... Why don't you come over here and have some fun eh?" Bill said in a low voice.

Charlie just wanted to go home because according to him, he is happier there then when he is with the stones. Haha I'm using his words against him. He sighed and just went with the flow because Yolo. They really got into it up until they heard screaming from the other room. Bill and Charlie looked at each other.

"Oh wow, they seem to be having a very splendid and wild time...." Bill said.

Charlie rolled his eyes and decided to just ignore them. Keith bursted into the room. He was covered in blood. Bill and Charlie just stared at him with a scared look.

"I-its not wot it looks like....." Bill said with an awkward chuckle.

Keith was breathing heavily and couldn't gather his words. He just began to babble and making hand gestures and so on and so forth.

"Jesus! Use your words bitch!" Charlie yelled.

Keith finally calmed down. "That fucking robot piece of junk just tried to kill me!" He yelled.

Charlie looked at him from head to toe. He was seriously done with The Rolling Stones. He didn't even want to know why he was naked and covered in blood. Ronnie came running in also naked and covered in blood. Charlie just sighed in disappointment. Why is he in a band full of dumbasses.

"Why are you both naked and covered in blood?" Bill asked as he lit a cigarette.

Turns out Cyborg Mick was set in fightey mode instead of sexy time mode and had tried to kill them both by using chainsaws and cheeseballs. He managed to injure Ronnie which caused a whole bunch of blood splattering meaning that he is slowly dying. Charlie had to act fast because clearly these idiots are not going to do so. They all put their clothes back on but Keith couldn't find his pants. Too bad he deserves it. The Rolling Stones jumped in the van that had been vandalized by Led Zeppelin.

"Ughh those fucking hippie bastards!" Charlie yelled as he set the van to drive. Keith held Ronnie's hand. He didn't want to lose him. He has only known him for 5 hours. Ronnie didn't seem to have a problem about the fact that he got attacked by a Mick robot. He just kept smiling and bullied Charlie for having a unibrow.

#the rolling stones #mick jagger #keith richards #charlie watts #ronnie wood #bill wyman #cursed #cursed post #cursed content #crack fanfic #rolling stones fanfic #fanfic #rolling stones

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