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erenjaegerwifee · 3 months

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Brat Tamer

Survive the Night: Day 4

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ hate fucking, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, degradation, rough sex, explicit language, fingering, p in v, overstimulation, bondage, slightly jealous Neteyam, begging, slapping, spitting, blowjob, marking, mentions of blood, facial, this is consensual sex! It’s just very rough

Word Count: 5.4k

Disclaimer: all my characters are aged-up! If for whatever reason this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read my work. Any negative feedback will be blocked from my page. thank you!

Event Masterlist

“Oh, please Neteyam spear me” you roll your eyes at your future mate. For some reason Eywa thought it would be a good idea to make Tsahik conjure up a vision of you and Neteyam being a mated couple a ruling the clan together, with all your non-existent babies, apparently the number is yet to be determined.

“Can you just back off and let me hunt princess? I’m more than capable of feeding a psycho shrew such as yourself” he said condescendingly. “You are so fucking full of yourself; we could have been eating an hour ago if you didn't scare away my prey with your fucking wheezing”

“You whacked me in the stomach with your bow what the fuck were you expecting me to do” his comment makes you laugh at the memory, “it’s not my fault you're a bitch, take that shit up with your daddy” you smile at him wickedly when Lo’ak spoke up, “damn just fuck already, end your misery” he said to both of us.

“Shut up Lo’ak go home, you aren’t even helping” Neteyam said to his brother while you were making fake gagging sounds at his comment, “yuck- I don’t want this man anywhere near me, let alone fucking me” you gag again making Lo’ak laugh. “You know, you talk a big game for someone who has never seen a dick” Neteyam looks directly at you.

You turn around looking for whoever he’s talking to with such audacity, settling with the fact he must be talking to himself, “are you calling me a virgin? Cause I can assure you I’ve had hotter sex than you that’s for sure” you cross your arms over your chest looking at him smugly.

“How do you know I don’t have hot sex princess?” Neteyam copies your action crossing his own arms over his chest. “Uhm well let’s see, firstly I don’t think it's possible to have good sex when you have a stick that big up your ass and also, you’ve never fucked me” you flip your hair over your shoulder sassily.

“Whatever you pompous bitch” Neteyam walks off bow in hand with every intention of catching your dinner. “You are such a fucking goblin” you tail behind him leaving Lo’ak laughing on the floor.

Lo’ak isn’t the only person who catches kicks off your misery. The entire Sully family laugh at you from time to time. They have a front seat row to the drama that is you and Neteyam. When your mate ship was announced both your families joint together to build you a hut, the first hut you will be living in together. Since it is a known fact you are always at each other’s throats, they built it right next to the Sully family hut. But it was only in case they had to break up one of your numerous fights. The sully family tends to hear everything that goes on in your hut, every small argument you have, every altercation that turns into a screaming match between you too.

You and Neteyam sleeping on same sleeping mat but he made sure it was big enough so you won’t have to touch each other, even going as far as to build a pillow wall. Even while your families both know you don’t get along, the rest of the clan, besides close friends, do not know. They are well under the impression you and Neteyam are very much in love, we couldn’t have the clan losing trust in the leadership, it would just be another problem. It’s one of the only things you both agree on.

Clan members have been congratulating you both since the announcement, they bring loads of gifts like things for your hut, some of the older women have taught you to make things for our future husband, teaching you how to repair his arm guards and cummerbund, making loincloths, which sometimes you do occasionally have to do. They even go as far to bring you both food.

Neteyam is set to take up the mantle of Olo’eyktan in 3 months which is when you will also ascend to Tsahik alongside him. You are meant to be mated before that happens which is why you’ve already moved in together; you are meant to get used to living with each other to avoid slip ups.

For something that was sprung on both families, they have done extensive planning to make sure you become accustom with each other, almost as if they expected it. Never the less, you both have now settled into a routine of sorts. You both wake up around the same time and you make breakfast or one tired morning, go to the sully hut and you eat there. Then You get ready for you clan duties all done while bickering with each other about small things like usually. After that you both go out into the clan playing happy couple.

At dinner time you usually are the one to cook whatever he brings home from his hunt during the day. If neteyam wasn’t so infuriating you would have thought about how domestic it was, how much you would have loved a life like this. A loving husband, a few kids.

“You what, if you would just sit still for a few minutes, I could catch us some fucking dinner” neteyam says in an irritated tone. “Don’t curse on my dinner I have to eat it” You counter, “No sweetheart the real curse is eating your cooking” you gasp dramatically at him comment, your hands come over your heart, “you love my cooking you blue ape, don’t fucking lie.” you point at him.

“Can you just sit here and shut the fuck up so we can go home, I’m about to leave your annoying ass out here and spend the night at my parents” he rolls his eyes at you, ignoring your cooking comment because he knows you’re right. “UGHH FINE” you dramatically drop down on the rock that was conveniently situated behind you.

“Ugh fine” he mocks you sassily his voice is pitched and his hands sway in the air as he turns around making you roll your eyes. You wouldn’t tell him this, but neteyam is a good hunter, it shouldn’t take him that long to catch dinner. In the mean time you sit quietly on the rock making flower crowns from the nearby flower tree.

When he comes back you both go home and you make dinner, “It’s kind of early can’t we just eat after the party?” you ask him after you are done cooking. “No, the food will get cold” you sigh not feeling to flight with him about it and you bicker about what you should wear for Lo’ak’s birthday party.

At the party you and Neteyam split up to mingle with your respective friends and not have to deal with each other all night long, you dance and laugh while slipping from your cup of very strong alcohol. When you start to feel high you get a tap on your shoulder making you turn around.

“Hey y/n where is your husband?” you make eye contact with one of Neteyam’s hunting buddies, At’ok. “Hey um I don’t know he was around here somewhere” you shrug thinking he was just looking for Neteyam. Your future mate has grown to dislike the man quite a bit with the way he constantly stares at you, under no condition is he admitting to liking you but at the end of the day, you will be his wife and its naturally disrespectful for him to try getting with another man’s girl.

“Oh, good cool- you wanna dance?” you know he likes you; you also know Neteyam doesn't like him, it’s a win-win situation. What is neteyam gonna do? Divorce you? You aren’t mated yet and he’ll have to take that up with Eywa first which is essentially impossible. “Sure” you smile brightly at him.

You grab ahold of his hand and move towards the other dancing na’vi, you sway your hips against him and his arms wraps around you swaying in sync. He turns you around and you throw your hands over his shoulders and that’s when you feel the burning stare. You know it all too well, you have experienced this too much times to not know. You pay no mind to him though as you listen to at’ok whisper how beautiful you look in your ear making you giggle and smile at him.

If Neteyam treated you half as good as this, it wouldn’t be so difficult to live with him, you could make a lot of things in his life easier if he’d just be a little nicer to you, but apparently you are so hard to get along with, the woman who makes sure he has clean clothes and his warrior gear is intact, who cooks for him and cleans his living space. You are so fucking hard to live with.

His hand moved down while he leaned back a bit closer to your lips and tilted his head as if he was gonna come in closer, his hand slid down your back and rested lowly on your hips. You wanted to kiss him honestly, but you got interrupted by a harsh tug on you bicep, pulling you away from At’ok’s warmth.

“You don’t have any fucking shame, do you? The next time I see your hands on my wife- the next time you even look in her direction I'll fucking kill you” Neteyam’s voice was deadly calm, it made shivers run down your spine at how scary he sounded, but you would show no weakness. As soon as he was dragging you in the direction of your shared hut you started throwing a hissy fit, “What the fuck Neteyam we were dancing-”

“Dancing?! You were dancing with someone who isn’t your fucking husband like that? Of please y/n” you rip your arm from his grasp, “what the fuck is your problem-” he didn’t wait for you to finish he just interrupted you again. “You, you are my fucking problem, I thought we agreed, the best interest for the clan is you stay in your fucking lane as my wife and I stay in mine as your husband”

“You are not my husband yet and-”

“Three weeks, just three more weeks you couldn’t keep your legs closed three more weeks? Then after that I knock you up and you could fuck whoever you want. We only need one” His voice sounds stranded, Neteyam has been pissed off before but even you have never managed to make him this mad.

“Jeez everything is not about you and what you want! Maybe I miss having sex! Maybe I’m horny and I wanna have some relief! Did you ever even considered the possibility that I don’t want to have to wait anymore? It's been months since the last time I felt a man and it’s all your fault!” you shout at him.

“You are such a slut you couldn’t wait a couple fucking weeks? You don’t think I feel the same way? Have some fucking self-control! Why should you get to fuck anything that walks while I have to stay loyal and be content with nothing?!” he shouted back to you in the same tone, truthfully it made you kind of turned on the way he spoke to you but your irritation outweighs that right now.

“I have been loyal you asshole, I haven’t let anyone near me in months! Besides I've been so fucking tired making you sure have properly cooked food and that YOUR hut is cleaned and that YOU LOOK PRESENTABLE WHEN YOU GO OUT IN PUBLIC! And this- THIS is what I get for it? I’m a slut?” your tail thrashes around as you scream at him, your hands push his body backwards and you yank on the braid that falls over his ear in front his face.

What you don’t expect after your outburst is Neteyam’s smug laughter filling your ears. You look up at his face seeing his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. He suddenly bends his body forwards resting his hands on his knees holding himself up as he laughs.

“What’s so fucking funny?” you tail twitches angrily your arms crossed over your chest pushing up your tits slightly. His laughter dies down and his head raises to look at you, a smug smirk sits on his face.

“Nothing, it’s just- you are so fucking difficult to please. Eywa could have given me anyone, ANYONE in this ENTIRE clan. But she chooses you? The cock hungry slut that can’t even be bothered to say thank you after all the effort I put in to make this mate ship work. All you want is to fuck! You know if you wanted cock so bad, you should have just fucking asked for it” his voices drop a couple octaves when says his last sentence.

You were about to protest but get cut off by him grabbing your bicep harshly once more, pulling you towards your hut, “Ah ah- shut the fuck up I don’t need to hear more” he continues to cut you off until you are at your door step where he opens up the flap widely and shoves you in, you stumble but catch yourself before you fall.

“Neteyam what the hell-” his large hand met the back of your neck easily, putting pressure on your kuru while pulling you straight up to stabilize you. “You know, you look real pretty tonight, this the one I made you” he toyed with the flowers hanging from the rope of your top. Frankly, you feel a bit nervous of what he might do right now, opting to not sass him, he’s never been this rough with you, or at all so you simply nod your head.

“You have been such a pain in my ass since I could remember and now, you’re gonna be my wife. Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners,” Neteyam lets go of your neck and closing the flap behind him and taking off his cummerbund and arm guards. “Take it off.” His voice is deep, makes you shiver.

You stand still not sure if you should listen to him or not, you really did it today huh? “Don’t make me come over there” he says glancing at you as he puts away his stuff neatly. He stretches his muscular arms and broad shoulder while he watches you still not move at all.

“Y/n why don’t you ever just listen, I'm giving you what you want and you listen won’t listen to me!” His voice sounds stranded once more as he tries to get through to you. He sighs before walking up to you a ripping the top off your body. It was one of your prettier tops so it made you upset when he ruined it, you watch the pretty petals fall to the floor exposing you.

You gasp and brought your hands up to cover your chest, you tail twitches as you look towards him angrily, “Neteyam what the hell I actually liked that top, probably the only thing you ever did that I-” his large palm slaps over your mouth, “shut up” his voice is so calm as if he’s used to doing things this.

Honestly, this approach he is taking with you is turning you on so much, you didn’t think he had it in him. You bite his hand and he rips it away from your mouth, “what do you even think you are about to give me here? Have you ever even made a woman cum? Do you know what to you? I was under the impression you liked men considering the stick up your ass in snug in there.”

“You are about to regret your words you slutty bitch” he mumbles to you when he rips your loincloths off your body forcefully making you stumble forward. Eywa don’t let this man see how mess in between your legs look it’ll be over for you. “Neteya-”

“No.” he pushes your body down on the sleeping mat that is adorn with comfortable blankets and pillows you both made. “You need to learn to shut the fuck up and listen sometimes, I’m sick of your shit. You want to get dicked down fine” he doesn’t give you a minute to protest when he's immediately on top of you tying your hands to the bedhead, he made to go behind your sleeping mat using soft pieces of cloth, it was such a pretty pattern to you know he spent a lot of him on yet, you never imagined he’d use it like this.

“Neteyam-” he cuts you off again, “there you go saying my name again, don’t worry you won't remember anything else when I’m done with you.” he smiles down at you obnoxiously. He doesn’t even wait a second before he grabs your thighs spreading them wide and pinning them to your chest. “Oh Eywa, sweetheart, look how wet.” he smiles wickedly at you, “Did I do this or that little hunter boy you were dancing with huh?” his smile never falters as he takes in your blushing expression.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter does it? I get to play with it.” You wank on the restraints keeping you still but it only tightens the knot, you can practically feel the marks it will leave on your wrist. When he removes one hand from your thighs you instinctively shut them closed trapping his hands inside, you should have known that wouldn’t work, Neteyam physically much stronger than you are.

His hands push your thighs apart harshly and he slaps his heavy hand on your thigh cruelly making you wail out at the sting, “Don’t fucking close it” his voice was steady even with your whimpering. You don’t make the mistake of closing them again when he removes his hand once more, dragging one of his long fingers slowly up your folds to your clit. The feeling makes you mellow softly, you lips parted and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

Neteyam brought his finger up to his mouth watching it drop slick on the bedding and put it in his mouth humming at the taste, “I have to say sweetheart I wasn’t expecting you to taste so sweet, I thought you’d be sourer you know... cause you’re a sour bitch, but my, y/n you taste like utumauti (banana fruit).” Your eyes roll at his comment but you can’t find yourself uttering words when he continues his action.

Without warning he inserts a finger into you, his face is so close to your intimate area you can feel his breath on your clit as he watches your cunt suck in his finger when he’s pulling it back out. He repeats the cycle going faster before adding another finger, your eyes are shut now as he fingers you at a moderate pace, but it still feels amazing. “I can feel you sucking me in, gonna cum on my fingers evenge (girl)?” he speaks out glancing at your flash face. Your lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch his arm flex when he thrust in and out of you. When he curls his finger hitting your sweet spot you mewl loudly and throw your head back, resting it on his fluffy pillow.

His scent invades your nose as you start to lose your senses coming on his fingers. You try to muffle your noises not wanting to give him any kind of complex. “Awe, look at you trying to be quiet. You don’t want me to hear those noises huh? I guess I’ll have to coax them out.” he fakes disappointment pouting his bottom lip out for you as he curls his fingers again pressing down on your sweet spot and he does this over and over and over again.

You can no longer hold in your moans at his movements and he speeds up making you tense your legs up. You release on his hand with a loud whimper you try to shut your legs to make him stop his movements, Neteyam doesn’t falter he open pries your legs back open and delivers another harsh slap to your other thigh, “You just don’t listen huh” he delivers another, then another one slapping both your inner thighs.

“Neteyam please stopp” water wields up in your eyes as you take his rough, heavy slaps to your skin. “You know, you came without permission, what should we do about it slut?” he slaps you again completely ignoring you pleads. Your thighs are turning red from the abuse but he doesn’t care. His fingers speed up their pace inside you and you feel like you are seeing stars, “Neteyam-” you whimper as you try to squirm away from his hands.

“Yea sweetheart? I thought you said I couldn’t make you come?” his tone is condescending when he speaks to you. The overstimulation makes you roll your eyes back, your face flushes deep purple and you bite your lip. “I take it back-” you whimper to him. “Aw, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that now you wanted this didn’t you? You wanted a man to touch you like this. You got it.”

You glimpse at his figure in front of you. He’s having so much fun teasing and touching you, you can see the way he enjoys watching you come undone for him, “All this just for me huh? Just imagine you wanted At’ok to be the one touching you, instead of me? Your husband. You think he could make you feel half as good as this? The answer is no.” Neteyam uses his other hand to push his body up and over yours, his hand moves to graze your nipples that harden a while ago being left untouched.

“Such a little slut. Fuck” neteyam pinches your nipples roughly, feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers he knows you want to cum again but he’s not giving in so easily this time. “You’re gonna cum” he says, he’s not even questioning you, like he’s done this a million times, he just knows. You don’t deny it nodding your head vigorously, “wanna cum yea” you whimper

“Beg.” his voice is stern, he slows his movements a bit, “No fuck you” you bite back. “Oh, then I guess you won’t be cumming tonight” Neteyam voice sounds innocent but his face tells you an entirely different story, he wants you to give him, he’s just waiting for you to roll over and beg for him. His fingers slowly retract from your pussy and the emptiness drives you crazy, “wait!” you shout accidently pulling on the restraints.

“Please?” you mumble so softly he almost didn’t catch it, “What was that sweetheart?” his head leans in tilting his ear towards your mouth, his fingers still inside you half way in, half way out. “Please neteyam..”

He chuckles at you, “feeling shy? Speak up please what?” he eggs on, “Please let me cum” he tries to hold in the satisfied smile making its way to his face, “one more time let me hear it, please what?” he urges you to speak louder, “PLEASE NETEYAM! LET ME CUM!” your eyes are glassy when you scream. You want it so bad you can barely think.

“There it is, that wasn’t so fucking hard was it, all you had to do was ask nicely whore” his smile is wicked when he calls you that, he watches your face bubble up in anger before he continues his ferocious pace. You feel like you melt down into a puddle when you cum on his fingers with a loud scream of his name. You didn’t mean for it to happen but it certainly did, you are sure if someone was around your hut they would have heard you screaming out for you mate.

Neteyam laughs wickedly when he pulls away from your body. The hand that was previously inside you comes up to your face and he smears your wetness onto your skin as he cups for face. “You gonna fucking listen now if I untie you?”

“I always listen Net-” he cuts you off with a harsh slap using the same hand, right across your face whipping your head to the side. His grip comes back, “I didn’t ask for back talk you dirty whore, I asked if you were gonna listen” you mumble something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch making him smack you across the face again. For what felt like the thousandth time, he made your eyes tear up. You decided against answering and just nodded your head, big mistake. His heavy hand comes down once more on your face and before he can utter any words you scream out to make him stop, “yes- fuck yes, I’ll listen”

Neteyam smiles victoriously at you, and reaches his free hand up to rip the restraints off you. You could try to fight him, but you have no energy to even move properly. You were under the impression he got his point across, and that he was done, but you were in for a rude awakening. He moves off of you grabbing the hair on the top of your head roughly and pulling you onto your stomach, you whimper at the pain.

When he lets you go his roughly pulls you up on all fours, and you raise your head to see his positioned you in front of the mirror he got for your hut. “Oh no” the thought ran through your head, you take in your form; half of your face is red from his slaps, you can see your red thighs. Your bottom lip swollen from biting down on it.

“Oh, but yes, were not done” you must have said it out loud and not even realized, when your eyes shift to his form looming over you, his head is right next to yours, his loincloth has been discarded and he was stroking himself behind you. You couldn’t see his cock from this angle so you drop your head down to the mat, your chin touched the floor and you looked in through the mirror directly as his dick, you watch him stroke his incredibly long and thick length, your eyes widen as you wonder how the fuck that was about to fit inside you, you have never taken anything so big before, how does he even hide that thing?

Neteyam notes your expression easily and raises up highly to give you a better view. When his tip presses at your overstimulated clit you raise your head up and shook a ‘no’ quickly pulling your body away from him. “Don’t run, you were cursing breeze about an hour ago about how horny you were, and how much you wanted another man to touch you” he pulls you back roughly, dragging your bent over form closer to him and you felt his tip pushing against you once more.

“I’m going to have to teach you who this pussy belongs too” he pushes in this time without warning and you feel his length stretch you out, your mouth makes an o shape but not sound comes out as you take him in. You didn’t even know it was possible that to fit in you, but then again you never thought you would be fucking this man so things change.

“Eywa you are such a slutty doll, watch yourself fall apart on my cock, and I just stuck it in.” he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, he just starts pounding into you. You cream on his cock while he’s thrusting, he fucks you so good, it’s like Eywa made his cock especially for your cunt. When you are almost coming for the third time, he pulls out of you leaving you untouched.

Your eyes shoot up to look at him threw the mirror and you find him already staring at you, “Who’s making you cum sweetheart?” he asks you in a sickeningly sweet voice, “No one, I’m not coming you pulled out. What, can’t keep up with me?” you feel upset at his action making you manifest an attitude. His hand comes down smacking your ass, your tail whips when your feel the fat ripple, “What?” when you done answer he smacks the other cheek of your ass making you whimper, “nothing...” you said softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Sweetheart you always make things hard for yourself” smack. “Why can’t you just be a good little wife” smack. “You didn’t answer my question yet” smack. “Who’s making you come slut?” smack. Smack. Smack.

Neteyam thoroughly enjoys spanking you like you were a naughty child. He didn’t stop until he heard you small words, “You, you’re making me come please?” you push your ass back into his dick feeling the tip slip down and slap your slit making you jump. He catches you off guard when he pushes back in fucking you with the same vigor ask before, making you drop your face down to the mat

“Now tell me who’s making you come?” his right hand comes around to your neck and pulls you up choking you. Your lips part as you exhale with every thrust he delivers, “Y-you” you stutter out, “Say my name whore come on” his face comes down next to yours and his hand moves from your neck to your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers, his head comes down to the junction of your neck and face and sucks harshly on the skin.

Neteyam leave dark purple marks all over your neck then he feels your cunt clenching down on his cock, “Gonna cum?” he whispers to you. You can barely form coherent words but you do manage to hm out a “mhmmmm.” his hand that is holding your face smacks it lightly a couple times, “Is that how you ask?” he questions, his pace never faltering, “Pul-lease Net-teyam!” your teeth are clenched as you whimper and moan at the amazing feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

“Such a quick learner come on slut, come on my cock” his words send you over the edge coming on command, your orgasm is intensified by the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, he’s biting you, marking you, Neteyam creates a pretty wound when he draws blood out of you making you scream loudly.

You pant your mouth feels dry and your throat hurts, you want to fall down but his grip is strong, he doesn’t let that happen. Neteyam pulls out of you quickly and moves his hand from your face to the top of your head pulling you to sit on your knees in front of him. He strokes his cock before tapping it on your lips a couple times, “come on, open up taste your juices slut.” His cock presses against you lips when he lets it go and slaps you across the face again, “Are you slow bitch, open up” he smacks you around whipping your head from side to side before you answer him, “My mouth is dry-” he can hear it in your voice, he knows it’s true.

“Open.” he says sternly, his hands now occupied holding your head, “Stick your tongue out.” he continues in the same tone, when you do it, he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours and you instinctively swallow it, he shoves his cock into your mouth right after, “Now suck” he demanded thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

He observes the way your cheeks puff out when he fills you up and the bulge in your throat when he thrust harshly into your mouth. The view is perfect for once you can’t complain or bitch about anything you do, your mouth is stuffs, you are quiet. Neteyam enjoys the silence aside from the occasionally gagging, your tears fall down your cheeks creating such a perfect picture for him.

When neteyam come he pulls out of your mouth, stroking himself coming all over your face and chest with a sexy moan, “fuckkk yea take it bitch.” He takes a deep breath and looks down at you seeing you stick your tongue out tasting the cum that sits on your lips. Neteyam thinks it’s so hot, next time he’ll be sure to come in your mouth but for now, “gonna stop being a little bitch now and behave yourself?” he brings his hand back squishing your face, ignoring the feeling of his come on it. You nod quickly before opening you mouth and responding, “I’ll behave.”

You both know it’s not true but at least you said it.

✨ I’m not sure how much I like this but I hope you do when you read it! Repost, likes and comments are always appreciated, I love the positive feedback!

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httpscomexe · 1 month

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Ensnared 4

Summary: There’s no escaping him, especially after your new not so little injury.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Kidnapping, waterboarding, food and water deprivation, a lot of blood, manipulation, yandere Logan, mentions of past murder, slight description of injury. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 3736 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

P.P.S. Everything with a gruesome description or horrifying act will also be in bold italic

“What- Oh.” He tilts his head a little. “I take it you found Vincent.”

You were speechless. This literal murderer had his hands on you to keep you still.

“I- I wanna go home.” Your voice shakes as you speak to him, and he takes a few steps forward, carefully walking you further into the cabin before closing the front door and locking it, a clicking sound coming from the lock. “Please L-Logan… Please don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” He sounds confused, walking you backwards until your back hits a wall but he stays close to you, his hands moving up to hold your face as you shrunk against the flat surface.

“I don’t wanna die- Please don’t hurt me…” You whine, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“Baby, I’m not gonna hurt you…” He tells you, his voice steady and calm compared to yours. “Why would I ever hurt you?” You finally muster the courage, your head tilted down but you look up at him through your lashes.

“You killed Vincent-“

“She brought that on herself when she hurt you.” He tells you, one of his hands moving to hover over your bandaged wound.

“She didn’t deserve that…”

“Baby nobody gets to hurt you.” He tells you, his voice becoming desperate as he speaks to you. “Not even I should be able to hurt you…” He whispers, his body beginning to press against yours as you’re pushed impossibly further against the wall.

“No. No Logan.” Your voice cracks a little and another tear falls down your face. “This isn’t right. This isn’t okay. Please, I wanna go home.”

“This is your home. And this is my home.” He gently reaches up to push some hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to leave, and you will not leave. This is your home now. You. Are. Mine.”

You swallowed heavily; his eyes still stared into yours as you let his words settle in your head.

Not even I should be able to hurt you. He said. He won’t hurt you. “Logan. I don’t care what you do. But I will not stop fighting you.” You whisper, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady. “At every opportunity I have, I will run. And I will not stop running and fighting you, until you let me go.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then his eyes seem to grow darker as he keeps you against the wall, one of his hands on your waist.

“I said I won’t hurt you. I never said I won’t lock you up.”

“Logan!” You shout, falling to the ground after he pushes you into a room, closing the solid door just as you reach it. “Logan let me out!” Yelling, and banging your fists on the door seems to do nothing, but you continue to do it anyways. Hoping he would be annoyed eventually.

But it was no good.

You finally give up after a while, at least an hour of banging on the door with your fists until your skin finally goes numb and red from the constant impact.

You throw yourself down, landing on a mattress that was sitting in the small room, not even covered by sheets.

The room was dark, and the walls and floor were made of concrete. So you stare at the ceiling, trying to think of another way you could get out.

But there were no doors. No vents. Nothing. Just the huge wooden door, a soft yellow light coming from the ceiling, and the cold, concrete walls.

It was quiet also. All you could hear was your breathing. You were sure the walls were soundproof, the thickness of them stopping even a scream.

So, you just lie there, wishing it would all end. And just as you’re about to close your eyes, you hear locks click, and the hinges in the door scream as the door is opened, Logan walking in with a plate of food and a glass of water. I will not stop fighting you.

“Hey, you should eat, you haven’t all day.”

You don’t answer him as you sit up and he crouches next to you, placing the plate of food on the bed for you.

“I’m not hungry.” You lie, your stomach rumbling as if on cue. The betrayal.

“Well, that doesn’t matter. You’re going to eat when I tell you whether you like it or not.” He tells you, lifting the plate and handing it to you. You take it in both hands, then you stare at him for a moment.

Your hands hover over the floor with the food on the plate, then you tilt the plate, all of the food falling off the ceramic before splatting on the floor.

And he sighs, his fists clenching at you then dropping the plate. It didn't break, but a crack was now visible from one side to the other, splitting it in half, and he growled a little.

“Was that necessary?” He asks you, his eyes boring into yours as you nod. “Clean it. Now.” You shake your head. Does he really think you would listen to him?

“No.” you tell him, your voice stern so he knows you aren’t doing shit.

“Clean it up now, or you will regret it.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Yea. I won’t” He leans forward, getting closer to you. “I can still torture you; I can do things that only emotionally disable you, I don’t need to get physical if I can be psychological.”

“Well, you already have the psycho part down.” Burn.

“Right.” He groans as he stands up, leaving the room and closing the door behind him before returning with a plastic bag, paper towels, and a bucket. “Last chance.” He tosses the towels and the bag on the mattress next to you and you don’t move an inch. “Fine.” He walks away, moving to the other side of the room to open another door you hadn’t noticed before, revealing a bathroom, and you watch as he places the bucket under the bathtub faucet, turning it off once the bucket is full before walking back over, placing the bucket in the corner of the room. “Now come here.” Again, you don’t move. “Fuck…” He mumbles before storming over to you, grabbing you and pulling you up, roughly, but not enough to hurt you.

“Let go!” You shout as he pushes you to your knees in front of the bucket.

“You don’t give me the fucking orders.” He whispers harshly in your ear before forcing your head down into the bucket of water just before you're about to scream, causing all of the air in your lungs to be lost in the water of the bucket.

He keeps you forced under the water for about ten seconds, holding you still as you squirm uncontrollably, his fingers tangled in your hair. Then he lifts your head back up, and you force air down your lungs just before he pushes your head back into the bucket. Let me go! You scream, but the water only emits bubbles of air to the top of the water, your words unheard.

Your head is brought back up.

“Do you really think you can fight me?” He asks, one of his hands with his fingers still tangled in your hair, which was stuck to your wet face, and his other hand was wrapped around your arm to keep you still. “Tell me do you really think you can fucking fight me?” He asks again.

“Fuck you!” You squirm, his fingers pulling your hair roughly. “That hurts! You said you won’t hurt me asshole!”

“I’m not hurting you.” He tells you. Bull fucking shit. “I’m just holding you; you’re hurting yourself by fucking moving.” Fuck. You stop squirming, still breathing heavily from the assault. “Are you gonna clean your mess now? Or do you need a few more seconds under the water?"

“I’ll clean it.” You finally give in, and he lets go of your body before you snap up onto your feet to get away from him, and he slowly stands back straight.

“Get to it.”

You do, immediately going to the fallen food on the floor and cleaning it quickly, but making sure it’s all clean, throwing all of the trash in the little bag.

“Good girl.” Your stomach flips as he takes the bag, leaving you on your knees. “Now tonight, I guess you’re going to bed hungry.” He tells you, crouching down to your level. “And don’t try anything stupid. I’m watching.” He points to a corner in the room, where a little black camera was propped up. Watching.

“Okay.” You mumble, knowing damned well you weren’t going to listen to him for shit.

“Good. Now lie down.” He tells you, standing back straight as he shoves one of his hands into his jean pocket, watching as you move onto the mattress. “Night.”

He walks out without another word, switching off the light with the switch on the wall near the door, leaving the room in pure darkness.

As you’re lying down, hours pass. No sounds are heard except for the often rumble of your stomach. Part of you regrets not eating, but you needed to test his limits. Of course though, now you were starving, and the pain wouldn’t let you sleep.

You sit up, slowly placing your feet on the ground as you take small steps towards the door, careful not to trip on anything, not that there was anything to trip on, before your fingers find the light switch, casting the room in the same yellow glow. You knock, or rather bang your fist on the door a few times. With as much as you didn’t want him knowing you had to rely on him for food, you also didn’t want to starve.

“Logan!” You call for him, your voice cracking quietly from dehydration and not speaking for a while. “Logan!” You shout a little louder, tears threatening to fall as you bang harder on the door. It’s a small cabin, he was bound to hear you next to the door, he just didn’t want to see you. So you look around the room, thinking of anything else you could do.

Your eyes immediately find the camera, a little red blinking light indicating he was watching you. Rushing over to the corner, there was the bucket full of water sitting under it on the floor. You tilt the bucket, pouring the water over the concrete before lifting it, the metal weight decently heavy in your hands. “Okay…” Mumbling, you take a few steps back with the bucket, then you chuck it up at the camera in the corner, letting it fall back down to the ground before picking it up, and repeating the process a few times before the little light turns off.

Thinking you broke it by accident, you put the bucket down before the familiar clicking sound comes from the door, making you run over to greet him. Not exactly sure why you were excited. Right, you’re starving.

“What the fuck are you-?”

“I’m really hungry.”

“It is 3 in the morning.”

“Well, I don’t exactly have a clock to tell me that.” He begins to close the door, his head shaking in annoyance. “Wait!” You shout, and he stops to look at you again.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Well then you should’ve eaten earlier.”

“I’m sorry, Logan. But I cannot sleep, I’m literally starving.”

He considers you, staring you up and down, then he steps to the side, letting you leave the room before shutting the door again. You think about running, but you know he’s faster than you. So, you cut the idea out and listen.

“Come and look at what I have.” He tells you, moving past you and into the little kitchen.

He opens the fridge, and you look inside. There’s decent continents; eggs, milk, jam, and a few other things. Nothing to your appeal though.

“I- I don’t know-”

“I’ll make you a sandwich, go sit down.” He demands and you listen, moving past him to sit at a little table sitting next to a window.

Your eyes never leave him though as he pulls two cuts of bread out of a sandwich bag, laying them on a paper plate before taking peanut butter out of one of the cabinets, spreading it on one of the slices of bread.

“What kind of jam? Strawberry, blackberry, blueberry-”

“Strawberry is fine.”

He continues moving, reaching into the fridge for strawberry jam before opening it and spreading it on the other slice of bread, then slapping the two together.

“Here.” He hands you the plate, then moves back to the counter to put everything away.

You rip off a small piece and take an even smaller bite.

“Really?” He sounds defeated as he watches you nibble it.

“What…?”

“I don’t want to be here all night.”

You shrug. “Then go back to bed.”

“I don’t trust you yet unfortunately, or I would.”

“What am I gonna do?” You ask, taking another nibble.

“Something stupid.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Shut the fuck up and eat before I throw it away.”

You shut up, taking another small bite, and he watches you, another sigh escaping his throat as he leans against the counter and watches you with his arms crossed. You take the time it takes you to chew to look around a little. Your eyes darting quickly before taking another nibble. You spot a few things you’d be able to use against him. Some kitchen knives in a block, an umbrella, a grilling fork, only a few things to be used as weapons.

“Stop looking around and fucking eat, take bigger bites.”

You feel like you could cry as he raises his voice, it was like being judged by your own father the way he spoke, disappointment radiating from his lips.

“Sorry…” You mumble, your appetite being lost to his anger as you take an even smaller bite, not even on purpose before he shakes his head, grabbing the other chair and pulling it to you.

“Let me see this.” He takes the plate, ripping off a bigger piece than you before raising it in front of your face, urging you to eat it. Trying to feed you.

“Logan I-”

“Fucking, eat it.” He growls, and you open your lips, letting him feed you.

Feeding you until you shake your head, having eaten about ¾ of it before he tosses the rest, standing up and holding his hand out for you to take. Which you don’t.

“Also, Logan…" You mumble. “I’m cold, do you have any-”

“You’re not getting blankets unless you sleep with me.”

“What about warmer clothes?”

“No.”

You bite your cheek, not trusting sleeping with him, but you wouldn’t be able to sleep cold.

“Fine.” You whisper. “I’ll sleep with you, but please-” You pause, not sure if he’d even care. “Just please don’t touch me…” You beg a little, and he nods.

“I won’t.” He begins to walk towards the room. “At least not sexually.” What?

You lie there next to him. He didn’t touch you sexually, just as he had promised, but his arm was still wrapped around your waist, caging you against his body as his chest moved against your back each time he took a deep breath in his sleep. But your eyes remain open. The touch, the setting, everything. Everything was just so new and unusual to you, and you didn’t know how to feel, but your mind was definitely restless.

So you just lay there, hoping sleep would eventually take you, but you were silently praying a stroke would take you instead, just to end your pain.

When you do wake up, unsure of when you had fallen asleep, the weight of his arm is gone, letting you sigh in relief as you turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Not a single thought running through your mind as you just stare. But there was an unfamiliar sound coming from outside of the window as you lay there, making you turn your head towards the window, which was open, letting a cold wind drift into the room from the snow. In the distance was Logan, chopping wood in his flannel.

Then you have an idea.

He stops for a moment, turning around to look at you, but you close your eyes in a flash, not wanting him to know you’re awake, so after a moment, you open your eyes again, and he’s back to chopping wood with the large axe in his hand. He left it open to watch you.

You slowly get off the bed. You weren’t exactly dressed for stepping in snow. There were no shoes or even socks on your feet, and all you were wearing was a short black skirt and one of his shirts, which barely reached halfway down your thighs.

You reach the window, lifting it up all the way as he continues to swing at a log. Stepping through the window, the snow is cold on your bare feet, but you knew you wouldn’t ever have this opportunity to run ever again.

As soon as both of your feet are on the snow, which is about five inches off the ground, a generous amount that wouldn’t possibly slow you down (eyeroll), you take a single step, then another, your pace getting faster with each step before you’re going full sprint. Hell, you never would’ve guessed how fast you would be able to run through snow like you were without shoes. Mind you, it wasn’t that fast, and your feet quickly became numb.

“Hey!” Shit. You manage to run faster, sure enough he could definitely run faster. You saw the boots he was wearing. You realise, you fucked up. But you didn’t care.

I will run, and I will not stop running.

Your words replay in your mind, your feet moving impossibly fast in the snow as your pace is fueled by adrenaline.

“It isn’t safe Y/N! Stop fucking running!” He yells, continuing to chase behind you, the sound of his boots crushing snow getting closer only fueling more adrenaline through fear in your body. Making you run faster, and you know you’re moving faster than he is. But your feet were getting numb, preventing you from being able to run any further. So, once you're far enough, you rely on the fog from the snow to keep you hidden as you hide, ducking near some evergreen bushes until you knew you weren’t visible.

Your eyes land on his dark figure in the fog as he slows to a stop, spinning around trying to find you, making you quickly duck down before he sees you.

“Y/N!” He yells your name again, and it sounds almost urgent. “I’m being really fucking serious right now, you’re gonna get hurt!” He repeats, and you hear the crunching of his footsteps again, making you back away further, the size of the bush covered in snow keeping you hidden.

Your legs are completely numb as he doesn’t leave the area, your skin turning red from the cold snow, but you adjust yourself every time you think you’re in his point of view.

Then you feel relieved, leaning your head back against a tree as he lets out a disappointed sigh, you look over your shoulders to see him leaving, back in the direction of the cabin.

Then your hand snaps to cover your mouth, the snapping sound of heavy metal jaws is quiet, but Logan freezes as he hears the faint sound of it.

Tears fall down your cheeks. Yea, your legs were numb. But it still fucking hurt.

You build the courage to look down, your palm leaving your mouth as your eyes trail down your legs, a large bear trap clenched down on your right calf, the sight causing a painful squeak to escape your throat as you stared down at the rusty bear trap. The rust made it look old, like it had been sitting there untouched for years. Until you came along.

You look back over your shoulder, and Logan is gone, presumably ignoring the sound and heading back, so you lean forward, wrapping your fingers around the jaws of the bear trap before trying to pull it off, the teeth hadn’t sunk into your skin yet, only barely grazing it.

But then it snaps shut on your calf, causing a blood curdling scream to erupt from your throat, more tears streaming down your face. You swear the numbness only enhanced the pain.

Pained cries come from your throat, and you hear the crunching snow again, stopping at your side, making you look over as Logan stands beside you.

“See what I fucking told you?” He mocks you, bending down next to the bear trap and you watch him, but your eyes are mainly glued to the blood red crystals of snow that were slowly melting from the warm touch of your blood.

He takes a key out of his pocket. A big old one that looked as if it would unlock a dungeon, but it unlocks the bear trap, which he pushes back into place before taking your calf out of it, quickly removing his flannel to wrap around your leg, and you’re too stunned to speak.

He stands, now only wearing his jeans and white tank top, but you don’t have the energy to speak to him as he speaks to you.

Blood leaks from your leg, spilling into the snow as if it was infinite, some blood getting onto Logan's hands as he lifts you up, causing blood to drip from his flannel, the progressive amount already soaking the shirt as the little drops fall into the snow under you.

“Don’t run out again, there’s traps everywhere. Hunters too, and I don’t think you want a bullet in your forehead like Vincent.”

Your voice comes out tired, in a mumble. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me…”

“I didn’t. You hurt yourself. I told you to stop running.”

Fuck.

Once again, he was right, and the cabin was coming back into view.

You were never going to get away from him.

You realise, your vision begins to fade as the cabin becomes closer. Then there’s nothing as you pass out, your head falling against his shoulder as you faint…

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #smut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #xmen #Ensnared #httpscomexe

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wannabegwenstacy · 1 year

Text

Eden's Favorite Scoups Tumblr Fics

updated: 5/2/2023

A/N: check out the full svt fic recs masterlist for some of the other members. warning i'm a baby carat so its not super full yet and i currently have only some members posts created currently. will be updating with more fic recs periodically. :)

A/N: Also, I don't have a lot of fics linked yet. :( Will continue reading and updating periodically.

⇣Below cut⇣

Terrifyingly Innocent by @twogyuu

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, fake dating, slowburn, older brother’s best friend!Seungcheol, badboy!Seungcheol, innocent!reader, older brother!Jihoon, non-idol!au, university!au, low-key Crazy Rich Asians!au (Seungcheol is RICH - implied chaebol lifestyle, Jihoon and reader's family aren't chaebols and are commoners but well-off)

Warnings: PG-13, specific warnings will be listed per chapter.

Summary: Fearful of losing her, yet unwilling to leave; this agreement between Seungcheol and his best friend’s little sister was meant to be casual and temporary, yet he finds himself growing more attached to her day by day.

push it down (sooner or later it all comes out) by @dontflailmenow

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

word count: 50,301

genre: smut (18+), enemies to lovers, camboy au, angst (with a happy ending)

Warnings: adult language, excessive use of petnames, copious amounts of banter, e2l antagonism/shenanigans, camboy!cheol, strength kink, size kink, blink and you miss it sir kink, reader likes being a brat and cheol is into it, brief discussion about/hints of potential sexual power dynamics (but they're pretty tame imo), two instances of ass-swatting, mutually consensual possessiveness, semi-public touching, explicit sexual content: masturbation (m. and f.), manual stimulation (m. and f. receive), oral sex (m. and f. receive), protected and unprotected sex + creampie.

Summary: thirsting over your ex’s best friend in general is a bad idea. given that you and seungcheol have never gotten along, it’s even worse. when you accidentally stumble across his stream, though, and he finds out? all bets are off.

baguette by @bwinnies

Pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: FLUFF , some cursing , food is mentioned (they’re in a grocery store) , seungcheol may make u kinda weak ngl

FINE DINING 101: STEP ONE (s.c) by @ncteez

Pairing: seungcheol x afab reader

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: pussy eating (he gets in there), masturbation in the form of humping the mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, there isn’t any penetration or anything but like– maybe in a part two they can actually do more??? idk it depends on if y’all want a part two.

Summary: Is it weird that no man has ever given you some good head and your best friend is a bit annoyed by that? Probably not. Is it weird that he offers to eat you out after a particularly bad date? Oh yeah, for sure. You’re still gonna let him though.

or the one where seungcheol proves to you just how good he is at giving head.

Remind Me by @milfgyuu

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: mc gets drunk, cheol sleeps in underwear only (u can fight me on this), like one (1) unintentional innuendo.

Summary: You’ve had a little too much to drink at your sister’s wedding and can’t understand how or why Choi Seungcheol of all people is assigned to babysit you.

ice cold, cabin fever by @smileysuh

Pairing: Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit

Wordcount: 25.9k

AU's: e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...

Warnings: threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, | petnames: (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

Summary/Preview: "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

inflection point series by @lovelyhan

Pairing: jeonghan x reader x seungcheol

Wordcount: 6.3k + 8.3k + 7.6k

Tags: unresolved emotional tension, friends to lovers on the hannie side of things, lovers to exes to enemies to lovers again on the cheol side of things, established relationship, angst, smut

Warnings: | pt.2 : implied alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!) | pt.3 : graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

Summary: you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

Bite That Lip | One-Shot (Seungcheol) by @beahae

Pairings: Seungcheol/S.Coups x Reader(f)

Rating/genre: M18+, friends-with-benefits to ???; smut 💖, mild angst/fluff

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Explicit smut, unprotected vaginal penetration, spanking, dom!Cheol and sub!reader, finger sucking, Cheol and Mingyu both lift and carry reader, reader wears workout clothes (sports bra, leggings), sorta sweaty sex, creampie, degradation, kind of breeding kink (depends what you consider a breeding kink to be), reader is referred to as ‘brat’ and ‘a hole’, pet name ‘baby’, begging, possessiveness/jealousy but it’s like hot and not crazy in my opinion, reader is a tease and brat but only before the smut lol

Summary: Seungcheol knows you're really close with his whole friend group. But now that things have... quietly been developing between the two of you, he would love it if you'd cool it with the heavy flirting with the other guys.

in the eye of the beholder by @cheolism

Pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader

Wordcount: 6.2k

Tags: boyfriend!cheol, dom!cheol, possessive cheol. wall sex, fingering, oral; unprotected sex. worshipful sex. cheol's crude mouth, dirty talk. crying during sex from pleasure, mating press, spitting, hair pulling, consensual choking (just a little). pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart, angel, pretty girl, beautiful). simp seungcheol, his real spending addiction. he's going to tell you you're beautiful until you believe it.

Warnings: MDNI. fat/chubby!reader, insecurity, internalized fatphobia, anxiety. mentions of fatness, stretchmarks, love handles.

Summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.

F*ck, Marry, Kill: With the Experienced by @bitchlessdino

Pairing: fem!reader x ex!mingyu x seungcheol x wonwoo

Genre: smut

Wordcount: 5.6k

Tags: poly, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, pet names (princess), unprotected sex (except cheol), praise kink, spanking, clit slapping, fingering, oral (rec. and giving), u, pussy slapping, ass play, triple penetration

Summary: one dumb party game makes a comeback.

#seventeen #seventeen fic rec #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #scoups fic recs #scoups #scoups smut #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol #seungcheol fic recs #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader

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whiteteadreams · 2 years

Text

Black Eye

Pairing: Boxer!Chwe Vernon x Female Reader

Preview: “You didn’t have to scare me like that though.” Your volume was much lower than it had been but not because Vernon told you to be quiet. He was panting above you from fighting your squirming body and you couldn’t move. “Eh, I just wanted to have a bit of fun.” Your bottom lip jutted out, not liking to be teased.

“Don’t pout on me baby, you know I love you.” He leaned down and pecked your bottom lip. When he pulled away you tried chasing his kiss, licking your lip to savoir it, wanting more. Vernon smiled at you and granted your unspoken wish. Before connecting your lips, he spoke against them. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Slice of Life (kinda), Boxer AU, Non-Idol AU, fluff, smut, established relationship

Warnings: Violence, smut, cleaning wounds, cursing/mature language, pet names (baby, etc), manhandling (non-sexual), they spar at one point, the boxing vernon does is illegal, angst, fluff, not 100% proofread

Smut Warnings: slight dub-con (its consensual, reader is just unsure at first bc vernon is hurt), riding, body worship (f and m receiving), spitting, slight oral sex (f receiving), slight humiliation, thigh slapping (once), barely any foreplay, aftercare

a/n- little surprise fic to celebrate vernon's solo single, the boxing talk is probably wrong but oh well lmfao, sorry if it’s rushed i kinda lost motivation halfway through but hopefully it isn’t too bad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With every punch thrown his way, you squinted your eyes to minimize your view and winced. You hated seeing him get hurt and you weren't the biggest fan of watching him hurt others, but nonetheless you still supported him. Even though you didn't agree with his choices you still loved him, more than you should.

It didn’t even matter if his opponent missed or not, once you saw the swing you couldn’t bear to see the outcome. You tensed whenever you saw Vernon’s opponent’s swing land on your boyfriend’s face or torso. A bruise on the face was a constant reminder that he was hurt because you could see it and you knew that a bruise around the ribcage was the most painful for him.

The match was the closest one Vernon has had in a while, you kept gnawing at your nails and thankfully you were sitting because you were sure that your knees would’ve failed you by now. The men beside you were betting on who would win, one was rooting for your boyfriend while the other one would scream in victory when he was hit. You hated when the people in the crowd would bet on Vernon, it didn’t matter if it was against him or for him, but it made him seem like a zoo animal, even more so since he was fighting in a cage.

Not understanding why he wouldn’t join some boxing club to fight instead of the illegal underground cage fighting he would do. Vernon just claimed that the money was better.

Your mind was pulled away from your worries and was forced to focus on the scene in front of you when the man rooting for Vernon started cheering. “He won! Man, fuck you! I told you I was right; you owe me two-hundred fucking dollars!” Vernon won! The worry of him being knocked unconscious was laid to rest when your eyes focused on him limping out of the cage.

Getting up from your seat as quick as possible, you pushed your way through the people starting you shove their own way out. Vernon lifted his head to search for you and when you made eye contact, he tilted his head in direction to the bathroom. That’s where you two would normally meet after the match, so Vernon could catch his breath and you both could wait out the chaos that was created when everyone was trying to leave the small building at the same time.

You kept an eye on him as people pushed past him, he stayed close to the wall while you were trying to fight your way to him, feeling people step on your feet as well as elbow your ribs.

Getting tired of people keeping you from Vernon, you started pushing back and that got you to where you needed to be, with him. You could see the blood dripping from a cut on his forehead down his face. He winced every time someone touched him, and your heart ached, but you knew he loved the sport.

More and more people started to clear out and exit the building and soon you weren’t forced to put up a fight to get to Vernon. With him limping you were able to catch up quickly. “Vernon, oh my god, let’s get you cleaned up.” Trying to get Vernon into the bathroom ended up being more difficult than you thought because that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Starting his sentence with a groan, he threw his head onto your shoulder, and you allowed him to slump most of his weight onto you. “No, I just wanna go home. Take me home, please.” The whine in his voice caused you to comply and help him turn around, heading to the exit.

The walk to the car was a pain, Vernon limping and whining, but the worse part was when people would come up to him and congratulate him on the fight and he’d have to put up a fake smile.

But alas, the two of you made it to the car and with the cool air blowing on Vernon while he was relaxed, he started to feel like himself again. “I haven’t had a fight that challenging in a while, I thought he was gonna put me on my ass there for a second.” Vernon spoke up after inhaling one of the bottles of water you brought for him, struggling to get his sentence out between the gasps for air. He obviously couldn’t feel the somewhat negative energy that was radiating off your body because all he was focused on was basking in his win, flipping through the large stack of cash that consisted of his reward money but also all the money that was made by people betting against him. He didn’t mind people betting against him, as long as he came out on top.

“Why are you so quiet babe? Did something happen?” Finally, he finally noticed you, or maybe it was just because you hadn’t congratulated him yet. “You know how I feel about this. I’m not happy about tonight.” The quiet scoff that left his lips could still be heard over the radio that helped fill the otherwise silent car. “I still won; I don’t know what’s the big deal.”

Shaking your head, already tired of the conversation that had just started. The conversation is the exact same whenever Vernon has a tough fight, it’s been a while since then, but it wasn’t something you’d like to relive.

“That isn’t the point Hansol. You’re hurt, the last time you had a fight this hard you ended up in the hospital with a concussion, one that wasn’t just mild. That wasn’t fun for you or me.” He just rolled his eyes, annoyed that you used his formal name and that you were scolding him. You only used his formal name to make a point or to show your frustration. It was your way of showing him that you were serious.

The car ride returned to its silent atmosphere, this time with annoyed auras coming from both sides. Even with the mutual cold shoulders, you went on with your night as always, just without the talking, you helped Vernon out of the car and up the stairs of the apartment building. He leaned against the wall as you dug through your bag for your keys to open the door. You helped him hobble to the bathroom where he sat on the closed toilet lid while you found the first aid kit.

Just because there was thick tension in the air, it didn’t stop Vernon from following the routine, all of it. His eyes and hands wandered, his hands falling to the back of your thighs, right under your ass and his eyes would switch between staring at your lips and tits. His mind was already off the argument, but you couldn’t say the same about yours.

"You know I hate seeing you hurt, I don't get why you won't stop, Vernon." His lip curled up; you weren't sure if it was his attempt of a sexy smile or the effect of dabbing an alcohol wipe on his cut lip had on him. You voiced your concern either way but got your answer of what the curled lip meant when his arms wrapped around you and his hands fell upon your ass.

"The money is great, it's a good workout, and I've got my own sexy nurse waiting for me so she can kiss my wounds away." He winked the eye that wasn't swollen shut and squeezed your ass. Slapping his bicep didn't cause him to stop his antics, instead he flexed the muscle and pulled you closer to him.

Vernon kept you close while you finished nursing his beautiful but bruised face. The after-fight routine continued with you starting the shower for him. Showers were for the night right after the fight where he could let any of the blood from his torso wash off and he could have the warm running water soothe his back. Baths were the saved for the morning after the fights so his sore body could soak.

You left the bathroom, allowing him to shower in peace, but not without turning down his pleads for you to get in with him. He insisted that he wasn’t hurt which caused you to laugh and remind him that you had to help him walk to the shower. Vernon gave up and just asked you to set out a shirt and a pair of sweats for him so he wouldn’t have to limp around the room with his dick swinging. Laughing again you nodded and set the clothes on the vanity.

Keeping yourself busy while Vernon was showering was easy, you felt like you always had something you needed to do. Whether it was something around the apartment or it was something for school, and you couldn’t ever forget about the job you were drowning in since your coworkers always threw their own work onto the massive pile of your own that needed to be completed. Vernon knew about your never-ending stress, and he wasn’t one to add onto it, unless it was before, during, or after a fight. Watching Vernon in the fighting cage was always a way to get your mind off of the other things stressing you out, but not in a good way. Seeing Vernon get hurt was more stressful than anything else combined. He knew that so whenever he wasn’t in the ring, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, causing you to love him, more than you should.

Sitting on the couch with your laptop on your lap, you got two larger assignments done for one of your classes before you heard the shower turn off. Hearing Vernon grunt his way back to the bedroom, you finished what you were working on so you could go tend to him.

“C’mere, give me a kiss baby, please?” You were walking back into your shared bedroom where you saw Vernon sitting on your bed with his back to the bedpost. Playfully rolling your eyes, you walked over to where Vernon was perched.

"C'mon baby, just one kiss, a reward for winning the match." You know his tricks all too well. "It starts with just one kiss and then it escalates." He shot you a lazy smile, his eyes already glossy from being tired.

He hummed before he spoke, "Don't give me that look, you let it escalate, you end up begging for me at one point." You huffed as heat flooded your face. "Hansol. You're hurt, we aren't going to have sex."

"I didn't ask you to have sex, I asked you for a kiss. But if getting fucked is what's on your mind, I'm more than happy to help you."

Disbelief is what you were in, you couldn't believe the man in front of you. Especially since he kept going. "Are you wet? I bet you were drenched for me after the fight too, breathing heaving with sweat dripping off me. You were trying not to jump my bones, huh?"

He laughed. He laughed at you when the eye contact became too much, and you had to look away. He was right, and he knew he was right too.

"Do you want my cock baby?" You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded, and his ego boosted even more but when you looked up and saw his bruising rib cage, you snapped out of the horny daze you were put under by him.

"No, Vernon. You're injured, and I don't want you to get hurt even worse." You started to walk away until he spoke up again, "I could just sit here and let you do all the work. I know you like being on top. It'll help me get better quicker."

"You promise you'll tell me if you feel any pain?" You stepped closer to him and waited for his response before you made any major moves. “Of course I will, now come here, please.”

Still a bit hesitant, you finished walking to him and before you could do anything else, the lust you had for your boyfriend took everything else. You pressed your lips to his and allowed him to grab your hips to pull you up and over his lap, making you straddle him. Disconnecting your lips just long enough to remove Vernon’s shirt, you smiled at him. You loved the way he looked at you, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the universe, like you were something rare, something that needed to be taken care of and cherished. While it took your breath away, you took Vernon’s away. Every time he looked at you, he couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have you. You always supported him even if you didn’t agree with it, and you stayed with him, after all the matches, the hospital visits, lying to the doctors about what happened, you stayed. Vernon loved you. He worshiped you.

He was pulled out of the daze he created when he felt you kissing his torso. He looked down and saw you place your lips on each and every bruise that littered his skin. When you came back up to his level, you hugged him. He was a bit taken back by it but understood why when you whispered in his ear. “I hate that you let this happen to you Vernon.”

Not knowing what to say to you, he just apologized and kissed you, trying to kiss away the pain he had caused you. “I love you, so much.” You helped the other remove their clothes, running hands gently over skin once it was revealed.

You were hyper aware of the bruises and wounds that were scattered along him, making sure to not put too much pressure on any of them. When you raised your hips to sink down on his cock, you didn’t bounce like Vernon normally preferred, instead you rolled your hips, knowing that it would be easier on his sore muscles.

Groans filled the room as Vernon filled you, both of you throwing you heads back at the feeling. Vernon’s breath got caught in his throat, causing him to let out a choked noise. As soon as his cock was wrapped in your warm, tight walls, he could feel his mind go blank.

The pace you and Vernon silently agreed on was lazy and soft, not the rough, fast pace the two of you were used to. It was nice though, it felt like how “making love” was supposed to be like. “You feel so good Vernon.” You let your head fall to Vernon’s shoulder, your chests flushed together, and you could feel the other’s breath fan across your skin.

Vernon smiled, liking the feeling of your skin on his, the chilled temperature of yours against the feverishness of his. He turned his head so he could look at you, and the sight he was blessed upon made his cock throb inside of you. Your eyes were shut, not too tightly since you were relaxed, and your mouth was parted slightly. Little huffs of air escaping as you rolled your hips.

He then looked down, gazing at the way your hips slowly roll into his, seeing how your naval would be against his lower abdomen and would fall back to just return to that spot. Vernon watched your hips quicken their pace, chasing the high that you were creating for both of you. Your walls constricted around his dick, helping him get closer to his edge as well.

After letting you control everything for the entire time, as Vernon was about to cum, he needed you to speed up. He grabbed your hips and started rolling them into his, even lifting you off of him just to slam you back down. The noises leaving you both filled the room and soon your toes were curling, and you were cumming onto his dick. His release followed yours and he filled you, watching some leak out of you and down his cock.

The stressfulness of the day and what you just did was catching up with you and Vernon, both of you quickly using the bathroom and wiping up the sweat and cum so you could fall asleep and start the new day. Vernon held you close to him for the entire night, whispering his apologies for upsetting you earlier that night, and saying he’ll make it up to you, some way, sometime soon.

After the talk you and Vernon had that night, he pulled himself from all matches that were in the near future. Listening to your concerns and allowing his body to fully heal before he caused any more harm to it. He waited for the wounds to seal and the bruises to fade until he started training again, not wanting to hurt himself anymore, for your sake.

Vernon had been back to working out and training for about a week, after watching your reactions to his once black and blue skin turn its natural color again. When you didn’t wince when you saw his abdomen, he figured it was safe again.

The procrastination hit and the motivation you had to complete schoolwork had disappeared and you decided that whatever Vernon was doing was much more interesting. Walking into gym you saw Vernon who had his back to you. Seeing him train reminded you of something you had been thinking about for a while now.

You had been hesitant to ask him but watching him throw right and left hooks at the punching bag, you figured now would be a good time. "Vern?" You wait for him to acknowledge you before you begun again but instead of just asking you what, he stopped completely.

"What's up? Is everything okay?" He could sense your nervousness when he turned around. You laughed at yourself from thinking you should be nervous around him. "I was just- uh wondering if you could teach me how to box."

Vernon had been waiting for the day that would ask him to teach you a few moves. He wanted to spend time with you, while doing something he enjoyed, he wanted to share this aspect of his life with you, without you getting hurt. Also, you learning a few techniques wouldn’t be a waste of time, just in case something were to happen to you and Vernon wasn’t around, he wanted to be sure that you would be okay.

To start off with Vernon showed you how to wrap your wrists and hands before putting on the gloves, he also explained why wrapping your hands was necessary. He taught you how to actually punch and a good way to dodge other punches, before he threw you on the mats, asking you to spar. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you and wouldn’t let you hurt him, so you agreed.

All was going well until your glove hit the left side of his face, he made a pained noise and hit the floor. “Oh my god! Vernon, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” You gasped and fell to your knees, joining him on the mat. Moving his gloves from covering his face, you assessed the damage, only to see none. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Vernon’s act broke, he started laughing and it got worse when you started yelling at him.

“Are you fucking serious right now? I thought you were hurt, you asshole!” When Vernon started sitting up and reaching for you, you just pushed him back to the ground and tried to get up. His hand grabbed yours before you could get far and he pulled you to the ground with him, causing you to fall and land on top of his chest.

Vernon ignored your yells and squirms, keeping his arms wrapped around you tight until he was able to roll over, so you were under him. Sliding his hands down to your wrists, he brought both up above your head and held them both in one hand, pinning you under him. “Will you quit yelling? I know you like it when I manhandle you so give me a break. I was just gonna tell you what went wrong in that spar.”

“You didn’t have to scare me like that though.” Your volume was much lower than it had been but not because Vernon told you to be quiet. He was panting above you from fighting your squirming body and you couldn’t move. “Eh, I just wanted to have a bit of fun.” Your bottom lip jutted out, not liking to be teased.

You tried to turn your head to the side, but Vernon made that nearly impossible when he finally latched his lips to yours. Instead of fighting with him like you originally planned, you felt your once tense muscles relax and melt on the exercise mat below you. You shifted your hips, attempting to flip you and him over so you’d be on top, but Vernon caught it and let his body lay against yours, no longer holding himself up.

After the squeak you let out once the weight was out on you, the only thing heard throughout the home gym was your heavy breathing, your eyes zeroed in on Vernon’s face, everything else had gone blurry. The man above you smiled, sensing your nervousness. He knew you, whenever you were turned on, you would get incredibly nervous. You knew that he knew you, and that made you feel transparent, like Vernon could read your mind. Suddenly your throat felt dry, trying to swallow to regain moisture. “What’s the matter? Tell me what you need.”

At some point Vernon had released your wrists, giving you all control of them again. In the spur of the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brough his face closer to yours, initiating the kiss. Even though you were the one who started the kiss, Vernon had no problem reciprocating it, him also escalating it, of course.

“Vernon~” You whined against his lips, rolling your hips up to try and feel any kind of friction. “So fucking needy, aren’t you? Wanted me to teach you how to box and now you’re humping me?” Well now that Vernon replayed the events exactly for you, you felt embarrassed.

You don’t want the teasing, he was right, you were needy, and you needed him to fuck you. “Hm, yeah, need you cock, please Vern.” You babbled, already lost in the sense of him. His smell, the way he felt under your fingertips, the sight of him above you. You needed him.

“Haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already dripping through your pants, unbelievable.” His sight was focused on your clothed cunt, watching the wet spot grow with every word that fell out of his mouth. Vernon cursed to himself and set his weight on his knees so his upper body could be straight. He felt down your body until his hands landed to your hips, where the hem of your leggings were. Without saying anything he ripped your leggings and panties down your legs all at once and moved your legs apart from each other.

He moved down the mat until his face was inches from your bare pussy, he laid his body flat to the mat and took your legs and threw them over his shoulders. You’d never turn down getting head from him but what you wanted was his dick in you. “Want you-” before you could finish your sentence, you felt Vernon drag his tongue through your slit and you could hear the deep inhale that he let in through his nose, smelling your arousal. He never asked you to repeat what you were going to say, instead he played with your clit until you were begging him to not stop. Wrapping his lips around the hidden nub, he sucked harshly until your moans raised in volume. But he pulled away far too soon.

“Wha-” you picked your head up from it being against the mat and looked down at Vernon just in time to see him wipe off his face with the back of his hand. Smiling at you, he said “thought you wanted me in you? I gotta stop playing with your pussy so I can fuck it.” You just whined and had to let the building knot in you web away.

You couldn’t complain for too long though, because Vernon crawled up your body, so his face was above yours and his pelvis was lined up with yours. He drug the tip of his cock up your slit, lubing it up before he prodded at your clenching hole.

It wasn’t Vernon who pushed in however, your impatience took over and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him in you instead. He didn’t pull out but as slight punishment he slapped the meat of your thigh, hard. Hard enough for a sting to be left behind as he started thrusting in. The pain mixed with pleasure was something you didn’t mind though, making a mental note to talk to Vernon about that.

Vernon noticed that your mind had gone somewhere else, and he was determined to get all of your attention back on him and only him. “Where’d ya go baby, are you thinking about something else while I’m right here?” Your eyes refocused on the man above you and groaned, his voice was condescending, well aware of the affect that he had on you. “Open your mouth.”

Although you weren’t fully there, you still listened to Vernon and your mouth fell open immediately. You knew what was going to happen, and you didn’t mind, at all. He leaned down closer and collected spit from his mouth, he held your jaw steady and let the glob fall into your awaiting mouth.

He could feel your walls constrict around his cock and that let him know that he hit that specific spot inside of you that made you so submissive for him and that you enjoyed him treating you this way. Vernon took pride in pleasuring you, always making sure you felt good and comfortable, all while making sure you knew your place.

After teasing you for drifting off, he noticed that he did too, getting too caught up in the way he felt inside you, but you chanting his name pulled him out of his own head. His entire focus was on making you cum now, he kept hitting that gummy spot in you and brought his thumb to your clit, drawing fast circles on the bundle of nerves.

“I’m-I’m gonna cum Vernon, please, don’t stop, please.” He listed and sped up his pace, the sound of his hips slapping yours resonated around the room, echoing back to you slightly. Vernon groans when he felt your nails dig into his shoulders, he knew that there would be little crescent marks staring back at him through the mirror in the morning.

Soon he felt your body tense up and your legs that were wrapped around him started shaking, the pleasure spreading throughout your entire body, it all became too much, and your vision was spotty. Vernon let you ride out your high and he slowly pulled out and jerked off over you, finally cumming on your stomach.

He rolled over to lay beside you and rubbed your arm, calming you down the best he could. “You okay baby?” Your head lolled over to the side, facing him. “Yeah, m’okay Vern. Feel good.” The lazy smile you sent his way caused his heart to pound. “I love you.” You reached for your discarded leggings, happy you chose to where a black pair, and wiped up the cum on your stomach. Once you were satisfied with lack of it on you, your rolled over to your side and scooted close to Vernon. Your chests touching now and your head laying on his stretched-out arm.

“I love you too, so much.” He whispered into your hair, glad to feel you so close. Vernon noticed that your eyes were starting to droop, and he knew that you hated waking up feeling gross. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can sleep, okay?”

With only one groan in protest, you let Vernon pick you up bridal style and take you to the bathroom. “Do you want a shower or a bath? A shower will be quicker, and you can sleep sooner.” You looked up at him and just leaned your head on his chest, trying not to fall asleep. “How about we shower, and I hold you up?” You nodded and Vernon made sure to quickly but thoroughly clean you, taking extra precaution when he cleaned your lower body.

You were sure you fell asleep in the shower, because when Vernon was carrying you out, you couldn’t recall half of the time you were in there. Apologizing immediately to him, he just shook it off, instead he apologized for wearing you out that much, which just caused you to giggle and shake your head.

When Vernon went to grab a pair of pajamas for you, you turned them down and asked if the two of you could sleep nude, you justified your request by stating that you wanted to feel close to him while you slept. He laughed a bit but agreed nonetheless and finished drying the two of you off.

He carried you over to your bed and laid you underneath the blankets. “Do you want the fan on?” He started walking over to his side, passing the fan when you said no. Vernon joined you under the blankets, barely getting comfortable before you were laying on top of him. With him rubbing your back and humming, you feel asleep quite fast, Vernon stayed up a bit later to continue rubbing your back, not wanting the feeling of him stopping to cause you to wake up, so he made sure you were already in a deep sleep before he allowed himself to join you.

“I love you, so much, I don’t thank you enough for what you do for me.”

#female reader #x reader #kpop #smut #fluff #seventeen #svt #chwe hansol #vernon smut #svt vernon #svt smut #svt fanfic #chwe vernon #boxer au #black eye #vernon black eye

740 notes · View notes

pockcock · 3 years

Note

No thoughts. Pussy dwelling on Erwin's fingers edging you until you're a begging mess though. (Because let's face it, we all know the calluses on his hands feel like heaven when his tongue eases the feeling soon after-)

"whore mouth" // erwin smith x f!reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

word count: 2.4k

a/n: Oh god I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I'M SORRY I'M SORRYYYY :( This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away... Anyways. ENJOY <3

tw// porn with very little plot. impact play. slapping. jealous!erwin. sugardaddy!erwin. dom!erwin. sadist!erwin. edging. cunnilingus. breath play. dumbification. spitting. forced orgasm. slight blood. squirting. clit slapping. slight consensual non-con (reader and erwin have a dom/sub relationship). prey-predator if you squint. usage of "whore, slut, bitch". aftercare.

Erwin isn't the jealous type in your eye. He is a confident man, he is fierce. He is the CEO of the Corps Ltd. after all. He isn't jealous, people are jealous of him.

But the look he gave you at the party made you lose your ability to breathe.

He bought this black silk dress for you a couple of weeks ago. It arrived at your door by his assistant, Armin, a pretty young boy. He reminded you of Erwin, only young and naive. You felt incredible in the fabric, it felt as if the dress was made for you and you only. Everything was right about the dress. But you didn't have any opportunity to wear it. Until tonight.

"Here we are, madam," Armin spoke, his eyes met yours from the rearview mirror. It was obvious that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from your beautifully exposed chest and perky nipples showing through the dress. "Mr. Smith is waiting for you inside."

You thanked him and carefully got out of the car not letting your dress go even higher. As you entered the hotel where the party was being hosted, your eyes found your pretty CEO. Surrounded by his close friends Miche and Levi, he was laughing. He was wearing his brand new black Hermes set with a gold detailed Versace tie. Then he saw you, his whole expression changed. The bright, playful eyes turned into loving ones.

"My sunshine," he greeted you with open arms, calling you in. "She is finally here!"

You walked towards him. "Traffic hold me hostage!"

A little laugh escaped his lips as he hugged you. But his words were far far away from his laugh. "Why the fuck are you wearing that?"

You hugged him, hiding your surprised and sad face in his neck. "I-I thought you'd enjoy it..."

He let you go, fixed your hair a bit. Cupping your cheeks, he said: "We'll talk about it when we go home, okay? Now let's enjoy our party." And, uh, what a bastard he is, to put the smile back into your face, he added. "You're looking like a swan."

And the rest of the night was almost perfect. Erwin introduced you as "My cup of sunshine!" to his friends, co-workers, business partners. He complimented you, let others compliment you and he even let Miche steal you for the dance and touch your bareback with his enormous hands. He let Zeke kiss your hand which was decorated by the ring Erwin gave. Everything went smoothly.

And yet, here you were, in front of him. Couldn't even look at his face because of the humiliation and mockery he possessed in his eyes.

"Tell me, princess. Why did you wear that?" he asked, emphasizing the word 'that'.

"I'm sorry-"

Your head went to your right with the impact. Your left cheek was burning and you were in shock. Did he slap you?

"I'm not asking for your apology. I'm asking for the reason."

You lifted your head, eyes filled with fear. "I-"

Another slap. This one hurt more than the other. "Stop this fucking nonsense and answer me." His voice was calm, steady. It contained no anger or fury.

"I thought..." A tear left your eye, you wiped it with the back of your hand. "I thought y-you'd like it."

Another slap. "Did you get the note I sent with the dress? I remember putting it into the box myself. I even attached it to the dress with an anklet. Remember?"

"Yes."

Another slap, you fell onto the ground. "What did it say?"

A sob left your lips. "I-I don't..."

"You don't what, princess?" He kneeled down. He grabbed your chin, lifting it up and looking directly into your teary eyes. "Tell me."

" I don't remember!" You screamed it out. Humiliation now took over your body, making you ache in pain. It was also creating a pool between your legs. "I don't remember, Erwin! I'm so-"

Another slap. "You don't get to say my name tonight." He took his jacket off, then his tie, he threw both across the room. He talked as he rolled his sleeves up. “You don’t deserve to say my name with that whore mouth.”

He yanked your hair making you scream in pain, he slammed you into the wall. The photos fell down, shattered. His rough hands ripped the dress’ straps, making it fall onto the floor, pooling around your feet. “I bought this for my eyes. My pleasure.” He slapped your right breast harshly. “You are mine.” He pinched your cheeks together, making you open your mouth. “That’s what I wrote, stupid whore.” He spitted onto your tongue, it tasted like whiskey and cigar. Then he covered your mouth and your nose, not letting you breathe. “Swallow.”

You did as he said. How couldn’t you?

“Open your mouth, tongue out.” He let go of your mouth, wanted to see your mouth empty. You inhaled in relief, brain too hazy to understand anything. He slapped you again. “Open your fucking mouth.”

“Erwin!” You screamed with pain again.

He laughed and let your hair go, you fell down with the sudden movement. “Your stupid brain can’t understand a word I say, right?” He grabbed you by the neck, lifting your fragile body up. “What are you good for? Oh, right! Being a whore, now I remember.”

You grabbed his forearm, nails digging into his skin. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything. You tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. The worst part wasn’t him being harsh with you. It was him being calm as usual, never shouting, never talking with clenched teeth. Even his damn expression was calm. His damn eyebrows weren’t furrowed. That scared you.

“Stop,” he said, pushing your hands away with a harsh move. You made his arms bleed a little. He looked at you unimpressed. “You never understand, do you?”

He took you to your shared bedroom, threw you onto the bed. You tried to get away, silly you, where could you go. Your makeup was a mess, mascara running down onto your cheeks as your tears left your eyes, painting your face black. Crying loudly, you screamed once more. “Please! Please don’t!” You tried to stop him. “Daddy please!”

He choked you, again, harsher this time. You held onto his arms, wishing he would let you breathe just once. Slammed your weak body into the mattress, he ripped your panties. “You’re begging me not to do anything, yet you’re soaking like a fucking slut.” Without warning, he pushed his thick middle and ring finger inside you. “See? You take my fingers like a slut too!” Amusement coated his tone. “You either want my fingers or my dick. You just want to be my pocket pussy, right, slut?” He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, wet noises filled the room. “Stupid whore.”

Your eyes rolled back. Everything was too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain, too little air. Your brain was shutting down slowly, you couldn’t think straight. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to beg him to fuck you with his huge cock. Wanted him to take you then and there, without preparation. Yet, the only thing you could do was to moan, like a stupid whore. His voice echoed in your brain. You got closer, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pretty spot. It was too much?

“You’re cumming already?” He mocked, his pace quickened. “You won’t. Hold it.”

Your fingernails once again found the little cuts they made previously, digging even harder as the pleasure built up. You were losing consciousness due to the lack of oxygen in your body. You couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hold your orgasm, couldn’t stop him.

Erwin felt your orgasm before you. He pulled his hands away from you. “Open your legs. Ruin it. Don’t cum.”

You couldn’t.

The pleasure hit you, hit your body like a truck. With the sudden feeling of air coming into your lungs, your legs started trembling. Your whole body clenched, shaking like your vibrator Erwin bought you for your birthday. Your eyes snapped open and you felt something coming out of your cunt, wetting your legs, the bed and Erwin in front of you. You squirted.

“Fuck…” You heard Erwin cursing under his breath. His pants were soaking wet.

“D-Daddy...” You reached out for him, eyes barely functioning after the intense orgasm. “I-I’m sorry, I co-uldn’t hold it… I couldn't ruin it!”

He tsked. “Princess, what have you done?”

Your eyes filled with tears once again. You were slowly regaining your ability to think. “Daddy... I’m sorry…”

He sat next to you, pushed the hair from your face. “Shh, don’t talk…” He cupped your cheeks. “Maybe I was a bit too harsh for you.” He leaned down to kiss your puffy lips. “But you still need to be punished baby.”

Before you could protest, he spanked your clit.

“You were being a whore today.” Spank. “And you were also being a bad girl.” Spank. “You didn’t listen to me.” Spank. “But now,” Spank. “You’ll be cumming from this.”

You did. You didn’t know you could. But you did. And he didn’t stop.

“Daddy! S-Stop! I’ve come already” You tried to close your legs, the pleasure was turning into pain with each slap. “Can’t take it! Daddy I’m cumming!”

“Yes, babygirl,” He whispered. His eyes were locked into your, his pupils had expanded. “You’re cumming again. And you’ll be cumming again. And again. Until I’m done with you.”

“Daddy!”

His spanks became even faster and harder, hitting that sensitive bud throbbing in a mixture of pain and pleasure. When you opened your mouth to moan, he spitted onto your tongue once again. “Don’t swallow. Stick your tongue out, slut,” he said as his other hand caressed your hair. “Let yourself drool like a stupid whore.” His words, his actions… Everything was so complicated. Making you feel even more stupid.

After cumming another four times you were a drooling, dripping mess. You were lost your sight. Everything was spinning, the ceiling, Erwin in front of you, and you. Your breaths were unsteady, you couldn’t even hear your heartbeat because of its speed.

Erwin patted your cheek. “Don’t faint on me now, bitch.”

“D-Daddy…”

He smiled. “Shh, princess. I know.” His hands came down on your face to wipe your tears away. “I’m proud of you.” He kissed your forehead. “Now, I’m going to eat you out, ‘kay? I wanna taste my pretty pocket pussy.”

You squinted your eyes to see him. Your eyes filled with tears once again. Your makeup was already ruined and smudged into the sheets. “Please daddy! I can’t take-”

“Shut up, baby.” He stood up, got between your legs and pulled you towards his face. Erwin loved your pussy so much, he could live in there forever. He inhaled the heavenly scent and licked your slit, drinking everything you offered. “It’s my pussy and I chose to do whatever I want.”

You tried to push him, kick him away. Nothing worked. Erwin Smith, ate your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He ate your cum, drank your juices, sucked on your clit and fucked you with his tongue. His face was sweaty, his perfect hair stuck onto his forehead. His naked chin was now coated with your nectar. He made you cum again, leaving you breathless, sucking your soul out of your body. He made you cum, made you squirt onto his face. He was pussy drunk, couldn’t let you go. Couldn’t stop sucking your clit. He loved the way your legs trembled after each orgasm. He loved the way you screamed “Daddy!” first and when he didn’t stop you screamed “Erwin!”. He loved the way you babble nonsense trying to apologize from him. Stupid slut, he thought. And ate you out until your whole body went numb.

When he was finally done, both of you were panting. You were barely awake, holding onto nothing but trying your best not to lose consciousness. Erwin was tired, tired from eating you out, fingering you and taking your soul away from you. He got up, laid right next to you. He adored this sight; you, completely fucked up and ruined. He did this without putting his cock in you. He was proud.

“Are you with me princess?” He whispered into the night. He was being cautious.

You nodded weakly.

“Good girl,” he said. Kissed your forehead slowly he cupped your cheeks. “Can you give me a color baby?” You were using a color system alongside your safeword. It was for your safety.

“Y-Yellow…” Your voice was hoarse after all the screaming.

He furrowed his brows. He was too harsh on you. “I’m sorry, kitten.” He carefully flipped you onto your side, hugging your back tightly, he kissed your shoulder. “I was too harsh on you. I’m so sorry baby.”

A sob escaped your lips. “But you didn’t cum…”

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’ve done so well. I got pleasure from your pleasure. I'm not important. You are. Your pleasure is. You did so well. So well baby. That’s what is important. I got you now, okay? I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I got you. I’ll never leave you.”

You stayed there, tangled together for a long time. Erwin kissed your shoulders, back and hair, his calloused hands caressed your arms. When the extreme pleasure made you clench again, he hugged you tighter, whispering. “Calm down, baby. I got you.” He made sure you were fully okay after your intense session.

“D-Daddy?”

His heart shattered into thousand pieces after hearing that tone in your voice. “You can say my name baby, it’s over now.”

“Erwin,” you said almost hesitantly. “C-Can I go to the bathroom? I need to pee.”

His eyes snapped open. Right, you had to. “Yes baby, let me take you there.” He took you into his arms bridal style. “And we’ll take a bath, I really want to try that lavender bath bomb you bought. Is that okay baby?”

You snuggled into his shirt, it was still wet after your countless orgasms.

After you were done with everything, you were in your marble bathtub with Erwin. A purple color was prominent in the water, making you feel safe. You leaned into his chest filled with little patches of thin gold hair even more. He was your home.

“Erwin?” you asked, melting into his touches.

“Yes, princess?”

“How many times did I cum?” You asked, lifted your head to look at him. You loved that expression. You could see surprise, confusion, calculation and answer in seconds.

“Thirty..” he furrowed his thick brows, he was counting. “Thirty-nine.” Then he realized what he said. His eyes opened up with amazement. “Oh.”

“Yeah..” you said, a chuckle left your chest.

“We broke our record!”

taggings: @maries-gallery @st-arlert (you have to read this baby, no escapes) @azazelles

#impact play tw #dumbification tw #breath play tw #slapping tw #noncon tw #predator tw #erwin smut #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #snk erwin #erwin smith #erwin x you #attack on titan #aot smut #snk smut #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin

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darthmaulification · 3 years

Text

din djarin nsfw alphabet

A/N: i STILL have writer’s block when it comes to all the other stuff i have to get done that it’s INFURIATING. 🙄😤😡 i literally write two (2) sentences, and then my head says “no thoughts, all done :)”.

so anons still waiting on your stuff, have faith, i will get them done eventually!! 🙏🙏😭😭

but i want to get more stuff out more regularly, so take another nsfw alphabet, my brain is melting. 💗

(again, i imply fem!afab!reader and also, there is sensitive content (abortion) under X)

nsfw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Din may be a bit unsure at first, but he is so sweet when it comes to aftercare. He’s got a caring nature already, and when it comes to making sure you’re clean, comfortable, and content after sex, Din is very soft and gentle. He’ll be asking you the whole time about what you need, how you’re feeling, complimenting and praising you for being perfect. Once he’s done making sure you’re okay, Din will conclude every time with kisses and cuddles, holding you close to him all the while whispering to you in Basic and Mando’a about how much he loves you.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Honestly, Din has spent so long without showing someone else any part of him, that he is fairly insecure about how he looks. He’s a tad... embarrassed by his body, because he wants it to be perfect for you, but he doesn’t feel like it is (of course, you think he’s perfect). Din has a lot of self-criticisms, he worries that he’s too old for you, that his nose is too big for your liking, that he’s got a soft tummy and not like men your age. So Din doesn’t have a favorite body part, he’ll just like anything that you like.

Now on you... Din is a big fan of your face. He comes from a culture where one’s face is kept hidden unless you’re family or spouse, so to have you in all your glory and beauty is almost overwhelming to him. He loves your eyes especially (windows to the soul, and all), how they’re so expressive, what they look like when he’s fucked you cockdumb... all glossy and hazed... Din also loves your lips in particular too, the smile that tugs them up, what they look like when you say his name... and for another obvious reason that tends to happen when you’re below his belt on your knees...

(Also Din is a boobie man, full stop).

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Din cums a lot, and he wants it all over you. If you let him, he’ll splatter his nut on your face, belly, breasts, ass, and other places that he loves and wants marked. He likes seeing you all messy and sticky, covered in the stuff that he creates just for you. Din goes kinda feral though if you beg him to cum inside you, allow him to bottom out and let loose past your tight cervix straight into your womb... makes his brain fizzle out. Also, Din’s cum tastes abnormally sweet, almost too sugary, much like the sweet man himself.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

Din wants to be cucked. Like he really wants to watch someone else fuck you (consensually, of course), and him not being able to do anything about it. It’d be such a fucking tease and edge for him that the thought makes him feel some sort of way in his pants.

Also, not so much of a secret but still dirty, Din can play the role of a dom to a T, but in his heart, he’s a sub. Just take the reins on day, there’s not much he’d be compelled to do to stop you.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Most, if not all, of Din’s sexual experiences before you were clumsy, quick fucks with sex workers at brothels or cantinas. He had most of them when the desire became to high to ignore, so really the closest around satisfied him enough. And although most of the conquests had no specialness or emotion to them, they did shape the way Din moved around bodies, aided in his ability to please and such. So Din is rather experienced, he knows what he’s doing and how to make things steamy, but he’s really never been able to truly connect with someone before. Even though he’s well versed in the art of sex, there’s a few learning curves for him to accomplish, particularly making sure he meets your needs the way you want them met, not how he thinks you may want to do things.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

By far, Din loves nothing more but to bend you over a table, or the console board of the Razor Crest, and pound into you from behind like there’s no tomorrow. He loves to have the warmth of your ass, heavy and plush, against his pelvis all while he’s up to the hilt inside your core. Din also likes the control it gives him, having you squirming and moaning under him, one of his hands heavy on your back keeping you down while the other squeezes your thighs and hips, or plays with your clit. Din might also get a bit grabby with your hair, pulling back your head enough so that he can nibble at your neck and hiss all the dirty things he wants into your ear.

The close second for his favorite position though is having you tied up to the bed, wrists and ankles bound. It’s one of Din’s favorite sights in the entire galaxy.

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Din is serious about making sure he’s doing all he can to make you a moaning, cockdumb mess, that’s for damn sure. He’s very driven in that regard, serious about the task at hand and all the things he has to do to make sure you know just how much he loves you. Din isn’t a stoic robot though, he’s too vibrant and compassionate of a man for that, so he’ll being saying sweet things to get you to blush and smile, grinning against the shell of your ear before kissing your neck, maybe nipping playfully at your ass or stomach too... Din knows how to give a good time.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Din is a functionalist, so he likes to keep his bush below the belt to a minimum, or at least manageable, so he trims it and sometimes shaves it fully. Though he does have a tendency to let it grow a bit if he’s having a dry spell or if he just doesn’t have the motivation... but once the tuft starts catching on the zip to his pants (he goes commando, the dork), that’s when Din knows he’s got to shave. All his body hair elsewhere; head, face, legs, back, arms, etc, Din doesn’t care much about except his moustache and tasteful stubble which he does really like to keep. Of course, Din keeps everything as clean as a whistle.

On his partners, Din doesn’t have much of a preference, but he does lean towards someone who at least keeps their stuff trimmed (and clean, of course). However, he won’t force you to do anything, it’s your body, your decisions.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Just... so intimate. Of course, Din fucks like a beast in rut, but he’s so consuming and raw with it, it’s nothing short of perfect. Din wears his heart on his sleeve, so sex is constant “I love yous” in every word and action, even when it’s all vulgarity and dirty and horny, but it’s love nonetheless. You’re able to feel it from how he presses against you, molds against you like liquid heat, how his hands make your body his own, how he kisses you with stars in his eyes, how he tells you over and over again both vocally and silently, “Thank you”.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... it depends on his mood. He masturbated more when he was younger, when he had more time and drive to do so. Though once he got older, and life happened, and he’s almost non-stop running around chasing quarries... Din’s just too darn tired. It got even less so when Grogu came into his life, because oh my Maker the horror Din would feel if somehow his son caught him in the act. But Din is only human, and has that accursed Mandalorian sex drive, so sometimes the urge does rear it’s head, and he’s gotta make his hand and penis best friends again.

Doesn’t help when you’re occupying his thoughts either.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Y’know that cliché where it’s like “normal looking person whose an absolute freak in the sheets”? Yeah, that’s Din. This man is the epitome of that. Here’s his kinks:

Bondage. Din really likes the sight of you tied up on the bed, at his mercy like a bunny in a hunter’s trap. He wants to have you bound by your wrists and ankles, maybe even tying you to the bedposts, and fucking you senseless while you beg to be able to touch him too. Din favors using handcuffs (technically binders, but Star Wars lingo is silly sometimes), but he’ll use whatever you’re okay with too. And, of course, if bondage isn’t your thing, he won’t ever force you to do it. (psst, Din doesn’t mind being tied up either)

Spanking. Kind of the only aspect of the “S” part of BDSM that Din will every really partake in. He likes landing a good few firm swats on your flanks, likes seeing your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of it, the bright flush that may appear afterwards if you let him go at it a while. Din also likes just being able to touch your ass too, so a nice spank to your bottom becomes the physical message of “You’re in for it tonight, mesh’la”. Oh, and he’ll make you count.

Daddy kink. Oh Maker, if you call him Daddy, he’ll lose his mind. Din has such a big Daddy kink that even if you call him it in a nonsexual situation, he’ll be feeling that warmth until he’s able to steal you away and rail you good. He loves being the Daddy and you being his “Sweet girl” or “Cyar’ika”... the dynamic runs him wild.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. Din wants to fuck a baby into you so badly he dreams about it. It’s been impounded into him that family and parenthood are really big deals, so you bet your ass he wants to fulfill that part of his Creed by making sure your pussy’s stuffed, womb is filled to the brim, and your breasts are swollen and milky. Din wants so so deeply to see you pregnant with the kid that you and him make, he desperately wants a family with you.

Breast/nipple kink. Yeah, Din really really likes your tits. There’s something about the shape, the texture, size, weight, etc that activates some primal monkey part of his brain that has him drooling. Din loves to knead and fondle your breasts, roll them under his large hands, press them together, watch the soft flesh squish and mold around his fingers. He especially loves the cute nipples of yours, pinching them between his fingers, tweaking them. Din also really likes sucking on your tits, leaving marks all over them, playing with your nipples with his tongue...

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

When you both have the opportunity, Din really really likes taking you in a good, proper bedroom, something that the uncomfortable, tiny bunk on the Razor Crest really doesn’t account for. If it were up to him, he’d want to spend his entire life with you in bedroom fit for a king, taking you over and over again on a mattress that feels like a cloud. It’s no shock then whenever Din actually shills out the credits (being the frugal man he is) to buy a hotel room is the sex borderline godlike.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

A sure-fire way to get Din fully and completely riled up would be to wear something real scandalous. Be that a shirt that shows a tad bit more, or pants that are tight enough to reveal you aren’t wearing panties, or (Din’s favorite) a set of cute lingerie... Din will get hard in his pants. It’d be even more so if you tease him in public, but be warned he’ll fuck you mean for that.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Very early on, it was, obviously, taking off his helmet. If you asked, or Maker forbid tried, the mood would drop pretty extensively if not entirely from Din. He’d get uncomfortable, go silent, and the first time it happened, he left the room. Removal of the helmet was a very big one before he eventually showed you his face.

After you’ve been able to kiss his face over and over again and cry because you think he’s so beautiful? Nothing comes to Din’s mind really besides the kinks that are... nastier. Like literally, y’know... some other bodily... stuffs. Anyways, Din is pretty adaptable when it comes to kinks/positions and stuff. The pros of already being a kinky man...

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Okay, Din really loves his dick sucked. The way that you wrap your lips around his shaft, kiss the tip of his penis, fondle his balls, lick and slobber on him... makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. He especially loves being able to watch you try and take all of him in your throat, seeing the tears of pleasure squeeze out your eyes, the way you hollow your cheeks around him and suck. Din loves it when you go down on him.

... Now that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like going down on you. There is no place Din would want to be more than with his face between your legs, lapping at you like a starving animal. He’ll spend hours with his mouth on your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit, driving orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re shaking from overstimulation and begging him to stop. Din loves your pussy, the way you taste and smell... drives him wild.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

Din will most often rail you into the mattress with a fervor. He tends to fuck hard, and he likes to play rough. The pace he keeps is something that makes you see stars every time he thrusts, when he ruts into you so hard that your entire body moves. However, Din does this all with a type of passionate sensuality that leaves you in tears, he fucks you sure, but it’s also fully fueled by unwavering love. When he’s feeling especially sentimental, Din will indulge on this love, and he’ll go slower, deeper, make you feel nothing but the weight of him.

And PDA... Well, Din doesn’t take the helmet or beskar off in public, so PDA is every time Din steps in front of you to shield you protectively, it’s when he offers to carry whatever you’re holding, it’s when he fights for you, it’s when he stands close to your side, when he sends you long side-eyed glances that make you feel the love, it’s when he nudges your shoulder with his, when he lets you wrap your fingers around his, when he drapes you with his cloak, surrounding you with him... It’s the little, subtle things, the personal things that mean you’re closer to him than anyone else.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Maker, yes. Din becomes kinda addicted to having sex with you, so any and all chance to pull down his and yours pants and rut you both into a quick release is perfect for him. They don’t happen all that often, you’re both too busy most of the time, but if there’s a window of opportunity, Din will take it.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Din’s kinda a big baby, so anything you may want to try with him in the bedroom that’s out of the norm will have him a stuttering, blushing mess. Most of the time though, once you’ve explained whatever you’re wanting enough, he’ll be down to do it because he knows you’re fine with it, and so is he. Though Din has his limits, a few things in particular that he’d never risk: safety and his Creed. He won’t ever try something that would potentially put the both of you in mortal danger, and wouldn’t do something that breaks his Code. Other than that, Din does enjoy pushing the boundaries a little once you’ve started, and he might even become more advantageous.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

Din can last long enough, that’s for sure. He’s not borderline superhuman like some other men, but Din doesn’t tap out early either. With the skill he has with his hands, he’s easily able to make you cum a couple times before he dicks you down, and sometimes he’s even able to draw out an orgasm or two when he’s balls deep inside you. It all usually depends on his energy level, if he’s pumped up and well rested, expect a long, long night, but if he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, honestly he might just cum if you jerk him off a little bit.

Though sleepy sex with Din, although it’s very short, is also a bit of an exercise in absolute trust with him. He’s able to fall asleep in your arms, all worn out and buzzing from his orgasm, it makes him feel fully at peace.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Haha, no. Din is such a minimalist, he didn’t own any type of luxury like that, unless you count the handcuffs, but he technically uses those for his job. It really is he just doesn’t have the space nor the credits he’s willing to spare, and he didn’t have a partner before you so really it would’ve been pointless for him. But now that he’s got you in his life (and bed)? Yeah, Din might splurge a little bit and buy some things to make your romps a bit more... interesting. Be that a vibrator, some silky rope, a plug... just some fun things.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He likes to tease, because edging you edges him and that satiates the deep-rooted sub inside of him. Din likes to have you begging for release just as much as he likes the feeling of his cock practically screaming to sink into your velvety core. The teasing really goes both ways, even if Din is the one who’s technically doing all of it. He also gets really into dirty talk (for as long as he can actually speak) and will be saying all sorts of nasty things in your ear like “C’mon, cyar’ika, tell me you want my fingers” or “Pretty girl, use your words. You want my cock or no?”.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Din is loud, but in a quiet type of way? He like... whisper yells, like his voice is already naturally low, so when he’s got you all in his grasps it’s like the volume of his voice doesn’t increase, but the intensity does? Din fills the room, essentially, being the only thing you hear, even over your own moans, squeals, screams, etc. It’s mostly a lot of strained dirty talk, like each word Din says to you is determined, but he’s got to push them through clenched teeth because his dick’s twitching so hard and your pussy is just too good... and shit, once you’ve drawn the first moan out of him, it’s over for him. Din will be moaning. Once he’s lost in the sauce, which happens sorta quickly, Din becomes just as incoherent as you, maybe being able to babble out something about seeing you fat with child or maybe about how well you’re swallowing up his cock, but it really devolves into lengthy, horny moans and hefty grunts. So yes, our man’s is loud.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

Din loves when you tell him how much you think he’s attractive. He’s spent basically his whole life with his face in a bucket and his body in armor, so he’s never gotten compliments about his authentic self before. This kind of hampered his self-confidence and racked up his insecurity? Din doesn’t necessarily have any specific qualms with how he looks, but he also is very unsure of how you think of him. So when you tell him that you love his face; his crooked, hooked nose, his soft, honey brown eyes, his patchy stubble, and even his ridiculous moustache... it makes his heart soar.

This same sentiment goes for his body too, which Din does have a couple of more prominent issues with. For one, he’s a tad soft around the middle (age + indulging himself + taking excessive off days = weight gain) which makes him feel semi-insecure about what you may think when you don’t see chiseled, perfect abs, and he’s just generally self-conscious about his age. But when you’re fine with it? When you say you find his chub endearing?? That he’s really not that old and that he shouldn’t worry about it??? Din is beyond happy.

And in a complete 180, Din has a very high sperm count. Like astronomically high. A medical marvel type of high. So... if you indulge on his desire for a big family... expect a lot of little Djarin brats really fast.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Din is built like a himbo. He’s built like he’d ask you what pussy size do you wear when he buys pads for you. He’s built like the dude that comes into the store you work at every so often who’s just so captivating and out of this world handsome that you stare at him as he looks at the same thing he always does, until he leaves after not buying it for the third week in a row. He has a very good figure, muscular in all the right places from a lifetime of brutal physical activity. Din’s arms and shoulders are probably his best feature, the entirety of the appendages being toned with taut, powerful muscle and perfect for holding you. His chest is quite toned as well, though his pecs are softer and have a smattering of chest hair brushed on the muscles. Although he has a relatively trim waist and a defined Adonis belt, Din’s belly is actually pretty soft. He’s like a muscular boy, but with a bit more chub (if anyone gets that reference, you’re extra sexy), so Din doesn’t have a defined set of abs. He does have a dark happy trail that leads to the special someone between his thick-muscled thighs.

He also, from time and age, has a bit of a weathered look to him that makes him look experienced and jaded. His body also has a smattering of scars, most of them old and silvered, from scuffles and fights he’s had in his past.

Big Dick Cum Daddy Din is hung. His penis is a mouth-watering 9 inches (22.86 cm) of throbbing glory, not overly girthy (2 inches, 5.08 cm, in width) but perfect nonetheless. He has a very prominent vein on the bell end of his cock, as well as fairly defined ridges on the sides, like he’s fucking ribbed for your pleasure. His penis is actually circumcised, so the head of his cock gets especially red once you’ve got all the blood and horniness in his loins. Din’s balls are perfect too, weighty things that hang a bit lower that only shows their virility.

Din is pro-choice. He’s a firm believer in people having autonomy over their bodies and having the ability to choose. So when it comes to abortion, even though the thought admittedly makes Din a little uncomfortable, he would fully support his partner choosing to have one, if that was their decision.

Also, Din is a bisexual icon, I don’t make the rules.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yes. Ever since you come into his life, Din is horny like a teen boy all over again, it’s almost ridiculous. At the very beginning, it’s just a lot of him fantasizing about what he wants to do to you, because A) you’ve both just met, B) his Creed, and C) it’d be so embarrassing for him for you to find out how much you affect him. But once you two start getting closer, and spend weeks and months dancing around each other, Din starts to get a bit more flirty, more frisky. You definitely start noticing how much he’s wanting you, so really it comes to the point that at any time you reciprocate your feelings and consent, Din will be on you in a second. After that first time, it’s over for y’all. Din will want to fuck all the time, everywhere, whenever possible. Your pussy becomes his dick’s permanent home.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Din isn’t an easy sleeper in general, so after sex it’s really not much different. It always takes a while for him to fall asleep, so you’ll definitely be passed out before he even starts to feel tired. He’ll spend most of his time after making sure you’re taken care of with his exquisite aftercare, and then mumble sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep. Even after you’re out, Din will still lie awake and talk to you quietly about anything and everything that comes to mind before he eventually falls asleep too.

#star wars #star wars din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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jooniyah · 4 years

Text

Poison Apple

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, forced witness, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, and murder.

Word count: 22.35k

I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright.

- William Blake

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years now. Please don’t come at my throat, it is non-con yandere. Enjoy!

*****

“Baby?” you chirped, watching your husband absent-mindedly stare at the windows. You huffed, turning off the stove and brandishing the ladle at him.

“Honey? You didn’t tell me if it tasted good.”

He didn’t respond, clutching the half-eaten pork rib, lost in thought.

“YOONGI,” you called out, shaking him by the shoulders, “Look at me.”

He snapped out of his trance, looking at you with bewildered eyes.

“Huh?”

The confusion on his face served to make him look even more lost.

“So, you never listened to my rant about Hoseok’s pork ribs?” He looked blank. “What happened to you, Yoongs?” you asked, clearing out the counter and perching on top of it next to him.

He sighed heavily and hung his head with a faint “Nothing.” As you stared at the soft whorl of his thick black hair, a rising panic bubbled up in your chest. It had been so long since your husband had talked more than five syllables with you. You had jumped out of bed on finding him missing one night, only to find him curled up on the terrace in the biting cold. Over the course of days, his eyes had become bloodshot. He had suddenly become a light sleeper, waking up startled on the slightest of noises. Now, looking at him, you found he had become gaunt and morbidly pale. What was it that ate away at his soul like this? He hadn’t been to his office in days, and he had switched off his work phone. You drummed your fingers nervously on the counter. Was he… was he trying to hide something from you? If so, what was it? You couldn’t help biting your nails in apprehension. Was it an affair? Was it guilt that had made him unable to look at your face? Had he cheated on you? No. You couldn’t think of marriage-killing stuff like that ever happening between you guys.

“Baby,” you tried again, reaching out to entwine his bony fingers in yours. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right? Just tell me, baby, it is killing me to see you like this.”

He remained silent, the only acknowledgment of your words being a slight squeeze of your fingers. You waited in companionable silence, holding his hand and looking at the rays of light flooding in through the windows. As you were watching little particles dancing in the sunlight, there was a harsh squeal of tires outside. Like a bullet from a gun, Yoongi jumped off the counter and dashed to the windows. He looked out and jumped back as if he were electrocuted. He tugged the blinds harshly and ran to you, clutching your hand and dragging you off the counter.

“Baby, wha…”

He turned around and you saw his countenance had grown paler than ever, all the blood drained from his face. He urgently shushed you, pulling you flush against his body and sprinting to the door. Just as his fingers circled the doorknob, the door flew wide open, crashing against the wall with a heavy thud.

Men kept storming in, all heavyset and brawny. As they closed in on you both, Yoongi slid himself in front of you, shielding you as much as he could. The men advanced towards him, causing him to back further until you were pressed against the wall. Suddenly there was a hush inside the room, and you peeked out to see a tall man entering your home in unhurried strides. The men parted like water, allowing him to amble easily towards Yoongi. He had a shock of dark hair, which was long enough to dance on his eyebrows as he walked. He was dressed all in black, his suit contrasting with his pale complexion and lending a mysterious air to him. He had broad shoulders and a slim waist, accentuated by the perfectly fitting suit.

One of the men brought him a chair, which he turned around and placed about an arm’s length from your husband. He draped his legs on the sides lazily, holding on to the top of the backrest and resting his chin on his forearms. He looked innocently at your husband, his dark eyebrows suddenly shooting up as he caught sight of your lithe body shielded by Yoongi’s lean frame. You had no idea who all these men were, but something told you they were not good news. You closed your eyes and held on to your husband’s shirt, wishing they would all go away quickly. There was a tense silence in the room that hung around like dark clouds. A rich sonorous voice cut through the silence, causing you to peek again to see who owned it. To your surprise, it was coming from the stranger seated on your chair, it was unbelievable that such an orotund voice could emanate from the willowy man.

“Well, well, Min Yoongi, you seem to not own a calendar.” The man tsked in lazy irritation. “You know I hate irregulars.”

You could feel your husband tense up, and his chest heaved with his sigh.

“ I need a few more days, Taehyung.”

The stranger addressed as Taehyung threw his head back in mock surprise, widening his eyes and cupping his cheeks.

“Oh! I would have never come if I knew I could count on your word.”

The mockery in his eyes instantly morphed into a dangerous glint, and he pushed the chair away violently as he stood up. He moved forward and bunched the collar of your husband’s shirt, leering at him with rage. His eyes moved over to your terrified ones, and he whistled.

“Look what a doll we have here.”

He thrust his arm behind Yoongi and yanked you out, clutching your forearm in a painful grip.

“No! Leave her alone!”

Yoongi was screaming, trying vainly to catch hold of you. The Taehyung guy was stronger than you thought. He never budged as you jumped and thrashed about, trying to get his hand off your arm, where you knew bruises were stirring. Yoongi charged forward with gritted teeth.

“This is only between you and me.”

Taehyung smirked. “I beg to differ.”

Two burly men clasped their arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, throwing all their weight on him to keep him locked in place. You turned to see your husband struggling against their hold, mouth snarling with his exertion. Long fingers circled the collar of your soft white nightshirt, bunching the material up and pulling you closer to their owner’s body. Taehyung’s tall frame dwarfed you, his long black bangs brushing his eyebrows as his fiery eyes stared at you. He leaned over, his nose nuzzling against yours.

“How is this just between me and him,” he breathed, eyes never leaving yours, “-when he has such a doll of a wife who clearly needs explaining?”

Your eyes quickly darted to Yoongi’s figure, when the man in black cupped your jaw and shifted your focus back to him.

“Whatever is your problem with him?” you spat at him through clenched teeth.

There was a deep hearty chuckle, which reverberated throughout his body. His eyes crinkled in amusement and he leaned back a little to survey your face.

“You don’t even know what your husband has been up to behind your back?”

You drew a sharp breath, which felt like cold ice slicing through your innards. What had Yoongi done?

“Y/N don’t look at me like that. He makes it sound so bad. It really isn’t,” Yoongi pleaded in a hoarse voice.

“Shut him up,” Taehyung ordered, and the command immediately earned Yoongi a box to the ears and a knife to his throat. Pulling the overturned chair back upright, Taehyung sat down in front of you. His slim legs were too long for the chair, which caused him to slide further in the seat with his legs jutting out, making him look like he was made up entirely of legs.

“Wanna sit on my lap while you listen, sugar?” he asked, patting his pants.

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. His casual tone was really riling you up.

“Just get on with it. And don’t call me ‘sugar’ ever.”

There was another deep chuckle. He leaned back and stretched lazily, causing two legs of the chair to hover mid-air.

“Alright, sugar. I would love to tell you all of it, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” He winked at you as he drawled, “ Pity I am not free tonight.”

Your eyes narrowed in impatience and he loved the way your face twisted in annoyance.

“Long story short, your husband owes me 50 million dollars.”

Your mouth fell open, disbelief coursing all over you. No, this had to be a mistake. Yoongi hadn’t ever mentioned being in debt. He hadn’t even been having trouble with his company. Or had he?

“You look surprised, honey.”

You were still frozen in place, not quite comprehending why Yoongi would have borrowed so much money. You looked at your husband, hoping that he would say that it was all a misunderstanding. But Yoongi had gone silent, his eyes were downcast.

“Yoongi?”

Nothing but a small nod to prove that Taehyung was indeed telling the truth.

“50 million dollars, Yoongi?” you asked, your voice incredulous. “What were you even thinking?”

“I hoped I could pay him back,“ Yoongi mumbled softly.

Taehyung crossed his legs, one hand ruffling his long unruly hair and the other gripping the chair. He gazed at you; he could almost hear the wheels turning in your head.

“Well, sugar? Which of you two is going to give me my money back?” He flicked his wrist and looked at his watch. “I want it now.”

“I … We don’t have that much money with us right now.“ Sweat blossomed on your forehead. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“Sorry I broke the news that your husband doesn’t trust you, love. But I don’t give a fuck about your trust issues. I need my money. Now.”

“Please, just give us some more time. We will pay you back somehow.”

“And how would I trust you, considering your man is already penniless? How would you pay me back?”

“We will … we will figure something out. Please, just trust me.”

He pursed his plump lips like a playful child, crinkling his eyebrows at you. Something about your doe-eyes softened him. He had almost skipped coming; the original plan had been to send only his men to your house. But now, watching your wide eyes pleading to him, he was glad he had decided to come himself. He remembered the loaded gun inside his coat pocket, which he had intended to use before he had set his eyes on you.

“Alright. Let’s see how trustable you are. You have three days.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“But I’ll take the bastard with me.”

The relieved smile was instantly wiped off your face.

“But…” you sputtered, hands flailing wildly. “I don’t have any idea how I…”

“He hid his debt from you. Now he has left you to clean up the mess all by yourself, huh sweetie?” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you really willing to do it for a man who didn’t even trust you, his wife?”

He could see your face flinch as his words cut through you. He decided Min Yoongi was a fool to have fallen headfirst in his trap, especially with you not knowing. But then, Yoongi would probably not have borrowed as much if you had known and stepped in to curb the snowballing of his debt. It would have foiled his trap. He smiled. He was happy that Yoongi had managed to get neck-deep in trouble.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi. I will come fetch you as soon as I can, honey.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up as he caught the moment’s hesitation before the word ‘honey’. He knew it was uttered for his benefit. The word was your shield, a magic circle you drew around yourself, thinking it would help ward off his flirtatious advances. Underlining you were Yoongi’s, a taken woman. You really thought you could hide behind it? His heart warmed. You were too adorable.

Swinging his feet off the chair, he rose and strode to Yoongi. He stared at the bloodshot eyes that glared back at him.

“Let’s go, loser.”

You helplessly watched your husband being dragged out by the collar.

"I love you, Y/N. I am sorry,“ Yoongi shouted across his shoulder, as he was manhandled roughly out of the door. All the men poured out of the apartment, leaving you standing alone. Your eyes welled up as you looked at the empty doorway.

"I love you too.”

*****

You had no idea where to start. There were only three days to get all the money ready. Frankly, you were clueless. Yoongi had never been intent on saving. Almost all his earnings went back into his business. Your job as an interior designer paid well, but nowhere near millions of dollars.

It was a stupid idea, to begin with. Borrowing 50 million dollars from a goon? What even had got into Yoongi? How were you expected to pay all of it back within 3 days? It was absolutely impossible. That Taehyung guy was evidently setting you up to fail.

Your brain felt like it had stopped working. Nothing you thought of seemed to make sense. ‘Okay okay, Y/N,’ you told yourself, ‘fucking get it together.’ Your head was pounding. Every minute reminded you that you were getting closer to the deadline. It only made you even more nervous.

Your stomach tightened in a knot. It felt like you were going to be sick. ‘No,’ you muttered, ‘think of something that’ll help.’ You closed your eyes as you massaged your throbbing temples. You could visualize the sands of time rapidly falling down your 3-day sand clock.

Back at his office, Taehyung couldn’t stop thinking about you. He had never been a man of romance; his only encounters had been with easy women looking for hookups in bars. As a unique exception, he found himself obsessing over a woman who was neither easy nor available. He twirled his pen in his hands as he thought about your beautiful doe eyes. He could swear he could still smell the faint berry scent of your hairspray.

As he looked out the window, lost in thought, your visuals came rushing to him. He remembered your high nose, your slender neck, and the sharp angle of your chin that could cut his heart to shreds. Your full figure that the thin nightshirt had done little to hide. The faint gloss on your lips that had allured him. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had ever noticed another woman this much. Was it because he hadn’t been laid in weeks? He didn’t think so. There was something about you that not only inspired lust but also made him fiercely protective. He had never felt that way with any other woman. He was a man who fucked once and then closed the door on the woman for good. But with you, he wanted to own your pretty eyes. He wanted to be the man your eyes searched for in a crowd. He wanted his hand to be the one you reached for. He wanted to worship you and protect you with his entire being. Your heart, your smile, your soft hair, your lithe frame, he wanted all of it.

He looked at the gardener watering the lawn. As he eyed the little droplets of water spraying from the hose, his mind wandered to the fantasy of seeing you wearing that thin nightshirt, drenched in water so he could see everything you had to offer. A heady sensation overtook him so hard that his eyes rolled back in his head. He shook his head and looked down at his pants. Just thinking about you had brought on a hard-on.

*****

If someone had told you two years ago that Yoongi would fall in debt and lose all his money, you would have laughed in their face. Yoongi was not a newbie to the business. He was the son of the richest businessman in the county. His family was old money, and they were wildly popular in elite circles. There was not a party that his mother wasn’t invited to. People stood in respectful silence if his father walked past them. As the only son and the heir of the Min family fortune, Yoongi had a lot of expectations to live up to.

He had been burdened with expectations ever since he had been born. While other children went out on hikes and summer camps, he had the best tutors in the nation mercilessly hounding him with business tactics. While his friends read Rowling and discussed magic, he was forced to read dry books on management and debate with his tutors. He had found early on in his life that there were two kinds of people around him. The ones who wanted to be friends with him to bask in his achievements, and the ones who genuinely liked him for who he was. Like the boy who came every day to play Chess with him. No wait, there was only him, no one else was on that list. He wasn’t sure which category his university friends fell into. No one felt genuine, at the same time, no one felt utterly fake. That was one of the reasons Yoongi had a hard time trusting anyone. All that was set to change one day, thanks to his mom.

Yoongi had never kissed a girl in his life. It was not something he was proud of. Not that he wasn’t interested though. He had a bevy of girls swarming around him all the time, trying their best to catch his eye. To them, he was a gold mine that assured them a luxurious future. He was also exceptionally handsome and that sealed the deal. But he found none of them were really interested in him as an individual. He had once found an attractive girl in a frat party and had thought his first kiss was going to be with her. She had seemed smart and funny too. Until she had flashed him a gorgeous set of pearly whites saying “… so I heard you’re going to inherit the whole of the Min family estate, huh?”

It was on a late evening that Yoongi stood in his porch, nursing a Baccarat wine glass and wondering if he would step into his 24th year on Earth never having kissed a woman. That was when a car skidded to a halt before him, and you stepped out. He watched you alight and smooth your pencil skirt, an unhurried look on your pretty face. You reached again into the car to fetch your sleek briefcase and looked at your watch. A smile graced your features. Yoongi was impressed. A punctual woman. You walked with the brisk tap-taps of your heels and sailed past him without a glance. As you crossed him, he could smell the lingering flowery notes of your perfume. His phone dinged in his pocket announcing it was time for yet another overseas call. As he turned back to reach his room, your perfume lingered in a corner of his mind long after the traces of the scent had vanished.

Yoongi’s mother was an elite socialite. Her name was uttered with reverence in the high circles. She had a web of powerful friends which she relied on for anything of importance. Like when she wanted to re-decorate her office in alignment with the latest trends. She had asked Mrs. Park for ideas, and the lady had provided her with your number. You had been struggling to land a project fresh out of your apprenticeship. Mrs. Park had tried you out for her daughter’s new apartment and had found your work commendable. She had readily advised Mrs. Min to hire you, whispering conspiratorially into her phone, “She doesn’t charge as much for her work, but I think she should. She really is a steal at her price.” And so, Mrs. Min had called you to her place.

And that was the start of your new project. Mrs. Min was not a person who traveled to offices that didn’t belong to conglomerates. So, it came about that you visited her once in two days, bringing your designs and seeking her inputs on them. You found her very friendly, she listened to your explanations patiently without trying to interrupt like a know-it-all. She hadn’t any airs, contrary to what you had expected when you had first met her.

Yoongi hadn’t seen you on your previous visits. Understandable, considering his jam-packed schedule. But one innocent question to his mother told him who you were, and on what days you were expected to visit. It started as a mild curiosity on his part. He simply thought you were interesting and wished to see more of you. Increasingly, his schedule adjusted to your visits, and he often walked in on you, dropping business news to his mother while sneaking a look at you. He lived in a condo, away from his parents. But he needed to meet his father and discuss business several times a week. And given his sudden interest in you, it was a pleasure for him to drop by at his parents’ home.

Things came to a head on a stormy Friday night. You had stayed far too long in Mrs. Min’s chamber, poring over the plans and jotting down her suggestions. She had caught you staring at the empty glass on her table and had excused you to fetch yourself a drink.

“Ask the maid to hand you wine, my dear,” she urged, “We have a splendid collection.”

So, you found yourself wandering to the cellar in pursuit of a drink. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to bother the maids, you were sure you could get a glass yourself. You reached the pitch-dark cellar and felt around for the light switch. When you switched it on, the lights lit up all the shelves in a wonderful ambiance. Rows and rows of bottles were stacked on the shelves, the light catching on their glossy bodies and illuminating them. Taking all of it in, you whistled under your breath as you saw bottles dating back decades.

“I’ll be damned.”

Picking an elegant Chateau Latour, you poured some of the crimson liquid into a crystal glass and set it on the marble counter. There was a stool that you pulled and sat on, kicking off your heels. You were not a woman who wore ridiculously high heels, but the heels that day had not been exactly comfortable. You bent down, massaging your slightly sore feet, when a shadow fell on you, darkening your vision and casting a long shadow on you. You raised your head and saw a man standing before you. He hadn’t seen you; he had come in to pick a bottle for himself. You quickly rose to your feet and the sudden movement caught his attention. With a swift turn, he swung around to face you.

Yoongi had never seen you up close. It felt like a dream to him. The dim light from the shelves fell on you, highlighting your cheekbones and lending a captivating air of mystery to your features. Your eyes glinted and sparkled, the light from the bottles making it seem like you had swallowed all the stars in the sky with your eyes. He cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair as he racked his brain for a suitable line to say.

“Mr. Min, a pleasure meeting you.” Stepping forward on your naked feet, you offered him your hand.

“Likewise,” he said, giving your hand a firm shake. He smiled at you, little gummy smile and all.

“A fine collection you have here,” you ventured, nodding at the shelves.

He nodded proudly, gesturing to another row of shelves at the far back.

“We have our finest wines here, dating back centuries.”

You smiled politely, suddenly remembering your haphazardly strewn heels and the bare state of your feet. He saw you shuffling awkwardly, and his eyes landed on your feet. His eyes widened. He had never seen such dainty little toes before. With a sheepish smile, you bent down and picked up the heels, slipping your feet into them and effectively disturbing his appreciative gaze on them.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” he muttered, reaching out to pick a bottle. When he turned and left, you found you had held your breath the entire time. Sighing, you finished your drink and proceeded to return to Mrs. Min’s office. A good two hours later, it was pouring with rain outside. As you filed all your papers and returned them to your briefcase, you worried about having to drive through the pounding rain. Mrs. Min seemed to read your uneasiness.

“Would you be able to ride in this downpour, dear?” She craned her head to watch the sheets of rain. “I think you’d better stay the night here.”

“Oh, that’s alright Mrs. Min, I’m sure I would be fine.”

“At least, let me send one of my people with you.” She paused and decided it wouldn’t do to send a maid or manservant with you at that hour of the night. The drivers had retired to their beds already. Wait-her son was still home.

“Let me find Min Yoongi and send him with you.”

Without waiting for an answer, she went off to her husband’s study where Yoongi usually stayed up till the wee hours of dawn, working on company matters. She was back in a couple of minutes, with Yoongi in tow.

“Allow my son to drive you,” Mrs. Min patted her son’s fine back. He nodded at you, not an over-enthusiastic nod but a crisp let’s-get-on-with-this nod. You started to feel he didn’t want to do anything with you, and it made you feel awkward.

The short ride to your apartment happened in two moods. You were nervous that Yoongi was miffed at having to drive you; Yoongi was nervous that you seemed cold and imagined you hated being alone with him. Neither of you guessed that the tension in the air between you had nothing to do with annoyance or hate.

As Yoongi nosed his car into the parking lot, you worked up the courage to say in a small voice, “Uh, would you like to come in and wait the storm out?”

Yoongi’s grip on his steering wheel tightened. He could feel his heart hammering away. The moisture in his palms started to make the steering wheel slippery. What was this? He was completely baffled. Did you want him to go in and sit with you? Or was this one of those cheeky invites to-, he shuddered, - to go in and kiss? Your intent gaze, as you waited for him to respond, was not helping his confusion in any way. Before he could think more, he found his voice saying “Sure.” He was surprised at how calm he had sounded because on the inside he was anything but.

Once inside, you made straight for the couch, nothing about your face suggested flirtation. He exhaled and calmed himself down, sitting across from you, watching you as you kicked your heels off happily. He looked around at your apartment, everything was neatly arranged, not a thing was out of place. His eyes were drawn to your biggest asset that occupied a large portion of your hall: your bookshelf.

“Virginia Woolf?” His eyebrows shot up as he scanned the shelf.

You said nothing, words refused to come out.

“Language is wine upon the lips.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, hearing those words from him, of all people. The word 'wine’ instantly took you back to that cellar, where he had stood before you, framed by that insanely beautiful light as if he were a revelation.

“Y/N?” His lips curled in a grin. “I never thought quoting Woolf was the best way to earn a woman’s reverence.”

Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you racked your brains for a witty reply.

“When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don’t seem to matter very much, do they?”

His grin widened, breaking out into a hearty chuckle. He nodded dramatically, eyes shining in amusement. You regarded him with an interested gaze.

"I never thought you’d have read Woolf.“

He rolled his head back lazily. “Ah, you’re the first and last person to know.”

“I’m honored.” You smiled at him as he scanned your shelf again.

“Charlotte Bronte.” He jerked his head at you with a raised eyebrow.

“She’s my favorite. I am crazy about Jane Eyre.”

He pursed his lips comically, pressing his index fingers together as if he were meditating.

“She wasn’t beautiful, Rochester was not handsome, they had a 20-year age gap,” he counted out on his fingers, mischief on his face.

“That’s the beauty, isn’t it? Heroes and heroines are usually described as beautiful and handsome respectively, but this time the book focused on love, just between two normal people.” You paused and looked ahead, stars in your eyes. “Helen was my favorite character; she was wise beyond her age. I feel so strongly drawn to such peaceful tranquility.“

He closed his eyes and decided that you were the smartest woman he had ever come across, second only to his mother. As both of you discussed more about literary characters, he found himself wishing that the storm would never abate. He wanted more of your presence, he wanted to hear your voice talk about things he had secretly loved all his life.

The time came for him to leave, and he grumblingly got up to bid good-bye.

” I’ll ask one of the drivers to fetch you your car in the morning,“ he said, slipping into his coat. “And allow me to say that this was the best night of my life.”

Blood rose to your cheeks, making you feel feverish. “That makes two of us,” you said, heart brimming with happiness on seeing him smile.

Long after he had left, you found yourself staring at the doorway. With a sigh, you closed the door, knowing that you loved every moment he had spent with you, but there was no doubt you would have loved it, even more, had things gone a little bit differently.

*****

Ever since that fateful night, Yoongi found himself making pleasant small talk with you whenever you visited Mrs. Min. And each time, he found himself wondering if he was more than just interested in you. He could feel the way his pulse quickened on seeing you, the way all the hair on his arms stood up when you brushed him accidentally. He started noticing your little habits. He loved the small twist of hair that fluttered while you walked, the little tear-shaped earrings you wore, the small jingle of your metal bracelet when it hit the table as you worked. He was amused at the way you wrote the number 5, starting at the bottom and ending at the top. The lone dimple on your left cheek that flashed only when you grinned in genuine pleasure always left his knees weak.

Yoongi had no experience with women, and he found it maddening that he didn’t know how to properly flirt. So, he turned to his chess-mate for help. The guy was quite helpful, but Yoongi was doubtful if his suggestions were a bit too cheesy. He began to panic, unsure if you preferred the corny lines his friend fed him, or the poetic ones aplenty in the old literary gold you were clearly fond of.

So, it was a very confused Yoongi that was sitting with you a few days later on the stone bench in his mother’s lawn. His mother had gone out on an urgent errand. You had already parked your car on the porch when the news of her being away reached you. It turned out you were at a free end that evening, which Yoongi decided to benefit from. The stone bench felt warm from all the sun’s rays that had fallen on it throughout the day. You had been talking about your work day, and he had been listening happily.

Suddenly, without even knowing it happened, he dipped his head down, capturing your soft lips in a hesitant kiss. It was pleasant for a moment until he realized he was supposed to deepen it. He started panicking. He knew tongues would be involved, but how on Earth was he going to achieve that feat? Sweat started running down his neck, and his breathing became labored. You noticed his discomfort and leaned back, opening your mouth to form “What…” He saw your mouth open and took the chance to dive in again, relaxing thankfully when there was no opposition from your side. When both of you finally broke the kiss, he was so embarrassed that he couldn’t bring himself to look at your eyes.

He was certain you had hated it. He knew he had been sloppy, and he vowed to blame his kissing abilities if you never wanted to see him again. While he was internally kicking himself, you put your little hand in his large ones, with a mild “Are you alright, Yoongi?” When he didn’t answer, you added wickedly, “That was a hell of a kiss.”

His head shot up, indignant at first, the annoyance quickly morphing into merriment as he took in your coy wink.

“Trust me they’ll get better.”

When there was no reply, his confidence plummeted again. He started to stammer “I didn’t imply-” before he was silenced with another searing kiss.

*****

It was the night of your sixth date when both of you were cuddled up in one blanket, feet dangling from the roof of his balcony. Yoongi was content with you at his side, your sweet-smelling hair cascading down your shoulders and brushing against him. He wanted to say something and seal the moment. But what should he say? Taking your index finger in his hands, he started tracing the delicate bones as he worked up his nerves.

Closing his eyes, he blurted out, “Design our home.”

You looked at him, startled. “Do you want me to be your designer?”

He shook his head, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “No. I am asking you to own my home and make it beautiful by being in it.”

He was screaming at himself for not phrasing the words better. He made a mental note to go kick his chess mate’s balls off for suggesting the damned line. There was a heavy silence, so heavy that it suffocated him. He slowly opened his eyes. Just as he decided he had lost you forever, a tinkling giggle reached his ears, leaving him dumbstruck. The giggle amplified into more giggles, finally breaking out into peals of joyful laughter. As the laughter subsided, you wiped your streaming eyes and replied: “Only if you promise to remain this cute.”

*****

The next day, Yoongi took you to his parents and announced the engagement. He had proposed again properly, with a beautiful ring, but you had told him you really preferred the first version of his proposal. Mrs. Min took the news very well, she smiled as she hugged you and pecked you on the cheek. “I knew it was just a matter of time before he fell for you,” she whispered with a twinkle in her eyes.

After four glorious months of being engaged, you had a beautiful white wedding that Mrs.Min organized with aplomb. You had no parents, so your best friend Hoseok happily agreed to give you away. Your friends did everything they could to soothe the pain of your parents not being there to see your happiness. There were festoons engraved with Yoongi’s and your initials, adorning every nook and corner, declaring your love to the world.

As you walked down the aisle with a proud Hoseok beaming all over his face, Yoongi felt like he could choke with happiness. You grinned at him as you reached his side, tilting your head to allow Hoseok to peck your cheeks. Hoseok then shook hands with Yoongi, winking at him and slapping his back. And then the magic moment arrived.

All the words that the minister said felt like cotton candy. It all just blew away, and only the sweetest words remained- “I do.” You had tears in your eyes as you accepted Yoongi as your lawfully wedded husband. Yoongi’s mother passed down her own mother’s wedding ring, a beautiful solitaire diamond ring that glittered and shone. Yoongi smiled through tears, whispering “In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you,” as he slipped it on your finger, claiming you as his own. The wedding kiss had tears from Yoongi’s cheeks and yours falling onto the lips, strangely tasting sweeter than the choicest nectar.

As he walked out of the church, he was filled with a deep pride. You loved him. You were his. You were Mrs.Min.

*****

The Min family welcomed you as one of their own with open arms. As a wedding gift, Yoongi’s parents gifted you a charming house, a skeleton of a house really. It was yours to design and furnish, yours to apply all your designing skills and turn it into your home. Your days passed happily, enjoying the lavish affection your husband showered on you, and doing what you loved when he went away for the day.

Your clientele grew, as you were now part of the elite club. There were commissions from Mrs. Min’s friends to help alter and redecorate their offices and homes. Yoongi worked all day, managing his father’s businesses and clients. But when he came home, all his stress evaporated away, leaving only fierce embers of love. He was doting, sweet, animalistic, feral, subtle, blunt, all thrown into one perfect balance, leaving you gasping and deliciously wanting for more.

Just as life seemed that it was all sunshine and happiness, tragedy struck. Your father-in-law was involved in a bad car accident, which left him severely injured. The days were filled with frantic phone calls from investors, grim faces of doctors, alcohol-sprayed hospital rooms, and the slowly fraying nerves of your husband. Your mother-in-law never lost her composure, she went about her duties robotically. She tended to her husband, watching as his body struggled to recuperate. She witnessed his body slowly shutting down one part at a time. She read to him, prayed at his side, slept at the bedside, never leaving him. But on the day she saw him breathing his last, your mother-in-law broke.

Min Sung-Hee had been a proud woman, who had defied societal conventions and broken ties to marry the man she loved. His demise was a severe blow to her, she had never thought her husband was even capable of dying. She had clung on to the gossamer hope that he would recover, and when he failed to do so, the thread snapped. She was left unhinged.

You brought her to live with you, but nothing was helping her steer towards sanity. Each night, you were kept awake with the heart-breaking howls and sobs that reverberated through the walls. Her eyes lost their luster, tired wrinkles covered her face the way moss silently creeps on rocks and obscures them. On a particularly desolate night, you found her holding a knife, face impassive. When you tried to call her name, she paid no heed. Suddenly, with a blood-curling yowl, she hurled herself at the mirror, shattering it and sending shards flying all over the place. You screamed for Yoongi as she kept banging her head on the broken mirror. Your screams disturbed her and she flew at you, knife aimed straight at your throat.

There was a rush of footsteps behind you, and a strong hand pushed you to the side. Yoongi wrestled his fragile mother as softly as he could, prying the knife away from her and locking her in a tight hold. You were trembling when you ran down to fetch a glass of water, the eyes that had looked at you had been devoid of any recognition.

It was very painful but Yoongi knew he had no choice but to send his mother to an institution. He didn’t want you to be afraid in your own home. He was scared for you, and for his mother’s safety too. He wanted her to get the best care, and an institution seemed to be the best way to go. He reasoned with you, telling you it had to be done. It was not an easy decision, but when Yoongi saw his mother’s cold manic eyes looking back at him on the way to the institution, he knew he was doing the right thing to protect his family.

*****

Yoongi inherited his father’s businesses and everything his parents owned. Financially, you were richer, but emotionally you felt poorer. You had grown to consider Yoongi’s parents your own, and their absence scarred you deeply. The playful Yoongi was gone, replaced by a serious man who had to suddenly take charge of his father’s legacy and shoulder responsibilities that were thrust upon him.

Gone were the days when he would rush home from work to lift you as if you were his precious child. As the days passed, he became more and more trapped at his office. You longed for those magical days when there were four of you at the table, when Yoongi’s eyes had been filled with mischief and fun. It was hard to focus on your designs, but you trudged through them zealously. Yoongi still loved you, and you just had to wait for him to get a hold of his business responsibilities.

Indeed, there was a brief period when Yoongi returned early, brought you flowers, and even took you out on dinner dates. That was after he had hired Wo Bin, his new manager. For months, Yoongi was all praise for his manager. He left Wo Bin in-charge whenever he had other pressing matters to attend to. He grew to trust the man, even letting him handle a few acquisitions all by himself. He once brought Wo Bin home, and you were amused at the shy, bespectacled man who your husband had often spoken so highly of.

But it was just a matter of months before the relaxed Yoongi disappeared again, and an even more stressed husband returned to you each night. You tried asking him gently, but he remained silent, not even trying to explain. You assumed it was a deal gone bad, which your husband would surely recover from. But weeks rolled by, and Yoongi’s moodiness showed no signs of abating. If anything, he had only grown even more remote, stubbornly refusing to answer your questions, and skipping meals several days a week. You prayed and begged, but he simply shut his mouth tight, refusing to respond. That was when panic set in, gnawing at your chest. Was he guilty of something? Had he cheated on you?

Many such tumultuous thoughts had been flittering in your mind as you had grilled pork ribs on that fateful day, trying to cheer your husband up. That had been the day your world turned upside down: Taehyung had stepped into your house, tearing your husband away from you, giving you just three days to pay him fifty million dollars.

*****

“What?!”

Your scream echoed through the small glass-paneled office. Seated across you, nervously twiddling his thumbs, was Bong Ju, Yoongi’s legal advisor.

“Yes, Mrs.Min. The Min corporation has indeed filed for bankruptcy.”

You felt as if all your blood had evaporated and clouded around your face in a red haze. This was the worst thing to ever happen. Your husband was not around, the company was dying, your only relative was in an institution, and you had to cough up 50 million dollars within 68 hours. Three hours had already been wasted in Bong Ju’s explanation of the debts, there was no more time to lose.

“How the heck did the company fall so deep in debt? Last quarter’s reports were so good!”

Bong Ju shook his head vigorously. “Yes, there is nothing wrong with our company.” He paused and scratched his head. “ In fact, we would have still been an incredibly profitable company, if it weren’t for Wo Bin.”

“Wo Bin? The executive manager? What did he do?” Your knuckles were white from gripping the handles of the chair too hard.

“He struck deals with ridiculously high prices, there were so many useless acquisitions for millions of dollars. He also embezzled millions of dollars in company funds. He absconded with all the money.”

“You couldn’t trace that bastard?”

“No, Mrs.Min. He well and truly vanished. All the investors found out and they threatened to sue the company. Mr. Min had no option but to settle and avoid a legal battle. He had to file for bankruptcy, that was the only way he could pay them off.”

“And how did Taehyung come into all this?”

“He loaned Mr. Min most of the money to reach a settlement with the investors. Kim Taehyung charges exorbitant interests, but Mr. Min went ahead and borrowed huge amounts of money. He never expected to be dragged this deep into the mire.”

You buried your head in your hands. There was a serious urge to tear at your hair, which you controlled with the last of your patience. How on Earth were you expected to save the company? There was no way in Hell you could raise all the money and still salvage the company.

The man stayed mute for a few minutes, scared of setting you off again. He saw you chewing on your lip, horror written all over your face. Timidly, he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

“You could… ”

“I could what?”

“Er… Mrs.Min, you could uh… try mortgaging the Min estate?”

He wiped the sweat on his forehead as he watched your face in apprehension. He was almost ready to jump out of the window than sit in that stifling atmosphere with the wife of his employer shooting daggers at him.

“Do you think that will cover it? It’s 50 MILLION dollars!” you yelled.

“Maybe, you have other assets? Like your home? I am sure you could mortgage your home too.”

You slid down a bit on your chair, massaging your temples. Your home? This man was asking you to mortgage your home? But it was your dream home! You had designed every tile on that building with love. You fanned your hot cheeks. This was about Yoongi, not the house. You could always design a new house. Swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth, you nodded. You remembered something else too.

“I have two million dollars in my savings deposit.”

You bit your lips and controlled the tears that were threatening to fall. You had put aside some of the money you earned in a deposit. It was meant to be used when you had babies. Every month, you had giggled happily while transferring money to the deposit. It had been your secret; you had never dreamt that you would be required to withdraw all of it for a reason other than your babies. It was all you had saved, just for your future children. You sniffed, deciding it had to be done to save Yoongi.

“ Withdraw the money, and start the work to mortgage our home and the Min estate.”

The man obligingly stood up, nodding.

“I will start on the course of action, Mrs.Min.”

You watched as he bowed to you, turning to leave. A thought struck you out of the blue.

“Just a minute, Bong Ju.” The tone made him turn abruptly. “Why did you not suggest mortgaging the property before, to my husband?“

There was a heavy silence. He took out his handkerchief, wiping his bald head as he licked his lips.

"Well, you see Mrs.Min,” the man advanced to you in slow steps, “Mr. Min didn’t want you to know about the financial crisis. He had hoped to resolve it before it snowballed into a full-blown nightmare.” He saw the uncertainty on your face. “You… uh, you would have come to know if he ever mortgaged the estate or the house, your signature would have been necessary.”

You deflated, wishing your husband had just believed in you and told you about his monetary struggles. Taehyung’s words repeated in your head. Had Yoongi really not trusted you enough? You shook your head. No, that couldn’t be the reason. You couldn’t lose your head over this; time was running out.

“Well, there’s one more thing, Bong Ju.” You looked at your hand, a deep sorrow weighing your heart down. With tears blurring your eyes, you slid your wedding ring off. The diamond glinted at you, looking even more radiant through your tears. You extended the ring to the man.

“Mortgage this too, it is a family treasure.”

The man looked uncomfortable. He eyed the ring on his palm warily. “Are you sure, Mrs. Min? I think-”

“Just go.”

He left without a word, leaving you alone, swirling in the emotions that were choking your lungs.

*****

You were pacing around your study, wondering what was happening to Yoongi. There had been a phone call exactly at midnight. A low raspy voice had said, “You have two days,” before cutting off abruptly. The call had left you wide-eyed and worried.

Now, as you paced impatiently, you wished you could turn to someone for help. Your mother-in-law was sure to have stowed away some money in security deposits. But how could you ask her? She barely recognized you, she would surely have no recollection of her deposits, whatsoever. On an impulse, you dialed the number of the institution in which she was housed.

You listened to the dial-back tone, nervously biting your nails. God, you smelt like a tramp. You hadn’t showered, hadn’t eaten a morsel, or even had a sip of water. The line crackled and a high-pitched voice answered.

“Klammer Institute.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Hi, I am Min Sung-Hee’s family. How is she?”

“Oh, Good morning Mrs.Min. I am afraid she has been catatonic; Dr. Stevens upped her dosage last night to see if she responds.”

“Oh.” Your heart fell. But this was to be expected. “Is it possible for me to speak to her?”

“Let me see if she will talk, hold on.”

You waited; the answer already clear as day. It was the most foolish thing ever to expect any good outcome from this. Were you losing your mind too? It wasn’t like you to cling on to fruitless threads like this. You heard the woman speak to your mother-in-law, announcing your arrival. There was a rustle, and then silence.

“Hello?” you ventured after a few seconds of the deafening silence.

“Hm?” the voice sounded painfully feeble.

“Hey, Ma. I am Y/N. How are you?” You held your breath.

“Y/N? I don’t know any Y/N.”

“I am your daughter-in-law,” you began to explain patiently before she cut you off.

“Where is Min? Give the phone to him.”

She was asking for her husband, the poor darling. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had died. You were an idiot. What had you expected? A miracle?

“He… He isn’t around right now, Ma.”

“Tell him I am so lonely. Why did he leave me here? I feel so…” There was a pause. “Who are you again?”

“Never you mind, Ma. Please rest. Let me speak to the orderly.”

After inquiring more about your mother-in-law’s health, you cut the call with a sigh. There was no possible way you could ask your only relative for help. You felt even worse than when you had placed the call.

*****

There were only 12 hours left for the deadline to end. You had not showered in three days. There were tired dark circles around your eyes. You hadn’t slept in more than 30 hours, and it was making your eyes sting to look at any light. The same white nightshirt you had been wearing when Yoongi was dragged out by goons clung to your famished body. You had moved out of your house and had taken up a room in a mediocre hotel. Luxury hotels charged so much it made your ears burn.

There was an urgent knock on the door, and you sprinted to open it. Bong Ju was standing outside, a big black suitcase weighing his arm down. You practically ripped his arm off, pulling him into the room and banging the door shut.

“Well?”

You could hear your pulse throbbing in your ears. He nodded swiftly, rushing to the bed and heaving the suitcase on it. He threw it open, wiping his eyebrows in the crook of his elbow. There were stacks of crisp banknotes, arranged neatly and secured with elastic.

“There’s 50 million dollars in here, Mrs.Min.”

You looked at him with a faint sense of foreboding. “Did everything… did it all just fetch- only 50 million dollars?”

You had mortgaged your entire life. And it had all amounted to just covering your ass?

“I naturally had to avoid much negotiation, you see. Time is of the essence here and we couldn’t possibly waste it in bargaining.”

You nodded. Everything felt like water slipping through your fingers.

“And the ring?” you managed to whisper.

“It fetched 75 thousand dollars, Mrs. Min. And solely because it was an heirloom.” He lowered his voice and added, “The appraiser was an old friend of mine.”

You huffed in impatience. Who cared if he had pulled strings to get you the money? It was his job. Also, he was partly responsible for the mess your company was in. What kind of legal advisor couldn’t advise the CEO not to trust a stranger too much? You narrowed your eyes at him. It sickened you to see his greasy smile. Did he expect you to appreciate him or something? Dick.

“There’s only 11 hours and thirty minutes left.” You leaped to the bed and clamped the suitcase shut. Lugging it behind, you bolted through the door. You heard the man mutter something behind you. No time to listen. If you had turned and lent an ear, you would have heard him hiss at you:

“Mrs.Min, you are in your pajamas!”

*****

You hailed a cab, not caring in the least about the stares from all around you. A cab screeched to a halt in front of you.

“Where to, miss?” He took in your disheveled appearance. “What the hell, lady? Problems with the family?”

You jumped in and slammed the door shut. Your knuckles were aching from your hold on the suitcase. It contained your whole life.

“I need to go to the South Boulevard.”

He turned from his seat, eyeing you warily.

“That’s not a very safe neighborhood,” he shrugged, “not a place for a young woman like yourself.”

“That’s alright. I need to go there.”

“Where exactly, if I may ask?”

“Uh, Kim Taehyung’s mansion. Do you know it?”

“Oh, him.” There was a long pause. “I know that place.”

There was no more conversation after that, and you rode in silence. You chewed your nails, wondering if you should have actually counted the money for yourself. What if that sleazy Bong Ju had tried to steal some for himself? Wiping your eyebrows, you looked out the windows. Now you had no way of knowing if you really had 50 million dollars in your suitcase. It would not be safe to count the money inside the cab. You looked at the driver’s face in the rearview mirror. Suddenly you were filled with distrust that spanned to every living thing around you.

The cab ground to a halt in front of a sprawling mansion. You stumbled around with trembling fingers for change to cover the fare. As he reached his palm out to take it, the man suddenly stilled. He opened the door and stepped out, much to your alarm. He removed his coat and extended it to you.

“Take this.” He raised an eyebrow in the general direction of the mansion. “Can’t go in there in just your pajamas, lady.”

The suspicion rolled off your body and evaporated into thin air. You wrapped yourself in his coat and stammered your thanks. You stood watching the cab pull away, and shook yourself as it disappeared out of sight. 'Okay, Y/N. Time to go into the monster’s den.’

Dragging the suitcase, you charged through the gates, not paying attention to all the armed men walking around. They paused and stared, but didn’t stop you. You wouldn’t lie, all your nerves were tightly wound, almost to snapping point. You walked with your calf muscles burning, storming through the lawns and making a beeline to the enormous oak door. On reaching the door, a man with a rifle thrust his weapon at you, blocking your way.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetmeat?”

Disgust rolled up your throat and you gritted your teeth. The man’s sweaty odor was enough to make you want to puke.

“Let me through. I need to go in to pay up my debt.”

He ran his eyes all over you, making you squirm in your nightclothes. With a sickening smirk, he lifted his rifle and allowed you to pass, calling behind you, “Boss is on the second floor. Also, nice ass.”

*****

Puffing and heaving, you reached the second floor. There were a lot of guards outside the first door, and you decided that was where Taehyung probably was. Not paying heed to the guards, you pushed the door open. Sure enough, there was the devil, his legs propped on his table, his eyes scanning a file. A gun was strewn on the table carelessly.

Taehyung looked up and saw you standing framed by the doorway. He couldn’t believe you were there, wearing the exact nightshirt that had haunted him in his dreams. He could see the damp spot on your chest, where your sweat had moistened the cloth and turned it deliciously translucent. Your hair was damp with sweat, all those little wisps of hair had stuck to your forehead like a wreath. The way your chest heaved with each breath sent a sharp ache down his groin. He looked at the suitcase in your hand, and his lips stretched in a sly smile.

“Brought my money back, huh, sugar?”

He manspread his legs on the desk, his crotch as clear as day. He was enjoying the way your eyes grew wide. The bob of your throat as you swallowed nervously sent his mind spinning with images of making you gag around him. He picked his gun and spun it as he regarded you with an arrogant smirk.

You glared at him and threw the suitcase on the table, opening it wide to show him the stacks of money.

“Take this and let Yoongi go.”

He threw his head back with a sigh. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. Crossing his heels on the table, he lazily toyed with his gun.

“Oh, baby doll, I wish I could.”

You tensed, electric jolts going haywire in your brain.

“What? What the fuck do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can let him go, baby girl.”

“Fucking take the money and give me my husband, KIM TAEHYUNG!”

He swung his legs off the table, watching you as he swiveled sideways on his chair. Two guards rushed in on hearing your screams. Taehyung blew on the muzzle of his gun with disinterest.

“And what if I won’t?”

You threw your hands up in despair.

“What the fuck more do you want?”

He got up and ambled around the mahogany desk. He precariously sat on the table with one leg on the floor, supporting his weight. He still had the gun in his hand, rubbing it in slow strokes on the side of his pants.

“Ah,” he said, looking beyond you at the guards in the doorway. “There’s no problem here, Wo Bin-ah. You can wait outside.”

In a flash, you spun on your heel to look at Wo Bin, standing there with a rifle. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and he towered over you, his chest puffed up.

“What? Wo Bin? You? You! You!” You lunged at him, arms outstretched in rage. He jabbed your chin with the butt of his rifle, sending shooting pain throughout your skull. Head swimming, you saw his blurred outline walk out of the room.

As you clutched your jaw, there was a deep chuckle behind you.

“Confused, honey?”

You turned and glared at Taehyung.

“What is that.. what is that scum doing here?”

“He works for me.”

“What?!”

“Hmm.” He hummed softly, rubbing his temple with the gun. He took a step towards you. “He’s been with me for years.”

“How- what was he- Where is Yoongi?” There was a sudden panic coursing through your veins. You needed to fetch Yoongi and get out of here.

“You’ll get him if you give me what I want.” He was now talking slow steps towards you.

“I already brought you the money, dickwad assbutt.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head.

“I want you.”

You froze, jaw hanging open.

He drawled lazily. “Min Yoongi is a penniless loser. He has nothing left in the world.” He came nearer. “But you just made me 50 million dollars richer. I have everything. I am so much better than him, sugar”

His eyes blazed at you. “Be mine.”

He reached out and tugged at your coat, brushing his fingers against the fabric. When you didn’t move, he circled you and stood behind you. Ghosting his arm around your waist, he spooned you from behind. He bent slightly to take a whiff of your hair. Mmm. Berries. The movement thrust his entire body snug against you.

His hands were reaching your chest, almost groping you. Suddenly, you were aware of a hard bulge pressing against you.

“NO,” you shouted shrilly at the top of your lungs, wriggling vigorously to get out of his grip. His arm tightened around your midsection and you scratched and clawed at his flesh until he hissed and released you. You pushed off his chest, screaming. His fingers clawed at the air and found your coat, holding you back as you tried to run. He held on to your coat in a vice-like grip, not allowing you to advance. With a wild shrug, you got out of the coat, catapulting to the door in the momentum. Without looking back, you ran out as if your head were on fire.

Taehyung spat out on seeing the angry red nail marks on his arms. He shouted to his men, commanding them to run after you. He would not let you get away. He ran out like a madman, slamming himself against the balcony when he saw your figure darting across the lawns. The men were chasing you, but you were running like the wind. He gritted his teeth, seeing you jump across the hedges like a hare.

He roared to a guy, shouting at him to get his car. He was going to get you, no matter what.

*****

You ran faster than you had ever run in your life. The adrenaline pushed your limits, sending you blazing through the boulevard. You cut across lanes, doing your best to not go down the obvious route. It had been almost half an hour on the run before your lungs gave out. You squinted your eyes, making out the towers of a suspension bridge that stretched over the sea, and you knew where to go.

You were thoroughly spent when you wheezed and stumbled to the bridge. The cars were whirring past, oblivious to the skimpily clad figure trudging along the bridge. It was illegal to walk on the bridge’s deck, you knew, but you didn’t care. It would be lucky for you to get into prison, at least you would be safe there. Reaching the hard left of the bridge, you gripped the railing and peered down.

The sea was lapping at the visible parts of the bridge’s foundations. The water looked frightening, stretching out in such a vast expanse that made you feel insignificant. You looked around. Cars were still moving back and forth, no one seemed to have seen you loitering on the bridge. There was no time to lose.

Throwing your leg over the railing, you hoisted yourself on the suspender cables that had the lowest elevation. You kicked your feet off the railing, resolving to not look down at the deep, deep sea splashing around down beneath. A sick panic climbed up from the pit of your stomach as you dangled from the railing, with nothing to support you but your hands. It was so hard to hold on to the metal, the afternoon sun had heated it to scalding point. Pain shot up your shoulder joints, causing you to wince in agony. The three-day starvation was quickly catching up, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

There was immediate death beckoning to you from below. The drop itself would kill you. A vague newspaper fragment floated to your mind’s eye. There had been a passage once on the newspaper about this bridge, and you knew this one was 75 feet high. Sweat rolled down your forehead, forming fat beads on your eyelashes. No, you could not let go, you would plummet to your death. The drops of sweat flowed into your eyes, stinging them and causing you to curse out loud. You had to get a move on before your arms gave out.

A few feet away, there was a small platform jutting out from under the deck of the bridge. Blinking away the salty drops blurring your vision, you swung your arm out to catch the next rail. Oh God, was it difficult. Fuck those action heroes who did it above safety nets and made it look easy as pie. You were sure your arms would tear off from all the strain. Muttering a fluent string of curse words, you heaved your body from rail to rail, never looking down.

It felt like ages before you reached the damned platform. It was made of metal, and you squealed in pain as it scorched your bottom. The thin pajamas were not helping either. Biting down on your tongue, you rolled on your bottom, wishing the heat dissipated quickly. The platform was very small, it was probably never intended to provide sanctuary for a human. The strip of metal was long, and you decided to align yourself along the length of it. There was no support on the sides, you could easily roll over and fall into the crashing waves.

You lay still, holding on to the edge of the platform for dear life. The sun was beating down on your face mercilessly. You were sure you’d be sunburnt beyond recognition if you stayed here long enough. A little farther, there were a couple of ships moving slowly against the horizon. You were watching them when you heard cars whiz past the deck, causing the platform to vibrate hard. Closing your eyes, you wondered if any of those cars carried Taehyung or his gang of goons.

*****

Taehyung couldn’t believe he had let you slip that easily. He had moved every piece in the game so carefully. How could he have lost you after so much effort? His men were combing the streets for you, dozens of his cars were patrolling the land. No one had gotten any whiff of you so far. But they would. He knew it was just a matter of hours before you would be back in his arms, nightshirt and all.

As he rode in stony anger, seated in the back of his car, he remembered the first time he had seen you.

Taehyung’s family was not old money, they had no old family ties with the rest of the elite. His father had been a part of the mafia, and the family thrived prosperously. But it still wasn’t enough to grant Taehyung the privileges Yoongi’s family enjoyed. He was invited to a lot of social gatherings, yes, but somehow he was always on a lower rung on the social ladder.

There were many events that Taehyung was excluded from. He and Yoongi never mingled. The tension in the room whenever he was in an elite gathering always made Taehyung queasy. He felt like everyone looked down on him, even if he had as much money as the rest of them. Their stares and whispers served to infuriate him, making him feel deeply resentful towards affluent families like the Min clan.

It was one such night when Taehyung had stormed out of a party hosted by one of Mrs.Min friends. He had felt passively insulted, and he had gone in an attempt to prevent screaming his head off. It had begun to drizzle, and just as he decided to turn back, he saw you.

You were walking towards the crosswalk, a book in hand. You were probably returning from a library. There was a serene vibe about you, and it drew him in completely. He watched as you waited for the light to turn green, turning your head up to feel the rain patter against your forehead. The little curve of your lips as the drops streamed down your face made his heart beat faster. Suddenly you seemed to remember about the book, and hugged it to yourself, covering it with your jacket. He stood rooted to the spot, unmindful of the rain that had begun to wet his clothes. He followed you till you reached your home, and smiled to himself after you closed the door behind you. He was going to get to know you.

It was incredibly easy to follow you around, thanks to your cute obliviousness. He soon found out all your favorite books, restaurants, coffeehouses and pubs. He never got tired of tagging behind you. It was a pleasant feeling to follow you when you flitted like a butterfly before him. Until you drove into the Min house one evening.

Taehyung parked a few blocks outside the gates, watching you each day as you drove in and out that wretched house. He was mad at you for consorting with that family. Every time, he calmed his rage by telling himself that you were just there on business. He would tell you to cut off all business ties with that snobbish family after he started dating you.

It was on a particularly windy night that he waited outside the gates, muttering impatiently under his breath. A storm was brewing, and he chided you in his mind for staying in too long. What would you do if it rained hard? The roads would be slippery, not to mention the low visibility that would threaten your safety. He was too caught up in his worry that he almost missed the sleek black car that sailed out of the gates. Just as he was about to dismiss it thinking it wasn’t your car anyway, he caught a glimpse of the riders. You. In Min Yoongi’s car.

Gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make his fingers numb, he turned on the ignition and tailed Yoongi’s car stealthily. He felt like his nerves could pop from all the rage. That was his woman in that bastard Yoongi’s car! A part of him wanted to see reason. It was raining hard, and you needed to get home. Maybe the Yoongi fellow would drop you at your house and get lost soon.

But all the amiable feelings drained out of his system when he saw Yoongi getting out and following you into the house. Hot angry tears pricked his eyes when you closed the door and locked it behind you. He ground his teeth, looking at his watch every five minutes, hoping to see Yoongi get out. Tough luck, there was no sign of Yoongi leaving in a hurry. He was shaking with anger for a good two hours before the door opened again. That was when he knew he had to destroy Min Yoongi.

Just like he had feared, you fell for that rich snob. He watched you go on dinners with Yoongi, and he knew time was running out. It was a rude shock to him when he found out you were engaged to Yoongi. So soon? God, that slimy wretch Min was moving so fast to secure you. Taehyung had no choice but to witness you grow closer and closer to Yoongi. And before he knew it, you were married. It was the first time in years he drunk himself to oblivion and passed out on the floor of his bar.

*****

Taehyung had been miserable for months after your wedding. He had been invited to the wedding of course, and he had watched another man put a ring on you and claim you as his own. There was a deep void in his heart, so deep that he couldn’t spend one waking moment without thinking of you. He wanted you, he was not going to let the wedding deter him. You had flown out of his reach, but he resolved to get you back. He was going to ruin Min Yoongi. The game had just started.

It was a stroke of luck for Taehyung when Yoongi’s father died and left his son to take care of all the businesses. Taehyung was a smart man, and he pounced on the opportunity to dig Yoongi’s trench. He plotted carefully, weighing his options. Finally, he decided to infiltrate the enemy lines and place a Trojan horse in the Min camp. That was how Wo Bin got to work in the enemy’s company.

Taehyung was proud of Wo Bin. The man was excellent at his job. He meticulously followed Taehyung’s instructions and went on to win Yoongi’s confidence. When Wo Bin completed two successful acquisitions for the Min Corporation, Taehyung knew that the time was ripe.

Slowly and steadily, Wo Bin drained the coffers, striking extravagant deals and sabotaging the company from the inside out. He convinced Yoongi that the deals were futuristic, and no harm was going to befall the company due to them. He could sense that Yoongi was uneasy, but he came up with ridiculously complex theories and shut him up for good. One weekend, when Yoongi was away at Melbourne for a deal, Wo Bin moved in for the kill.

Taehyung made sure that he was the first person who called to console Yoongi when he returned from Melbourne and found himself neck-deep in debt. Taehyung started moving with the utmost caution to secure his traps. He struck up a cordial relationship with Yoongi, calling on him and arranging friendly meetings to 'cheer him up’. That was how Yoongi wound up in a bar with Taehyung, drinking away his sorrows and slurring his words as he told Taehyung of how badly he had been cheated by his manager.

It was not until he made Yoongi sufficiently drunk that Taehyung turned on his smooth charm. He buttered up to the man, gushing on how he wished to help. He was fishing for a reaction and Yoongi promptly gave him one.

“Really? You- you will lend me money to settle off my investors?”

Taehyung smiled smoothly, turning his glass in his hand. God, the man was so gullible.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“I can’t believe this. 5 million dollars? Are you sure?”

“Hey, it’s just a few millions. The important thing is that I’m getting to help you out.” He struggled to keep the victorious smirk off his face as Yoongi fell for it hard. This was going perfectly according to plan.

So Yoongi borrowed the first 5 million from Taehyung. But to his surprise, it was becoming increasingly difficult to settle all his investors. The prices kept climbing up, and within no time he found himself borrowing 5 million more. And then the 5 million turned into 10 million and he felt like it was just in a blink of an eye that his total loan amounted to 50 million.

Taehyung had finally trapped Yoongi for good. As all the memories flashed in his mind, Taehyung grinned to himself. He had succeeded in reducing his enemy to dust. And he would soon have his reward: You.

*****

You lay terribly cramped on the platform, unable to move in fear of falling down. There were sure to be sunburn on your face. The fingers that had held on to the sides of the platform were now numb and senseless. You watched the sky turn orange, pink and purple, the colors amplified by the sea. Finally, the sky wore a deep blue cloak and stars came out twinkling. A chill breeze picked up salt from the sea and blew around you, smelling like fish and seaweed. The coldness wrapped around you like a blanket, engulfing you in the overwhelming smell of the sea. You could almost taste the salt in the air. There was a ship below which looked spectacular, decked in lights. The lights made you feel warm, and you kept wondering about all the lucky people who would be in that bright, cheerful ship.

You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep. But dawn was beginning to break according to the hues of the sky. You woke with a jolt when you dreamt of falling, and it was in sheer horror that you watched your slipper drop down the platform. You peeked over the edge and saw your slipper hurtling down. It became a speck as it touched the water, and a chill ran up your back when you saw the faint ripples that swallowed it and became calm again. You had to get out of there.

Where could you go? You had no home. Taehyung probably had men at the hotel you had stayed at previously. Yoongi still was in danger. You smelt like rotten fish. God, you had to wash up. The salt in the air had made your skin annoyingly sticky. The sun would soon be up, cars would start moving, and soon the platform would heat up again. Getting up and fighting the killer cramps in your legs, you held on to the suspender cables. Balancing your weight on the tips of your toes, you scanned the deck. There was very little traffic.

Making sure to grab the cables, you jumped up and caught hold of a rail. Good. Now all you had to do was pull yourself up. Easier said than done. After 30 minutes of cussing and panting, your feet were on the deck again.

This side of the city was clearly under construction. It was probably noon, but heavy rain clouds were gathering above you. As you jogged on, you could see trenches dug out and sealed off with construction tape, probably for road works. Some of them were pretty big and connected to successive trenches, almost like a muddy subway along the road. You were too absorbed in jogging to see a car tailing you. In a couple of minutes, two more cars joined it. The first drops of rain fell, and you decided to cut across the alleyways and wait out the rain.

Just as you turned and entered a lane, you ran smack into a car. The hood was hot, and you leaped back. The headlights blinked at you through the sheets of rain.

“Sorry. My bad.”

You attempted to walk around when you saw three cars blocking your path from the back. They slowly receded to a distance and blinked their lights and you turned again to see someone stepping out from the car before you. Him.

“Well, quite the chase, baby doll.”

He draped his arm over the door, watching you. The rain made your shirt transparent, causing it to stick to your body in the most delicious ways. The cold had made your nipples harden, and the nubs were poking against the shirt. His mind went into a frenzy as he took in the way the raindrops beaded on your face.

“Let’s go home now.” He advanced towards you, extending his arm.

“No.”

“Now now, baby girl, it is useless to keep resisting.”

“I will resist until I die.” Tears mixed with the rain, flowing down your face in torrents.

“We have all the time in the world for that.”

He pulled you against him, sniffing your hair loudly, making you cringe. With a harsh shove, he sent you flying into the car.

Your wet clothes were ruining his car, but to hell with that. He had found you. Reaching over a slender finger, he clicked the lock on your side of the door in place. The outline of your body was still visible through the sheer clothes, making his mouth water. God, was he going to have fun with you.

You had no way of escaping. The door was locked and the car was zooming past the trenches. Your eyes wandered to Taehyung’s side. And then you saw it. His side was unlocked. But how to get over there? Unless… ugh. But that was the only way to do it.

It was a surprise to Taehyung when you slid closer to him, face stony. He was even more surprised when you threw a hand over his lean, firm thigh. When you threw a leg over him and made a move as if to straddle him, his eyebrows shot up. Your eyes were closed, so he could not read the expression on your face. The wet clothes soaked through his pants and gave him gooseflesh. Eyes still closed, you slowly rutted against him, holding on to both his shoulders. Oh, Sweet God, how hot you looked, grinding against him, hair plastered against your forehead and water dripping from the ends of your locks onto his shirt. A sharp pang of want shot through the length of his dick and he moaned out loud. Before he knew it, you were gone.

As soon as he had closed his eyes with a moan, you had clicked his door open and jumped out, rolling on the muddy sloshy road.

When he found out and yelled to the driver to stop, he was too late. You were nowhere to be found. The beating rain made it harder to see. Muddy rivulets were running everywhere, dark brown and dirty. His body trembled in murderous rage on realizing that you had deceived him. Bitch. He pulled out a glinting object from his coat pocket. He gritted his teeth as he twirled your wedding ring in his fingers. The diamond sparkled and glinted at him as if laughing at his folly. He could almost shoot himself for being so foolish as to believe your little stunt. When Kim Taehyung flew out of his car, he was fit to murder.

*****

It was fortunate that there was no proper road where you had fallen. You had quickly rolled into a trench and stayed there. From your vantage point, you could see the trench extending on either way like a mini subway. You couldn’t stay there; the goons might check out the trenches too. So, with your head lowered, you crawled forward, palms splashing in the mud and splattering bright brown stains all over your clothes.

A good many yard later, the trenches grew deeper, meaning that you could now stand and still not be visible by anyone who wasn’t looking into the trenches. But by now, gravity had found its way and all the runoff from the rain was pouring into the dugout pits. As you walked further, you found with growing alarm that the water level was almost to your knees and still rising. The walking turned into wading, and the water never ceased flowing into the pits. A few blocks farther, the pits came to an abrupt end. There was no way to move forward. And when you turned back, there was no way to go back either.

The open tunnel was filling fast, and the muddy walls looked like they were going to collapse and fall in, burying you alive. The road was a few feet above your head, there was no way you could jump out of this muddy maze. The water was now up to your chest. So, this was it. This was how you were going to die. Drowned in a trench, muddied beyond recognition. But hey, better than being ravaged and killed by Taehyung.

Arms outstretched, you fumbled blindly around, even as your chin dipped in the water. Just a few more minutes and you’d drown. Helplessness made you wilder, and suddenly your fingers found purchase at a rock jutting out of the mud. Stepping on it, you heaved your weight on it, launching yourself a couple of inches upwards. Okay great, your chin was out of the water. But it soon would be in the water again. Shifting all your weight on one foot, you swung the other foot hard at the crude wall on your side. No harm in seeing if you could get out. It might fall in, but you would die either way.

On the third hit, your foot lodged well into the wall. Moment of truth. You shifted your weight to the foot on the wall and heaved up. When you opened your eyes again, you were still alive, the wall supporting your body and not crumbling as you had feared. One more swing. Another. Another. In a few minutes, you were lying on the mud outside the trenches, spitting out dirt and sputtering. There was a dump truck some feet away that looked deserted. Carefully scanning the path for any suspected goons, you hurried to the truck, crawling underneath, tucking yourself there and hoping to stay hidden till the rain stopped.

From under the truck, you could see a couple of cars whizzing past on the dirt road along the trenches. Suddenly, one of them stopped and three guys got out. They walked the length of the road and turned to leave when a guy abruptly turned and peeped into the flooded trench. The howling wind made it unable to clearly hear his voice, and you could only catch “… would have drowned if she had.” The men shrugged and walked back to the car, disappearing from view a couple minutes later.

There was only blank silence in your head as you lay under the truck. There were no thoughts, your mind was completely numb. Too much had happened in too little time, so your mind just blocked all the emotions out. Every part of your body screamed in agony. Damage was a sure thing if you threw yourself out of a speeding car. Throw in a muddy adventure with a near-death experience and you had one hell of a pain cocktail. The rain started to grow lighter, and soon you had to get going again. But where to? Damn the pounding headache that kicked in to add to your misery. Where could you go?

*****

Jung Hoseok had been stirring his coffee and looking out the window for a long time. He liked the rain, but only when he was not getting wet in it. The street looked deserted, everyone was probably huddled around the fire in their homes, sipping hot drinks. He turned to his wife Bo Na, who was reading a book.

“Leaves on the trees outside are all clean and green.”

She nodded, too engrossed in her book to comment. He looked out again. “Seems like they all had a shower and dressed up fresh.” She nodded again.

“I married an idiot.”

She almost nodded, caught herself and scowled, hitting him with the book. He laughed, pulling the book playfully.

“I wanted to check if you were paying attention, hon.” He was still laughing when he looked outside again, and the smile slowly faded.

“What is it, Hobi? What do you see?” His wife was now paying him attention.

“There’s a person all muddied up, walking down the street. Poor bugger. Homeless, probably.”

“What?” His wife stood up and craned her head to see better. “Oh yes, poor thing.”

Hoseok looked at the figure as it drew closer and suddenly stood up, toppling his coffee.

“Holy shit. That’s Y/N!”

He rushed to the door, yanking it open to reveal a figure completely caked with mud, with hair matted and dried up in brown clumps.

As soon as the door opened, you fell forward, sagging against him bodily, effectively passing out.

It was eighteen hours later that you opened your eyes. You were in bed, and a dull ache in your head made you wince. When you tried to turn, a jolting pain shot through your arm, startling you. And then all the memories came flooding back. You shot up in bed, looking down at yourself. Everything was clean, your skin, palms, clothes, feet, everything. The pajamas were not yours, they were baby blue, not the soiled mess you had been wearing before. There were Band-Aids on your arms, and you smelled fresh. Your hair felt soft and mud-free and you caught the familiar whiff of coconuts. Bo Na’s shampoo.

There was a pitcher of water on the bedside table. Just as you leaned over to reach it, a man came bounding inside, crushing you in a hug.

“Y/N! You scared me shitless! Thank God!”

“Hobi,” you managed to whisper, “How long was I out?”

“18 hours. What the hell were you doing, digging a tunnel to China?”

“Hobi - I …” you paused, lowering your head. “I’m hungry. Starving.”

“Oh yes, wait a sec. Let me get you something hot.”

When he returned, Bo Na was with him, a worried look on her face. Both of them wisely held their silence as you gobbled up all the pasta ravenously. When you were done, you fell back on the pillows, sighing contentedly. But guilt immediately set in, chilling your heart. Yoongi. Would he be starving? Would those bastards have provided him food? Water? Involuntary tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” Hoseok advanced, flicking a tear away with his finger. “What is it? What happened?”

And you told your friends what had happened, not leaving out a single detail. They listened with eyes that grew wider and wider in shock. Your voice caught several times, and Hoseok sat beside you, rubbing small circles on your back. When you finished, Bo Na’s mouth was set in a straight line.

“The sick bastard.”

She reached out and took your hand, squeezing it. “We will find Yoongi, Y/N. Let us go to the police.”

Hoseok shook his head. “There’s no proof to show that Taehyung did everything Y/N just said. No offense Y/N, I believe you completely. But the police might not. There’s no proof.”

“So?” Bo Na crossed her arms. “So, what else can we do? She already paid him back.”

“No proof of that either.”

You sat up, interjecting them. “But Bong Ju is a witness. He knows I went to Taehyung and paid the money back.”

“That’s right. So, what do we do now?”

Your forehead creased in thought. “Maybe… I’ll go to him and ask him what we should do? He might suggest something.”

“That’s like relying on crumbs, Y/N. No solid plan.” Hoseok stared into your eyes with frank honesty.

“I know, Hobi. But we can’t go to the police. Taehyung might seriously injure Yoongi if he knew we went to the police.”

“True, again. Well, in that case, let’s go to Bong Ju’s. I’ll drive you there.”

“That might risk your life, Hobi.”

“No probs. You are my best friend. Now come on, get dressed. Bo Na, lend some clothes to Y/N, honey.”

*****

You didn’t have your phone to look up Bong Ju’s number. You found him on the yellow pages and called ahead to let him know. When you turned to hand back the phone to Hoseok, he looked at you quizzically.

“What was that for?”

“What was what?”

He sighed. “Why call him? You know thugs are scouring the place to find you.”

You bit your lip. “I wanted to make sure he was at his place. Didn’t want to risk your neck twice in case he wasn’t.”

“Right.” Your friend still shook his head and went to the door. “Let’s go Y/N.”

When the car pulled up outside Bong Ju’s house, you had a sudden bout of anxiety. Would there be an ambush? You weren’t even sure if Bong Ju was genuine after all. You stepped out, whispering to Hoseok to wait down the street.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

He nodded and eased the car down the road, and you turned to look at the house. As you took a step forward, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye. The whole street was deserted, despite it being a fine day. Something felt odd. Maybe you should turn back? What you saw next made up your mind.

The window overlooking the street was open, and there were shadows on the wall of the room. Several round ones, like human heads. And one distinct one. A gun. Time to get the hell out of the place. You turned on your heel and pelted down the street, hearing a loud crash behind you as the door swung open. Burly guys ran out, hot on your heels. Shit, how much more running could you do?

You raced to the car, but there was no Hoseok in it.

“HOSEOK??” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The guys were closer now, you had to make a run for it. Where was Hobi? You jumped in and searched for the keys. They were gone. “Shit, shit, shit. Not now” you were boiling with rage. Where the hell was Hoseok? A guy reached the car door and thrust his hand at you. Anger made you braver than ever, and you bit his arm with all your might. Kicking the door open and hitting his groin with a hard kick, you pushed him aside and fled down the street. By then, you were familiar with fleeing successfully. Taking detours through alleys and narrow lanes, you threw the guys off your scent and hid out in an apartment’s parking lot for some time, just to make sure.

*****

You had to take elaborate round-about lanes to go back to Hoseok’s. Taehyung’s stupid sons of bitches were everywhere, cropping up like mushrooms. Maybe your friend had already returned home. But Hoseok’s car was not in the garage. He had not come back. At least his car had not.

Maybe he had called Bo Na and informed her of his whereabouts. As you stepped in, the carpet muffling your footfalls, you heard Bo Na sobbing into the phone.

“I will send - I will send her.” There was a pause to accommodate a violent fit of sobs. “Please let him go.” A longer pause. “No no no, have her, take her, do whatever you want. Just give me my Hoseok back.”

You stood rooted to the spot, stunned. She sobbed and pleaded, emphasizing how much Hoseok meant to her. To be precise, how less you meant to her. With a final nod that the caller would never see, she hung up and turned to see you staring at her, openmouthed.

“Y/N! I - I never meant…”

“Save your breath, Bo Na.” You cast a hard glare at her. But inwardly you were shriveling up with guilt. It was true that Hoseok was in danger because of you. That was a hard fact. When you spoke again, your voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry I inconvenienced both of you. And I’m sorry Hobi is in trouble because of me.” You wiped the corner of your eyes. “I will go to Taehyung. I’m sorry for all this. You will never see me again.”

“Y/N, it’s not like that -”

“It’s alright. I will get going now.” You turned and made for the door, and you had cleared the doorway when she ran up behind you and clutched your arm.

“Y/N, please. Please listen to me. I’m sorry.” She pulled your arm again. “Let me help you.”

“You’ve helped me enough, Bo Na.” As you tried to shrug her off, she held her ground and hissed angrily.

“Shut UP! Fucking shut up and listen, okay?” She loosened her grip, exhaling slowly. “I talked to one of my friends who knows someone who works for Taehyung. There’s no solid proof but it seems like Yoongi is not in Taehyung’s mansion right now. He’s somewhere else, in one of Taehyung’s luxury cottages. I got the general description of the place without asking the address straight out and raising suspicion.”

There was no word to describe your feelings, so you grasped her by the shoulders and blinked away tears. “Tell me more.”

She gave you a small note on which she had scrawled her friend’s description. “Don’t go to Taehyung’s. He will never take you to Yoongi. Go to the cottage.”

You nodded, staring at the paper in your hand.

Her voice broke again, and she whispered again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I could never apologize enough. But wait, let me get you something.” She ran off and returned with a drawstring bag. “I’ve packed a flashlight, knife and a lighter in here. Take my car.”

She held out the bag, and you accepted it wordlessly. She tossed her keys, nodding at you in silence. With a hug, you turned and walked out.

*****

It wasn’t difficult to find Taehyung’s cottage. But getting in would be a whole other story. There were armed guys outside the gates, and it was not a quaint little place you had imagined it to be. The building was massive, almost the same size as his mansion, the only difference being more trees and shrubs on the grounds. It most certainly could be called a chateau. The sun was casting long shadows, it would soon be twilight. You decided it would be easier to wait and slink in the shadows after darkness fell.

While you waited in the car, you formed a mental image of how you were going to get in. There was barbed fencing on the walls, but whatever, you could scale them. Something had changed you. Jumping over fences and tackling armed guys was completely out of your league. But you found yourself not scared in the least. The man you loved was trapped in there. Your best friend was held somewhere too. Nothing would scare you off.

It was a full moon that shone down at you when you scaled the wall, silently cursing as the barbs tore through Bo Na’s jeans and drew blood. The drop from the wall was equally efficient in drawing more curses as you limped into the shadows. Once positioned in the shadows, you slowly slunk from tree to tree, staying in the shadows and moving whenever the coast was clear. Your adrenaline made your vision crystal clear; every sense was on high alert. Hands trembling, you scaled a wall again and landed on the corridor of the second floor with a soft thud.

Digging out the flashlight, you gripped it without turning it on. Yoongi had to be somewhere dark. Maybe this place had a basement. If you ever had a captive, you would surely have him tied up in the basement. Trying to make the least sound possible, you softly padded down the stairs until there were no more steps. But this place was no basement. It was only an empty dark space with no rooms, only pillars. Just as you turned to go back up, your foot hit a hard metal object on the floor, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to avoid screaming. You knelt down to inspect, running your fingers on the floor. It was a trap door.

So, there was a basement. But there should be another entrance to the basement, you were sure. Taehyung the high-and-mighty would not prefer jumping down a trap door. An entrance had to be inside the cottage itself, from where anyone could get in. Well, in that case, maybe there wouldn’t be guards guarding the trap door. It was probable they were posted near the other entrance. It would be an advantage for you. The door was a heavy bitch that refused to budge. Your ears buzzed with the effort as you heaved it up, panting and wheezing. You peered down and saw a dim light down below, and cracked marble flooring. There was no ladder to climb down.

It was a gamble to jump down. There might be someone there, who might see or hear you. There was also the light to be wary of. Lying down, you crawled and balanced yourself on your arms till you could hang your head down the entrance. There was no one as far as you could see. It was a tough call, but you decided to jump.

The sound of your shoes hitting the marble was like a gunshot, at least to you it sounded loud enough. You ran like the wind and ducked in a corner, waiting to see if someone had heard you. The basement had a marble corridor that outlined four rooms. The doors were all shut, and a single worn-out light illuminated the whole area. The steps leading down to the basement was at the very end of the corridor, they probably led up to some unused room in the cottage. Your worry was none of these. The doors. Yoongi was behind one of them. But there were four. What if you opened the wrong door?

A quick sweep of your eyes told you there were no guards around. At least for the moment. With a beating heart, you raced through the corridor, having a quick look at all the doors and reaching the stairs at the end. You crouched under the staircase, revisiting all four doors in your mind. Two had been unbolted, so they could be eliminated. The door closest to the stairs would probably be the one. It was easier to reach from the stairs, and the bolt had looked like it had been oiled recently. You decided to risk it and open that one.

*****

Taehyung was generous with his guys; he took good care of them. It made his goons like working for him. They were unfazed by his unscrupulous deeds. Hell, he was a rich bastard who paid them well. His guys were loyal to him and were ready to move Heaven and Earth to get him what he wanted. And now he wanted you.

Taehyung’s guards were not picked easily. They were former soldiers, dishonorably discharged army men, martial artists and such. Only the best of the bad lot served him. They were already fuming that a woman had outrun them not once but thrice. They had their best men combing the county for you. And the best gunmen patrolled the corridors of the cottage.

One such guard had just finished his patrol on the first floor. He methodically went down the stairs, even if he knew there might be no one down there. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a dull light cutting through the darkness. The trap door was open.

*****

It was incredibly dark inside the room. There was an old musty smell that slapped your face as soon as you opened the door. You could not make out anything in the darkness. Should you risk using the flashlight? Just as you weighed the options, a faint clink of metal on metal reached your ears. It sounded like a metal chain. Restraints? Your heart skipped a beat and you punched on the flashlight. The bright beam illuminated a long chain of metal. You ran the beam along the chain and stopped when it hit a figure curled up in a ball.

“Yoongi?”

Your whisper caused the figure to move, and the person sat up, facing the opposite direction as the chains clinked with his movements. It was Yoongi. It was your husband. You ran towards him, a sob catching in your throat. There was a muffled mumble that sounded like your name. You raced to him, slamming onto his back in a tight hug. He was handcuffed, a gag was muffling him, and there was blindfold in place, obscuring his sight.

“Baby, baby,” you sobbed, tearing at the cloth and freeing his eyes.

The gag went flying too, as your fingers gripped it and yanked it hard. You draped yourself on his back, hugging his neck like a koala. He winced in pain, and you drew back in horror.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you crooned, squatting before him and taking in his face.

There were ugly black bruises around his eyes and more fresh purple ones along his cheek. His shirt had dried blood stains on it, and you lifted it gently to inspect his abdomen. There were bruises all over him, fresh and old, in varying colors ranging from blue to black. Your eyes fell on the metal chains and then your heart sank. Bo Na had anticipated ropes and had armed you with a knife. But these were metal. You couldn’t cut through metal with a knife. You leaned over and nuzzled your forehead against Yoongi’s.

“I’m sorry baby. I - I thought I could save you.” You sobbed out a bitter laugh. “At least I am with you. I let you down.”

He shook his head, wincing as he did so.

“No.” His voice was raspy. “I failed you. I was a fool. I couldn’t,” his face contorted in pain, “-I couldn’t protect you.”

You set the flashlight down, pulling him gently towards you and cradling him against your bosom.

“No honey, don’t say that. I love you, baby.” His face felt so bony. “God, they’ve starved you.”

You leaned in to kiss him, and you were gently brushing his lips when the light suddenly came on, blinding you and flooding the room with radiance. A man stood framed in the doorway, looking at you with cruel eyes. A slow grin spread over his features as he took in your startled eyes. Without a word, he stepped back, closed the door and bolted it, trapping you in with Yoongi.

*****

The door closed behind the guard, leaving Yoongi and you stunned. There was a sound of metal dropping on marble. And the next thing you saw was wisps of some vapor seeping into the room, curling around, the fine mist clearly visible in flashlight’s beam. The vapor grew in volume, oppressing the air around you and making you dizzy. And that was the last thing you remembered seeing before collapsing into unconsciousness.

When you came to, you were in a different room. A bright one. Your vision was hazy, and your mind was still groggy. You could feel your body, there were no ropes or restraints. Gingerly supporting yourself on your arms, you tried to sit upright. The sudden movement gave you a terrible headrush, and the room started spinning.

“Slowly, my princess.”

That voice. That damned deep voice again. You snapped your head to the side to see Kim Taehyung standing there in a full black suit, leaning casually against a glass wall. As your vision cleared, you saw that the glass was a partition. You jumped up and pounded on the glass. There, on the other side of the glass was Yoongi, head bowed and hands restrained. A long chain was wound around his waist, and the other end was attached firmly to a loop embedded in the wall.

Taehyung looked like he was enjoying himself.

“You came for me.”

You gritted your teeth in anger and snapped, “I came for Yoongi.”

“Yoongi! Yoongi!” You yelled yourself hoarse, balling your fists and hitting the glass. But he didn’t look up. Fear crawled all over you, and you shouted even louder.

“He won’t hear you, love. The glass is soundproof.” Taehyung did not move a muscle. “Maybe you’d like if I made him look your way?”

You did not answer, lips pursing up and trembling as sobs threatened to tear out of your body.

“Well, use your words, sugar.”

“Please, please just…”

He looked down at his shoes, bored. “Please what?”

Tears blurred your vision again. “Please let him go.”

“For what in return?”

“I - I gave you the money.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Y/N. I don’t care about the money.”

“But… but you wanted…”

“Yeah yeah but I got more than twice my money back. You are a great borrower.”

“What?” You wished he wouldn’t talk in circles. “What do you mean?”

“Who do you think gave you the mortgage on all your estates? Your house?” He paused for dramatic effect and reached into his coat pocket, dangling his trump card with a smirk. “Who bought your ring?”

You gasped, your lips forming an O, completely unable to believe it. Kim Taehyung got you to pledge all of your worldly possessions to him, and took the money you made from pledging it too? How cruel and twisted could a man be?

He enjoyed the look on your face, letting you work out things in your head before speaking. As you stood there stunned, he typed something on his phone. In a few seconds, the door on Yoongi’s side opened, and a guy came in. He landed a swift kick on Yoongi’s middle, waking him up from unconsciousness. There were two more kicks, and then the guy went out and closed the door behind him.

You watched Yoongi raise his head and take in the surroundings. Then his eyes landed on you. He instinctively rushed to move to the glass, but the chain around his waist jerked him back, making him bend over in pain.

Taehyung didn’t want Yoongi stealing his thunder. He cleared his voice, keeping it smooth and silky.

“You know, you made it so easy for me. Bong Ju told me it was a piece of cake to get you to mortgage all the property. Pity you wouldn’t agree to mortgage yourself though.”

“Bong Ju? He’s your man too? You bastard!”

The man simply chuckled. He dug his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“The important thing you have to consider now is,” he walked a couple of steps towards you, whispering, “I bought you out.”

He paused as he swung to take a look at poor Yoongi, still fighting the chains and grimacing in pain.

“You have nothing in the world, nothing except that loser over there. And I’ll take care of that too. But trust me, you won’t be orphaned. You’ll be mine. You’ll be a queen.”

There was nothing left to do except beg. You knelt down, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please, please just let him go, Taehyung.”

His eyes flickered and he swallowed thickly. “Oh, I love it when you say my name.”

You stayed down on your knees, clasping your palms together as if in prayer. “Please don’t do this, Taehyung. Hoseok and Yoongi did nothing to deserve this.”

He snorted. “Hoseok? Oh, that bastard is already home. And as for him,” his eyes swung at Yoongi with venom, “He has done a lot to deserve this. He stole you from me. He married you and gave you his name.” The nerve running down the middle of his forehead almost popped in his murderous rage. “I could kill him for that.”

“Please, Taehyung. I’ll never cross your path again. Please stop this. I love him, I love Yoongi.”

“SHUT UP!” His voice made you jump, as the veins of his throat stood out due to the exertion. “I had him alive for so long as leverage, to draw you here. But I don’t need him anymore.”

“But- but”

“Enough of this chit-chat. Get here, tell me you’ll be mine.”

“No.” You stood up, furiously brushing the tears from your cheeks. “I’d rather be dead.”

You took a weak karate stance, it was hopeless, but you were not going to give up. He feigned surprise, crossing his hand over his heart.

“Oh, darling. How cute you are!” He came closer, clasping your hands in his. “Don’t be naive. Let me give you a tip.” He pulled you closer, pointing his finger at the tied-up Yoongi.

“Look at his forehead. Look closely.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw what Taehyung pointed at. It was a red laser dot on Yoongi’s forehead, it was certainly from a gun’s laser sight. But there was no one else in the room apart from you, Yoongi and Taehyung. Who was aiming at Yoongi?

Taehyung loved the mix of fear and confusion on your face. He pulled you snug against him, rutting his hips slowly as your husband’s mouth moved in silent screams from the other side of the glass. The sounds were completely blocked by the glass, and Yoongi’s face turned red as he yelled himself hoarse.

Taehyung enjoyed this little show. He was going to claim you before Yoongi. He was going to show that bastard who owned you. All those times his family was insulted in social gatherings came tumbling back, making him lose his mind. Min Yoongi was going to die a loser, knowing that his wife was claimed by his rival.

Yoongi started crying, trying his best to pull himself closer to the glass. His face was covered in tears, wet and red from all the struggle. He closed his eyes and pulled himself forward, trying hard to stop the chain from crushing his midsection. You could almost hear him groan in pain, teeth bared as he charged towards the glass, hitting his palms against it in helpless anger.

The hand around your waist tightened. “Poor boy. Look at him strain. I think he deserves to see a good show before dying, don’t you?”

Your voice cracked down to a whisper. “Please don’t do this, Taehyung.”

“Wow, you sound so sexy with my name rolling off your tongue.”

He pushed you against the glass so Yoongi could see you closer. Your husband could not stand up, not without the chain breaking his ribs. He remained crouched, hands against the glass and eyes pleading, hot tears streaming down. The glass was the only wall that separated Yoongi and you.

Taehyung pushed himself against you, trapping you between his body and the glass.

“Someone brought a knife in a rucksack, hmm?” His hot breath fanned the shell of your ear. Your eyes were looking down, solely focused on the man who was on the other side of the glass. A strong leg pushed your knees apart, grazing your core. “Naughty little girl.”

“Taeh-”

“Shhh.” He grabbed a fistful of hair, sniffing it with deep breaths. “You don’t want him to die, do you?” His hot tongue licked a line along your jaw. “Then stay quiet.”

His large hands roamed your upper body, finding purchase on your breasts, gently kneading them as he moaned in lust. The glass vibrated against your body, as Yoongi beat against it, mouth moving in what clearly were angry expletives. This was the worst kind of torture a man could ever be subjected through, and you wanted to die and be gone before Taehyung went any further.

Fresh hot tears rolled down your closed eyelids when you felt the bulge pressing against your back as the man ground his hips against you. His hands continued kneading the soft flesh, and he twisted the nubs of your nipples, making you gasp and keen into his chest. He trailed soft butterfly kisses on your shoulder blades, one hand reaching between your legs and cupping your hot clothed core.

“Please, please don’t do this to Yoongi.” Your voice was heavily impacted by the sobs that racked your body.

“Oh baby,” he kissed your shoulder as he murmured, “you need privacy?” His cupped hand massaged your core, making you tremble. “This is the last he’ll see of you. Do you really want to cut that time short?”

“N-No.”

“Then just be a good girl and stop talking.” His hand gripped the zipper of your jeans, and you crouched down instinctively, delaying it as much as possible. He laughed lightly. Your crouched position was in level with Yoongi’s tired body on the other side.

“Want to save his neck some pain? I’m game.”

He knelt down, pushing his body against yours, spreading your body flush against the glass. Yoongi looked so miserable that you just couldn’t face him. The laser dot was still very much in place on his forehead. Taehyung tried prying your legs apart, but you just wouldn’t budge.

“Y/N, honey, I would love more foreplay. But not now, just open your legs.”

You didn’t reply. Nor did you move. A violent push sent your head banging against the glass, and two very strong hands dragged your jeans down, ripping the zipper open in the process. Yoongi threw himself at the glass, face utterly contorted in pain, the chain taut as it cut against his flesh.

Taehyung’s hands mercilessly tore the denim away from your legs, the big palms kneading the flesh of your bottom. You pressed your forehead against the glass, looking defeatedly at your husband crying on the other side.

Taehyung was practically salivating at having you in his grasp. This was an encounter he would never forget. His cheeks flushed at the sight of your bare legs and rotund butt. The white underwear was simple, but to him, it was incredibly hot. The fact that Yoongi was just on the other side, watching all of it in humiliation made him heady with lust. He dug a finger under the waistband and ripped the underwear off. You were wriggling far too much for his liking. He thrust an arm against the back of your neck, pinning your head in position, as he took in the view. He licked his lips and aligned his hips so he was spooning you. He was aching to be inside you already. The glass was made of special reinforced material, and he smirked at Yoongi lazily as the crying man pounded against the glass, pleading him to stop.

You had no choice but to stay put. You had to distract your mind from what Taehyung was doing. Your eyes focused on the red dot on Yoongi’s forehead. You just could not look Yoongi in the eye. Not when he was crying and screaming what looked like your name from the movement of his lips. You just wished it would be over soon.

There was the unmistakable sound of fingers unbuckling a belt. And then the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Within seconds, you could feel hot muscle pressed against your back. You were amazed that you still hadn’t shriveled up and died. The hand against your neck was removed. Just as quickly, you were pulled back, dragged by the waist and pushed down on all fours. You tried to keep your hips flat against the marble, but a sharp volley of slaps rained down upon your butt before your hips were forced into position.

Taehyung’s grip on your hips were as tight and hard as iron. You tried raising your body, only to be pushed down again with brutal force. Losing no time, Taehyung rammed himself inside you. He had been hard for so long, and the relief as he plunged into you drew a feral moan deep from his chest. You were too tight, and he grabbed your hair as he hissed at you.

“Fucking let me in, Y/N.”

He received no reply, not that he expected one. He could sense your body heaving, as strong sobs shook your entire being. He saw you raise your head a teeny bit, just to look at Yoongi in dismay. He picked up his pace, sending your head banging against the glass as he dove into you with each snap of his hips. He maintained an unforgiving pace, punctuating his thrusts with moans that almost chilled your blood.

“See how well I fit you, Y/N? You were made for me, baby.”

You had to say it. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been waiting for Yoongi to be the first one to know. But it had to be said now. It couldn’t wait longer.

“I’m pregnant.” Your whisper came out sounding incredibly hoarse.

Taehyung’s hips stilled. There was a heavy silence, Yoongi’s hands beating the glass was the only mild noise in the otherwise quiet room.

“What?”

“I’m - carrying Yoongi’s baby.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. “Does he know?”

“I haven’t yet-” A big hand clamped your mouth shut as he hissed urgently in your ear.

“He shouldn’t.”

You remained silent, and he started thrusting more viciously.

He punctuated each word he spoke with a thrust. “Do.you.understand?”

You had to tell Yoongi. You knew that. Taehyung might kill Yoongi anytime. You did not know what to do. Should you die too? But if you did, the only other living piece of Yoongi would die with you. Whichever way this went, Yoongi had to know.

Taehyung was watching you as he plunged himself into you. Yoongi should never know about the baby. He should die a loser. He had to make sure it remained that way. He saw the red bleary eyes of the man opposite him. He read defeat clearly in those eyes. That should not change.

You tried to make eye contact with your husband. It was incredibly mortifying to look at him as another man pounded into you. But you had to convey the message. You had meant to tell him previously, but you had been unexpectedly gassed and knocked out cold. As soon as you saw him looking at you, your heart broke into a million pieces. The man staring at you was not your husband. He was just a shell of the man he had been. All the light had gone from his eyes. He was in a way already dead.

You mouthed the words urgently, but he just stared at you blankly.

“Baby, focus.” You prayed that he could make out the words. “I’m.” You pointed at yourself. “Pregnant.”

He still looked blank, there was no recognition. Taehyung was still going at it, and you decided to hazard a mime by pointing at your belly.

Just as your hands pointed to your belly and Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, there was a splash of red all over the glass. You recoiled in fright, confused and scared. And then you saw. The red trickled down the glass, clearing the field to reveal a sight that would be burned into your memory forever. Taehyung finished with a long drawn out moan, spilling himself inside you. His lips curled in a sick smirk. His sniper certainly deserved a raise. And a bonus.

*****

Three years later

You had grown to be scared of the bedroom. Not only because of the things Taehyung did to you but also because of the nightmares. It was always the same horrible image of Yoongi’s bloodied face maimed beyond recognition. The blood splatters on the glass. The vacant eyes and the raised eyebrows that had stilled forever. It came back to haunt you every night, there was absolutely nothing that could erase it from your mind.

Every night was a battle. The bedroom made your heart wilt, it left you scared of sleeping. Every time your head hit the pillow, it made your chest tighten and burn like it was on fire. Just the thought of the approaching nightfall made your evenings anxious and dismal. It had been three years already, but you still half-expected Yoongi to come back and hug you, quoting Woolf in your ears in the softest of whispers. The only little part of Yoongi that was still alive was your daughter. Your baby girl made with the love that overflowed between Yoongi and you.

Taehyung had originally intended to destroy the baby. He did not want that man’s child growing up in his house. Those eyes and dark hair reminded him of his enemy every time he saw the child. He did not care for the girl; she was just a nuisance for him. But he knew that she was the only thread tying you to the world. If he snapped it, he might have to lose you too. So, he gritted his teeth and bore it, trying his best to steer clear of your daughter.

He had married you and given you his name. It was forced, of course, you had had no say in it. But much to his chagrin, the little bastard girl did not take his name. You had flat out refused to give her his surname. She remained the only Min in your world, the only little comfort in your otherwise horrible life.

It made your skin crawl whenever you felt Taehyung’s touch on you. It kept reminding you of the first time he took you in that room, letting your husband watch in humiliation. You could never ever forgive Taehyung for that.

Taehyung’s patience was wearing thin. He had let you keep that little horror, the mini version of Yoongi he so despised. He had given you ample time to get adjusted to him. What more was he expected to do? Just watching you tend to your daughter made him boil in rage. It was his child that you should be tending to. He was at a loss to understand how you still were not with his child, after all his efforts and precautions. He badly wanted to trap you and make you finally his. What better than a child to seal the deal?

*****

It was a cold winter morning. The lake near Taehyung’s winter villa had frozen and become a sheet of hard ice. The ice hadn’t properly frozen yet, there were still brittle patches of ice on the lake. You had made sure to lock the doors so your daughter wouldn’t wander out. You were in the process of baking some cookies for her when you heard Taehyung, your husband, shouting for you.

“Y/N!”

The sound came from the bedroom. Untying your apron and wiping your hands, you walked automatically in the direction of his voice. Ignoring him would only result in punishments, and you weren’t in the mood for them. These days, he had also started spanking your daughter if you didn’t toe the line.

The familiar tightening of your chest made your breath catch as you entered the bedroom. You stood there in complete shock, eyes wide and jaw hanging. The whole closet had been rummaged; all the clothes were strewn on the floor. Your eyes wandered along the strewn things on the floor until they stopped on finding what they had been scared to find. Your heart started beating fast, you were sure you were going to be sick.

Lying on the floor was an old shoebox, the contents of it scattered around. You had used it to keep little odds and ends, but the main object that you had hidden in it was missing.

“Searching for something?”

Taehyung held his hand out, rattling the pills in the little pillbox. His eyes were fiery, he looked like he was about to snap. Taehyung had two distinct tempers. One was the hot rage that would make him scream, hit you, overturn tables and break everything around him. The other was a cold mean streak, the one that made him plot so vehemently for the downfall of the entire Min clan. You were fearful and frightened, at a loss to know which side of him was going to pounce on you.

He stepped towards you slowly, eyes glinting murderously.

“Three years. Three years I’ve tried and you’ve just been taking these behind my back?”

He threw the pillbox down, sending it ricocheting off the floor.

“You think I’m a fool, Y/N?” His voice was rising to a dangerously high pitch. “You had the nerve to do this? After I let you keep that - that bastard’s child?”

One thing Taehyung had accomplished in three years was making your mouth never dare to answer him back. You stood motionless, unable to get a word out. You had been so sure that he wouldn’t find those birth control pills. You had hidden them successfully for so long. How could this happen?

“You answer me right now, bitch!”

His large fingers closed around your throat, threatening to choke you.

“I- I won’t carry your child.” The hold around your throat grew tighter.

“Oh, you won’t?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“I’d rather die than have your child.”

His hands left your neck abruptly as if he had touched something disgusting. There was a mean glint in his eyes as he stepped back and stared at you without breaking eye contact.

“We’ll see about that.”

He stormed out of the room. leaving you standing amid all the mess on the floor.

*****

You were back in the kitchen, fuming at Taehyung’s audacity in asking you to have his child. Who did he think you were? It was only because of your daughter that you suffered his existence around you. You had thought of poisoning him numerous times. But the clever bastard had made sure that you would have not a penny to your name if he died before you. You couldn’t be on the streets, not with Min Yoongi’s daughter. No. A good chunk of Taehyung’s money was what he conned and acquired from the Min family. It was your money, and your daughter’s. You just had to put up with him until you found a way out of all the mess.

You were whisking eggs, muttering to yourself furiously, thinking about what would happen later with Taehyung. He would surely give you hell. It made you tremble with anger. Just then, you thought you heard something. You looked out of the window, hearing the far-off voices of Taehyung and your daughter carrying through the wind. You couldn’t see from the kitchen window, and you hurried to the porch to see.

There, walking on the frozen lake with your little daughter by his side, was Taehyung. He was laughing and smiling down at her, letting her swirl around as she held his fingers. He was leading her to the middle of the lake. The part which hadn’t frozen over completely. The part which had a thin sheet of brittle ice.

“No!” You raced out of the house, not minding the cold air biting your bare arms. “Min Ha Neul! No, no! Come back!”

Ha Neul giggled on seeing you. She probably thought you were running to play with her too. She felt Taehyung tugging at her sleeve gently, and she followed him closer to the thin expanse of ice.

You pelted down the snow at full speed, shouting at your daughter to get away from the ice. Before you could reach her, it happened. Ha Neul was standing on the ice one moment, and gone the next. The ice cracked around her feet, plunging her into the horribly cold water.

“No! Baby!” You tripped on the slippery ice and fell, your leg suffering a nasty twist in the process. You couldn’t move, and you lay on the ice, pain shooting up your ankle. Your shouts were hysterical.

“Taehyung! Please! I’ll do anything! Please!”

The man had crossed his arms, standing away from the deep icy crater. When he heard your scream, his mouth twisted in a sweet smile.

“Are you sure?”

“God, just please get her out! I’ll do anything, I promise.”

There was a splash, and Taehyung disappeared too. You dragged your leg and crawled towards the hole he had jumped through. Within seconds, he returned, carrying an unconscious Ha Neul in his arms. He looked at you and flashed you a sickly-sweet smile. He had gotten his way.

*****

“Ready?”

Taehyung was lying on his side, hand supporting his head as he looked at you from the bed. His face betrayed no sign of depravity. He looked angelic, bangs brushing his brows as he eyed you eagerly. He was wearing his boxy smile, so bright and joyful that no one could ever guess what a monster he really was.

You were standing a little farther from him, near the little wastebasket in your bedroom. You had been completely defeated. There was no point in rebelling against him. You nodded wearily.

“Do it then.”

Your eyes welled up as you opened the pillbox in your hands, emptying all the pills into the wastebasket. You idly watched all the pills fall in slow motion, it felt like they were taking away your dignity with them. Finally, you tossed the box in, turning to Taehyung and holding up your empty hands.

His smile grew even wider. He stretched his hand out, extending it to you.

“Come here, baby”

You walked into his arms, and he pulled you onto him in a tight embrace. With a deep satisfied sniff, he inhaled the smell of your hair. His palms rubbed soft circles on your back.

“We’re going to have such beautiful babies, darling.”

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nite-shay · 4 years

Text

His Hero Part 4 (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

A/N: I don’t know if I’m completely happy about this chapter. I’m trying to get better with witting panic/anxiety/non-humor, so hopefully, next time, it’ll be a little better. Also, sorry for the long time off and just sporadic posting. Works been hell, but now that we’ll hopefully *grain of salt* were getting more people hired, I’ll have more motivation and time to write

Warnings: Panic/anxiety , references to sex and/or sexual acts (nothing descriptive but suggestive) so I guess 18+? IDK how this works :/ If yer too young, offended by sex , sexual acts, sexual reference or don’t know where babies come from, please don’t read.

Word count: 3K

Other then that, please enjoy! :D

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

*****

Kirishima didn’t protest when Fat sent him home for the day.

‘Go home. Clear your head. Call me if you need anything.’

Honestly, he barely heard his mentor’s words. He just sat there staring at the screen. Watching, pausing, rewinding, and watching again. Over and over again. It wasn’t until Fat picked him up and carried him to the door, did he finally get the memo.

Yeah... he didn’t need to be here right now...

The trip home was nothing but a blur, and honestly, he remembered nothing about it. His body was on autopilot as his mind tried to wrap the possibility that he might have a kid.

A kid… A son… Your son… His son? But… How? Err… Wait!

Ok, he knows the ‘how’ of how kids are made.

Better phrasing, how could this have happened!? He was always careful with anyone he was with! Err, not that was a really long list or anything. Typically, he was only intimate with someone he’s known for a while, and when he was, he’d use a condom, or they were on the pill.

Oh fuck. How could he have let this happen!?!?

Calm down. Calm down.

Maybe he was just overthinking everything? It could just be a coincidence. Sure, he and the kid have some similarity, but hey, there’s like, billions of people on the planet! So some are bound to look alike! That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re related, right? Total chance! That’s it! It’s that stuff we learned in school. Static? No, that’s not right; that was in science. The other thing was in math...Statistics! Yeah, that’s it!

So what if the kid has red eyes? His best bud Katsuki does too!

The sharp teeth? Look no further than his gym bro Tetsu! Hell, depending on the quirk, it can be a super common trait!

The quirk being exactly like his... well, ok, that was… odd. And yeah, he hasn’t run into any with his quirk specifically, but, big but, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there with his quirk!

Or maybe it’s not his quirk! Maybe its a similar one! Really, really, reeeealllly similar.

Total coincidence! Anyone can have those traits!

He just… happens to have all of them… just like the kid… whose mother he just happened to have slept with… around six years ago…

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. The air got thinner, making it harder for him to breathe. He jumped off the couch and started pacing. He’s had issues with anxiety for years, and one thing he did learn, when he got like this, he needed to move.

Breath and walk. Breath and walk. Breath and….wait! The kid can’t be more than five! He slept with you six years ago! Ha! The time doesn’t match up! So he can’t be his kid!

His legs felt like jello as the waves of panic finally came to a halt, and took a deep, much-needed deep breath.

He wasn’t a father.

This was a good thing. A great thing!

He doesn’t have a kid. The time frame didn’t add up. He was in the clear.

He should feel happy. Relief. Ecstatic!

So why did he feel like he just got punched in the gut?

He sighed as he made his way to his fridge in search of something to calm his nerves. Beer isn’t his typical drink of choice, but he was glad he kept a few on hand in moments like this. Since he was single and didn’t have a roommate, his place was the place of choice for ‘bro’s night.’

Though sometimes, there was nothing like a cold one to just chill after a long hard day.

He grabbed one of the glass bottles by the neck, activated his quirk, and flicked the lid off with his thumb. Cool little party trick he learned a few years back.

As he tilted the drink back, he took a long hard swallow and let his mind wander. The beer of choice today was one Katsuki preferred. It was good, smooth going down, and less alcohol content. Which was fine. Ochaco, even after giving birth, still couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. Pregnancy wasn’t a subject Kirishima knew a lot about, but he knew enough to respect it.

He’d seen her hauling ass many adays to the toilet of the slightest whiff of something she didn’t like.

Then the cravings came along, which prompted a few late-night trips to the store by Katsuki or himself if his bro was at work.

He chuckled as he thought about the few times Katsuki had said something to piss her off and sent him over to the redhead’s place for the night. Only to call him back a little while later in tears because of mood swings.

Towards the end was rough, though. She’d been put on bed rest and was in a lot of pain. Katsuki took fewer shifts during that time to stay home and help ease her in any way he could.

Damn, she went through all that for, what almost a year? Maybe not quite a year, but it had to be close.

Was it nine or maybe ten months?

His brain came to a screeching halt, mid-swallow as he started calculating.

Beer spewed out of his mouth and nose as he tried to breathe and swallow at the same time.

The nine months adds almost a year! *Cough* Meaning the kid’s age would make sense! *Cough Cough*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It can’t be true, can it? He… He’d used protection… hadn’t he?

His mind raced as he thought back to that night six years ago.

It was Izuku’s birthday and his girlfriend, future wife Melissa, rented out a small private Terence at a hotel to celebrate. It was small, maybe fifteen people max: just some friends, family, and a few colleges of the green-haired hero.

He was having a few drinks while chatting with Denki and Hanta when he first saw you. That was when he first saw you… You were chatting with your Melissa and Izuku, and damn… he couldn’t stop staring at you. You were so beautiful, and the way you tried to hide your angelic smile every time you laughed made his heart skip a beat.

Eventually, his two friends figured out just what or who had caught his attention. Which brought on a relentless amount of teasing. It took about twenty minutes, a few beers, and an angry blonde for him to finally make his way over to you.

Katsuki, at some point, approached his childhood friend, then proceeded to yell at him for some reason or another. Even on his birthday, the guy couldn’t catch a break. Now that he thought about it, it was over something All Might related. Something about a suit and which version was from what era? You were looking rather uncomfortable (Melissa was used to this) at the aggressive (mainly Katsuki) debate. That’s where he came in. With the help of Ochaco and Melissa, he finally got the two distracted enough to send them to opposite corners of the party.

And then, he was left all alone with you.

He was so nervous that he even stumbled through his own name. Luckily, he played off his nervousness by making light of his two friends. To his surprise, you took his jokes in stride and even had a few comebacks of your own.

The two of you must have talked for over an hour! Just one conversation after another. He’d never met anyone like you before. You were just so loving, kind, and just… wow!

Then things start to get a little fuzzy.

He remembered talking, drinking, joking, more talking, and more drinking.

A weird memory of a drunk Denki yelling, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!” before face planting into the punch bowl.

Then while everyone’s attention was on Denki, the two of you snuck away and back to his room.

A makeout session on the elevator leads to the two of you missing his floor and shocking an elderly housekeeping lady. That was embarrassing but didn’t seem to stop the two of you.

Then things get really, really blurry, but somehow the two of you made it back to his room without any other incidents.

While the rest of his memories were bits and pieces, but he… did remember the most of the ‘activates,’ and it’d been consensual, and yeah… he’d definitely used protection! That much he remembered!

The next thing he knew, it was the next morning, where he woke up alone, with a hangover, and felt better than he had in awhile.

Too bad that feeling didn’t get to last. His phone rang not long after he woke up. It’d been work, a villain was causing trouble, and they needed him asap.

He showered, dressed, grabbed his stuff, and left.

Then… he’d gotten hurt… bad…

Ended up in the hospital for nearly a week.

After he got out, he, well, had an interesting voicemail and charge on his credit card.

He blushed hard as he remembered the hotel’s message regarding the ‘damages’ done to the room. In particular, the ones done to the sheets and headboard. They even sent him pictures!

Damn, he couldn’t believe he lost control of his quirk like that. He hadn’t done that since… well, since his ‘first time.’ That was so embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn’t think he’d hurt you in the process. Of all the pictures and list of damages, blood-stained sheets weren’t listed. Maybe that’s why he never worked up the courage to reach out to you. Even if he didn’t hurt you, he might have scared you...

Wait….

He lost control of his quirk.

Oh… OH SHIT! Realization dawned on him.

Even if he had put a condom on, his quirk might have damaged it!

Then that means… there is a chance he's the father of your son!

FFFFFUCCCCKK!!!!

But wait.

If he really was your son… why haven’t you contacted him?

His footsteps slowed until he came to a standstill.

You would have told him if he was, wouldn’t you?

Granted, the two of you never exchanged numbers, and we’ll it’s not like he did much to reach out to you either, but… You would have known he’s friends with Izuku, so you knew a way to contact him.

Two-way street, buddy. He internally lashed himself.

Between racking his brain and scolding himself, he didn’t hear the knock on his door until the visitor started pounding.

“Oi! Shifty hair! Answer the damn door!” A loud, brash voice that could only belong to one person yelled through the abused door.

Katsuki? Why was he here?

Kirishima hurried over to the door before the blonde got too impatient and blew it down… again. He took a deep breath and put on his brightest and cheerful grin before opening the door to greet his grumpy best friend.

“Oh hey, Bakubro, what’s up?”

“Don’t bro me! Why the hell am I getting called from your boss to check up on you?” He growled.

“Fat called you?” That was a surprise.

“Yeah, he did. Had to switch my patrol around and everything.” He brushed past the redhead, letting himself in. Kirishima sighed as he shut the door behind them.

“I’m really sorry about that. Not sure wh-”

“Don’t start that bullshit with me.” Those fierce red eyes locked on to him. “And drop that fake ass smile. Always hated when you did that shit.” He mutters.

Damn, Fat just had to go and call him of all people.

If it’d been anyone else, anyone at all, he could play this off. A bright grin, crack a joke or two, maybe a few reassuring words, and he could send them on their way.

But not him. No, not Katsuki. Most people wouldn’t in a million years think the aggressive blonde could show anything other than anger. And yeah, the guy was rough around the edges, and he wasn’t the best with words. But nonetheless, here he was.

And sometimes, that’s all that mattered.

Fuck.

“So why am I here?” Katsuki wasn’t backing down, so Kirishima took a deep breath.

“What did Fat tell you?” While his smile didn’t waver, he felt his stomach belly flop to the floor.

“Bastard would spill it, just said you’d need me right and to get over here. Now what the fuck is going on?” While he still sounded angry, there was an underline concern in his tone that most people tend to miss.

Who would have known that would be the thing to make him crack? Well, obviously, Fatgum knew, hence why he sent the blonde over. The great explosive hero was one of the few people that could blow a hole right through his hardened armor.

Both figuratively and literally.

With tears in his eyes, he dropped his bright grin and let the damn of emotion bust. He explained everything that had happened. The robbery, the hospital, you, your son, the night he first met you, the security footage, everything! Hell, he was sure he went into a little too much detail when he described you and that night.

The blonde just stood there shell shocked as he tried to absorb the word vomit hurled at him.

“S-so, yeah… I might… have a…” he couldn’t finish. He just let the silence hang between them.

“You… dumbass.” He sighed quietly, running his hand through his hair before looking him right in the eyes. While his best friend was known far and wide to have a temper, when shit got real, it was eerie how calm and focused he was. “Are you sure he’s your?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean-”

“Have you talked to the mother?”

“N-No!”

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” He pressed. “Does anyone else think you’re the father?”

“No! Well, Fat might, but that’s cause he was with me when I put the piece together. But I haven’t told or asked anyone else about this. Honestly, other than the mother, I don’t even know who else to go-” The redhead piped up. Something flashed in his friend’s eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he was ready to commit murder. Fuck was he made? He hadn’t come to him about this yet!? Of course, he was! He was finding this out because his boss called him, not because he had called him! Some friend he is... “I was totally going to call you about this! I swear! You’re my best friend. This just happened so suddenly!”

“I know you would, Ei. Chill.” The blonde’s features soften for a second, soothing the redhead some. But he could tell Katsuki was trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m not mad at you but, I’ll ask again. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I only found out about this today, and I haven’t had any contact with (Y/N) since the other day and well at Izuku’s birthday party.”

“Ok. Stay here for a bit. You need to calm down. We need more information first. If he isn’t your kid, you’re losing your shit for nothing. And if he is... well,” He paused, “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” He pushed the hero towards the couch and made him sit down. “I need to make a phone call.”

Kirishima blinked as his best friend made his way towards his front door. “NOW SIT THERE. SHUT UP AND CALM DOWN!”

*SLAM*

This was a new level of anger for the blonde. He couldn’t stand seeing the redhead like this. He felt even worse, leaving him alone like this. The damn guy lived off socialization with others, so for him to be facing this alone.

Yeah... it really pissed him off.

The blonde stomped his way back to his apartment, which was just a few doors down. He did need to make a phone call; he hadn’t been lying. But it was a call, that big, dense red rock didn’t need to hear.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe this. Did shitty hair really have a kid?

Katsuki made his way inside his home. The home he shared with not only his wife but his newborn daughter.

Fuck. He has a kid… and he never even knew.

As he made his way through the foyer and into the living room, something caught his eye. Something black, orange, green, and tiny laid on top of a basket of unfolded laundry. It was the custom design onesie Momo had gotten for their daughter as a baby shower gift. The custom design was made to look like his hero costume. While he scoffed at the thing initially, he made sure that she wore home from the hospital.

Well, tried. About halfway through the hospital parking lot, she decided now was the best time to need a diaper and outfit change.

Little brat. He smirked.

If you’d ask him a few years ago what he thought of kids, he would have brushed it off, not really caring about it. His hero career was his focus. He needed no had to be number one.

But now that he has a little one of his own, he realized there was more to life than being number one. Was he still going to do it? You bet your ass, but now that he has his wife and his child that climb to the top well, he couldn’t dream of making it there without them.

He couldn’t imagine a world without her. Let alone a world where he didn’t realize she existed.

He whipped out his phone and thumbed through his contacts.

Especially if someone knew about them.

He took a deep breath and hit send.

Someone close to not only the kid but himself.

And still not tell him.

He knows. There’s no way in hell that precipitative little shit doesn’t know!

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“K-Kacchan. This is a surprise. You never call. Is everything-” Katsuki cut him off.

“We need to talk. Now.”

****

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01 , @simpforeveryone , @remember-happy-things

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barashikki-dialoversoc · 3 years

Text

02. Deceived

Word Count: 2056

Warnings: intimidation, deception, slight non-consensual touching

~~~~~

The ride to the new home was a long one. Bara found herself reading nearly an entire novel before the car came to a final halt. When she did look up, the view in front of her left her in awe.

A large and old-looking mansion. Not to mention there were some rosebeds in the front that showed they wound around the back. The place was tall and long, indicating that if Bara wanted to be by herself away from the guardian’s other kids, she thankfully could.

Bara got out of the car and retrieved what she still had with her since leaving the old apartment. While some objects she did take, most of the furniture would be donated to those in need. All that was on her was clothes, small furniture items from her bedroom, photos of her family, and the family scarf given to her by her parents.

Walking up to the front door with her school bag, a backpack, and her suitcase was a bit of a struggle, and even more so when she attempted to knock on the door.

It only took one knock and the door swung open. Gratitude filled Bara as she was thankful for someone helping her with moving in. But upon entering and taking a deep breather did she realize no one was there.

She turned her head left to right to see if anyone was around. There was no one.

“Uh… Hello?”

She entered a bit more and adjusted her bags near the base of the stairs. Already she felt the doom of having to haul her luggage even more up if her room wasn’t on the ground floor.

Even when trying to figure out where people were, she still found herself in awe of the mansion. Sure, it was dreary, but it was still an amazing feat to have a home like this in Japan. It was a sure sign of wealth if someone had this much land and such a large home with intricate detail.

As she observed the surroundings, she did pick up on footsteps coming from her left. She turned her head to see who it was.

There in front of her was a tall man with glasses. He was well dressed and had his violet-black locks neatly kept. The glare he sent at her wasn’t pleasant, but Bara knew not to let it unnerve her.

“And who are you?” he asked rather coldly.

“I’m Bara Shikki. I was told that a Mr Togo Sakamaki was going to take me in with his other children since I no longer have a guardian.” Bara held her tongue, refraining from asking if the male before her was one of the siblings mentioned. She didn’t want to possibly upset him more.

The male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That man did it again…” He was quick to snap up and look over at Bara. “Follow me this instant. The man that ‘took you in’ did not inform us of you arriving.”

Bara was quick to listen and follow him. Only one question came up as she followed. “I do have quite a bit of things. Is there anywhere you want me to take it once done?”

He looked at her slightly as they walked, Bara slightly behind him. “No need. Your bags have already been taken care of.”

Bara gave a glance back at where she sat her stuff to see it was now gone. Was there a butler or maid that fast around here?

She was directed into a living room, the only one already there being a blond laying on the couch. The room was better lit than the grand entrance and seemed cozier as well.

“Take a seat, Miss Shikki. I will gather my other brothers and an explanation will be given to why you’re here.” The male next to her stated.

“But… I thought it was just a guardian thing? What else could it be?” Bara asked. She was confused about what he meant.

He only glanced at her in irritation. “Sit down. What you were told was merely a way to get you willingly to our home.”

The last comment sent a chill though Bara, but the tone also made her meek and quietly obedient. Something was off, and now knowing she was merely given a temptation to come to this place made her even more nervous.

Soon enough, four other males joined the first two. The one that Bara had interacted with most taking lead again in speaking.

“We have a new guest, Miss Bara Shikki. It seems she was sent here by that man and will be staying with us from now on. Be kind and do not kill her.”

The color in her face paled.

Kill?

What in the world was going on?

She waited for a quiet moment when no one was speaking to bring up her first question. “Excuse me… But may I learn your guys’ names? I’d like to address you properly when living here with you guys.

At this point, the brothers in the room were tired of having to listen to the other telling them behave.

In an instant, the two redheads were surrounding Bara on both of her sides. The longer haired one seemed to linger more over her. The one who wa more true to a redhead simple tried to pull her closer to him.

“You only need to address me as Yours Truly. Nothing else,” the shorter haired one spoke as he yanked on Bara’s shoulder to pull her even closer.

“Oh come on, Ayato. Tell her your real name,” the auburn spoke.

Although he wasn’t any better as he continued to tangle his arms around Bara’s torso. One even began to attempt to slip between her legs, but Bara did her best to keep them pressed together.

“Laito is mine, Little Bitch,” he seemed to almost purr it into Bara’s ear. It was even enough for a chill to run through her, mainly from never having dealt with such interactions before.

Not expecting it, even from herself, Bara jumped forward out of the armrest she was sitting in and ran a few steps away from the two brothers. Her eyes darted to them at a moment to make sure they didn’t jump on her again.

“Do not get into my personal space like that!” Bara tried to keep her voice at a reasonable level, but it still came out somewhat squeaky due to her panic.

A sound of someone scoffing came from behind her. When Bara went to look, it was the white-haired male. While he didn’t say anything else, Bara had a good guess on his name from Laito calling it earlier. But she was quickly pulled from her thoughts as the blond on the couch made a comment.

“Don’t be noisy. It’s bothersome.” No other comment came from him. It seemed some of these brothers didn’t want to answer a simple question.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t intend to be so loud.” Bara went to shift slightly, but found herself bumping into yet another person.

This time it was the shortest of them all. And while he was the smallest, he still gave off an intimidating energy, despite holding an innocent expression on his face. His wide eyes were studying Bara and his arms around his teddy bear seemed to grip the bear tighter. With no response coming from Bara’s still form, he neared closer with his face, being only a few centimeters from hers. His nostrils flared as he took in a few breaths.

“You smell sweet… almost like the flower you’re named after.” His voice was soft, despite the edge he was still putting Bara on.

It took her a moment to process it, but Bara soon registered his words. “Uh… thank.. you.”

“Hey, Kanato, you have to share with us~” Laito spoke from his area near the armrest, although Bara could sense he was about to move closer.

The seemingly innocent male in front of Bara seemed to have a switch flipped inside of him as his soft expression turned to one of frustration. She swore she could’ve seen a vein almost appear on his face from the aggression he immediately began to stew.

“Kanato…”

“Why should I share when you and Ayato were already all over her? Huh?!” He was loud enough to make Bara cover her ears. Never had she heard someone scream so loud, well, save a baby screaming for food or a nap when out and about with its mother or father.

“Inside voices… I shouldn’t have to remind you of this.” The male with glasses was very annoyed, not liking how his brothers acted.

Bara bit her lip as she debated speaking, but she had to at least know the name of the one who had been kindest to her. “Excuse me, but what is your name?” She kept her head in the direction of who seemed to be the eldest.

He looked back at her in the eyes. Despite his somewhat scary demeanor, he seemed to not mind sharing his name without some other intent behind it. “Reiji.”

Bara thanked him before going on to question her circumstances.

“Why am I here if it isn’t to simply have a new guardian?” The ‘kill’ comment was also bothering her, but she knew she had to pace her questions out.

“You’re our new plaything, isn't it obvious?” Laito commented as he tried to near Bara again, but she moved away and behind Kanato, trying to shield herself away from the pervert.

Little did she know a simple action like that did not go unnoticed by the purple-haired male. It didn’t show in his stature, but he would still stand his ground from his brother.

“You’re the next sacrifice to us. That man sent you here for one reason or another, either for enjoyment or for one of his ridiculous plans. In a few days time, you may find there’s one of us you’d rather stick to. I’d choose wisely by then.”

“And… The kill thing from earlier? You guys aren’t serial killers or something, are you?” If she was living with serial killers, she would truly be done for. Dread only began to fill her once again.

“We aren’t those, but can easily crush you with one fist.” It was the white-haired male who spoke up.

Bara took note of how he gritted his teeth, seeing how his cuspids were a lot longer and sharper than the standard healthy cuspid tooth. She then began to see if anyone else would show their teeth to see if it was something they all had.

Although the thought was stopped immediately when she felt a steel grip on her arm yank her to the front of Kanato. A small yelp left her lips from the surprise yank and pinching of her flesh between Kanato’s fingers. The male pulled her close to him, this time with bodies closer as well. His breath ghosted over her neck as one hand went to pull away her scarf to expose the flesh.

Were they…?

“Your scent is too sweet. I want to taste it.” His words were quiet and almost missed by Bara.

“Huh?” She tried to pull away, but the boy wouldn’t let her. All the information and actions performed so far were only frightening her more. What didn’t help was that two of the brothers had left, mainly due to the annoyance of their siblings. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re merely a human, you’ll learn in time to watch yourself,” Reiji commented.

“Kanato, Laito, Ayato, if any of you kill another, you will get by far, the worst punishment I can throw out yet.” That was his last comment before leaving the room.

While still gripped by Kanato, Bara zoned out into her own mind as the three remaining brothers began to argue over who would have her, mainly on how Kanato didn’t want to share and how Ayato wanted first dibs.

She was human, they were something higher.

The smallest of them all had inhuman strength.

Another had sharp teeth.

They had to be demons.

No, vampires.

She was deceived.

She wasn’t going to a positive and loving home.

Bara was sent to be a treat for some supernatural beings.

#bara shikki #diabolik lovers oc #dl oc #Bara Shikki Story #oc character #writing #oc story #diabolik lovers oc story #oc writing #Bara Shikki Series

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Meilooruns and Gundark Snot and Hutt Slime, Oh My!

For @pinkiemme as part of the 2021 Star Wars Fun in the Sun event. Big shoutout to @lilhawkeye3 - thanks so much for organizing this event! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, and I hope you enjoy it! @starwarsfandomfests

Rated G, ~2k words, no major things that need warnings

AO3

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

“What’s this all about, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

“I owe Dex a favor … never imagined he would call it in for this.”

It was a rare day off for both the 501st and the 212th while they were on leave on Coruscant. Luckily for them, their leave coincided with the beginning of Coruscant’s summer, and it was on such a warm sunny day that Obi-Wan rounded up Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex for a trip to Dex’s Diner at the request of the diner’s owner. Outdoor seating had been added for the season, and the group sat themselves down at a table under a large umbrella as Obi-Wan went inside the diner to inform Dex of their arrival.

“Gotta say, this is not how I imagined spending my day off,” murmured Anakin as he drummed his fingers on the table.

“Beats meditating in the temple like Master Yoda would want me to do,” Ahsoka responded.

“I just can’t believe I’m going to eat something other than standard issue rations,” said Rex. He wore his full armor, without his helmet, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to Ahsoka. “If the men knew where I was they’d be jealous.”

Obi-Wan soon came back out from the diner, followed by a Besalisk man carrying covered trays in two of his hands.

“Everyone, this is my friend Dex, the owner of the diner,” Obi-Wan said as he introduced the Besalisk man with him. “Dex, this is Anakin Skywalker, his Padawan Ahsoka Tano, and Captain Rex of the 501st.”

“Wonderful to meet you all! Any friend of Obi’s is a friend of mine!” Dex greeted them all in a booming boisterous voice. “I have concocted some original flavors of ice cream I hope to serve at the diner later in the season, and I have invited you all here to sample them.”

Obi-Wan sat down next to Anakin, and the four of them watched as Dex sat his trays down on the table and took off their covers. On each tray were two small bowls containing scoops of blue ice cream and spoons.

“First, I am starting you off with some standard sweet bantha milk ice cream to cleanse the palate.”

“Ice … cream?” Rex asked, curious and confused. He watched the others take bowls before grabbing the last one for himself, and after seeing Ahsoka shove a spoonful into her mouth, he followed suit.

“Good isn’t it?” Ahsoka asked him.

Rex nodded as he finished his bite. “It’s … cold. And sweet. Not too much though, just the right amount.”

“You’ve never had ice cream before, Captain?” Dex asked in disbelief. “You clones are putting your lives on the line for the Republic every day and you don’t even get to enjoy the simple luxuries of life? Unacceptable! I’m sending some back to your barracks with you, enough for your whole battalion!”

“That’s very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Dex pulled a small comm device out of his apron pocket and pressed a button. A short moment later, a procession of server droids came outside to the table, each holding a tray similar to the ones Dex brought out.

“Now if you’re ready, here is my first original creation: meiloorun melon tart! Give me your honest feedback, please.”

The first droid in the procession set down the tray and pulled off its lid, revealing four bowls of magenta-colored ice cream with swirls of orange. Everyone grabbed a bowl and dug right in.

“Not bad,” commented Anakin. “has a nice tangy flavor.”

“This is delicious, Dex,” said Obi-Wan, “I appreciate how the sweetness doesn’t overpower the natural flavor of the fruit.”

“This tastes almost like real fruit,” said Rex before taking a second bite of it.

Ahsoka, meanwhile, took one bite and set her spoon down. “It’s way too bitter,” she said.

“I think you need to get your taste buds checked, Snips,” Anakin teased her.

“Come now, what may be appealing to humans may not appeal to people from other species,” Obi-Wan admonished him.

The next flavor of ice cream Dex had them sample was called jogan fruit cookie dough. The ice cream itself was white, and it contained chunks of purple cookie dough as well as chocolate chips. Obi-Wan ate it silently, then gave a small smile and nod of approval to Dex.

“It’s a little too sweet for me,” said Anakin before he dug his spoon in to take a second bite.

“I think it’s the perfect blend of sweet and sour,” Ahsoka told Dex.

Rex, however, suddenly dropped his spoon onto the table. His face scrunched together in a wince, with his lips puckering together.

“Is it too sour for you, Rexter?” Ahsoka asked, a teasing lilt in her tone.

All Rex could do in response was nod. His face slowly relaxed, and he picked his spoon back up.

Next, Dex had a serving droid bring them glasses of water, and he also advised them to have another bite or two of the blue bantha milk ice cream as a palate cleanser. As Obi-Wan surveyed the colorful assortment of ice cream on the table, and the varying opinions from his friends, he thought that Dex really couldn’t go wrong with any flavor.

That is, until Dex served them ice cream that was a mossy shade of green with flecks of brown and gray. “Kalpa sea thread!” he declared.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, and Ahsoka all glanced at each other uncertainly. None of them imagined that Kalpa sea thread and ice cream were a winning combination. Regardless, the shrugged and dug in.

Ahsoka started with a small spoonful, but then followed up with a larger one, making sure to get some with plenty of gray and brown flecks. When she finished that bite she gave her review: “Honestly, I don’t taste anything.”

“It tastes … odd.” Rex commented.

Obi-Wan finished his bite and stared down at his bowl, stroking his beard as he did. “I suppose … if the meiloorun melon wasn’t available, this would do in a pinch.” His tone was even, neutral, the voice of someone giving a diplomatic answer. Dex responded by quirking a skeptical brow at him.

Anakin, on the other hand, scarfed down the contents of his bowl in only a few bites. “This is fantastic!” he proclaimed. “Got that nice herbal zest, a bit of mint-“

“You like it … and you said I was the one who needed to get her taste buds checked?” Ahsoka asked, raising a brow in skepticism.

“Hey! Like Obi-Wan said, different species of people like different flavors sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you’re the only human here who-“

“We don’t need to reach a consensus, we just need to be honest in our assessments.” Obi-Wan interrupted Ahsoka. Both Ahsoka and Anakin shot him a look, as Obi-Wan’s non-answer to Dex had not gone unnoticed by them.

“You could not have said it better, Master Kenobi,” said Dex before motioning for the next serving droid in the procession.

The droid set down the platter and removed its cover to reveal ice cream that was a pale green, with chunks of yellow and gray candies embedded in the ice cream.

“What is this?” Anakin asked as he took his bowl, staring at its contents quizzically.

“Gundark Snot – only because that’s what the coloration reminds me of! I promise you no Gundark parts or excretions were involved in the making of this flavor!”

“You got close enough to a Gundark to see that?” Rex asked as he took a bowl for himself.

“A story I shall regale you with another time, Captain.”

“It’s a good one too. I was there,” added Obi-Wan before he had his first bite of the ice cream. He grimaced in response to how it tasted, and once he swallowed it down he gulped down some water. “I can’t say I enjoy this, Dex,” he said apologetically.

“Me neither,” Anakin said after he had a bite of it. “Tastes like raw meat.”

Rex merely shook his head as he stared down at his bowl, looking as if he was thinking of a way to succinctly and diplomatically express his opinion on it.

“This is great!” Ahsoka chirped in between spoonfuls.

Anakin, Rex, and Obi-Wan gawked at her.

“What? I never imagined ice cream could taste so savory. Got a nice bit of salty tang to it too!”

“Well, I guess I can count on it to be a hit with my Togruta customers,” shrugged Dex.

After another glass of water and a few bites of blue bantha milk ice cream to cleanse their palates, Dex served up the final round of ice cream.

“Hutt Slime!” He proclaimed, gesturing to the bright yellow ice cream before them.

Anakin scowled at the name. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Dex. Ahsoka and Rex glanced at each other and then shrugged.

“I was pleasantly surprised by the Gundark Snot, maybe I’ll like this too,” Ahsoka said before she took a bite of the Hutt Slime ice cream. Almost immediately she grimaced at the taste and shook her head. “Or not … it tastes kind of like what a baby Hutt smells like … it has a funky aftertaste, too.”

“Bet you don’t remember little Stinky so fondly now, eh, Snips?” Anakin teased her. He looked down at his own bowl, considering its contents with a furrowed brow, and it wasn’t until he saw Obi-Wan take a bite that he had one as well. He nearly gagged on it as he swallowed it down.

“I don’t care for this,” Rex said plainly after sampling the contents of his bowl. He chased it with water and another bite of blue bantha milk ice cream, only to wince and shudder at the combined taste of the blue bantha milk and the Hutt Slime aftertaste.

Not even Obi-Wan could keep a neutral expression. He shook his head and forcefully pushed the bowl of ice cream away from him. “This is not your best work,” he said to Dex.

“They can’t all be winners, I suppose.” Dex shrugged. “But a few of them were good, right?”

“They were culinary masterpieces, my friend.”

“I gotta say, Obi-Wan, this is not how I imagined spending my day off.” Anakin said. He and Ahsoka were at work loading temperature-controlled crates into the back of their speeder. Each crate contained a large tub of ice cream in their favorite flavors: Kalpa sea thread for Anakin, meiloorun melon tart for Obi-Wan, Gundark Snot for Ahsoka, and blue bantha milk for Rex. Dex also informed them that he would send a variety of flavors, including his experimental ones, to the barracks where the 501st and 212th were quartered during their time off the front lines.

“But I still had a good time, and I now know where to get the best ice cream on Coruscant.”

“Agreed … do you think I could lure Masters Windu and Unduli to Dex’s to try the Gundark Snot?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone laced with mischief.

“Most definitely. I want to see their faces when they try it.” Anakin answered.

“I wish I got a picture of your face when you nearly choked on the Hutt Slime,” Ahsoka said to Anakin. “Or Rex’s when he had the sour cookie dough flavor!”

“Or yours when you had the Hutt Slime, Commander,” Rex shot back with a smirk.

“When we get back we’ll all have to sample our least favorite flavors again to get pictures of the amusing faces we make,” said Obi-Wan as he ambled into the front passenger seat of the speeder. Ahsoka and Rex climbed into the back of the speeder, utilizing the crates of ice cream as armrests and leg rests.

“Just how I imagined spending my day off on a nice summer day, choking down some more of that Hutt Slime,” murmured Anakin as he hopped into the driver’s seat and started up the speeder.

“You could always invite Senator Amidala to join us!” Ahsoka suggested. “I bet she’d love it!”

“No way I’m subjecting her to that, Snips.” Anakin shot back as he took off, driving the speeder back to the Jedi Temple. As he drove along, he thought that taking Padme to Dex’s for ice cream wouldn’t be a bad idea for a covert date at some point during the summer. She would like the jogan fruit cookie dough.

#my writing #star wars fun in the sun 2021 #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #clone wars

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Note

do you have an oc? i want hear about your ocs

Right! I’ve actually had these four siblings in mind for a while, and I *will* use any excuse I get to talk about them. In my defense, they’re all great. Babies that are well past spoiled-rotten, but they’re my babies, and I can’t help that. (The picrews used are here x x x x)

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Delusional Mindsets, Non-Consensual Drug-Use and Toxic Relationships.

Name: Lionel Hardcastle

Position: The Failure of an Older Brother

Age: 26

Type: Delusional And Obsessive.

Bio: The tranquil, would-be heir to the Hardcastle organization. Although his younger siblings were considered, Lionel was always the best with clients, the calmest in painfully crushing situations, and even if he made a point to hide it, the undisputed favorite of his parents. He would’ve taken over as soon as he was of-age, but his glaring lack of interest in the world of business and leadership provided quite the roadblock.

Well, and the fact that he can’t read. Never could, never will, and he shows no indication of an ability to learn. Needless to say, this caused some… minor issues between him and the rest of his family.

That might be why he likes you so much, his sweetheart, his love, the light of his oh-so-frigid life. You’re just so kind, and he knows you’ll never abandon him, even if you act so stubborn whenever he asks you to promise. It’s all he can do not to laugh when you throw your little tantrums and scream like you don’t adore the affection he’ll lather onto you so suffocatingly. There’s nothing he’d rather do than be around you, any moment where his skin isn’t on your instantly becoming unbearable. It’s no wonder he’s always the first of his siblings to snap. He hardly remembers to breathe, when you’re not in the room.

Lionel is quite the artist, too, focusing on stone and sculpting but dabbling in paint whenever the temptation strikes him. Suffice to say, as his fixation begins to outweigh his rationality his patient partner becomes his favorite muse. There’s more of your likenesses in existence than there are galleries to house them, but don’t worry, Lionel’s got a special portion of his workshop dedicated to all those mediocre extras, if only to keep himself sustained when you’ve switched from begging for the restraints to come off to hiding yourself away. Still, there’s only so long he can last before breaking and running to find you. If you really wanted to be alone, then you must not want to be with him. That’d mean you were trying to get away from him, trying to leave him, and…

Lionel just isn’t sure if he can take that. Not again, and certainly not from you. He’s a weak man, when it comes to that, but he as more than enough iron-based safety measures to put his mind at ease.

Name: Persia Hardcastle

Position: The Motherly Middle Sister

Age: 25

Type: Controlling and Overbearing

Bio: Where do you even start with Persia? She’s the second-born, but it wouldn’t be untrue to say she’s more akin to a nanny than another Hardcastle. Part of it comes from how she grew up, how she had to take care of a pair of twins and deal with a suddenly absentee older brother, all while juggling just how unprepared her parents were for their own tragic, mysterious, purely accidental deaths. But, some people think she’s just… like that. A perfectionist, even when it comes to her own flesh-and-blood.

Of course, you’re no exception. She’s just as tightly-laced with you as she is while trying to save Finn’s reputation or bring Lionel back home. She does love you, don’t get me wrong, but you’re her stress-relief, her saving grace, the only factor in her life she can have complete control of, even if she doesn’t realize just how much sway she has over you. She knows it isn’t healthy, that no one should think the things she does about you, but Persia can’t risk losing you. She won’t lock you up, she isn’t crazy, but… she doesn’t really have to use chains and collars, either.

It’s odd, how fixed a certain behavior can be for one person, even after they’ve outgrown the use for it. She was the main caretaker for the twins while they were growing up, so she may’ve gotten into the habit of being a little… parental, when it comes to those she loves. If that just means giving you a disapproving look when you’re eating something you shouldn’t be or insisting on tucking you in at night, count yourself lucky. Falling into her role a little too passionately certainly wouldn’t be out of character, not when she’s already so invested in making sure you’re happy and healthy and by her side. Her angel’s medication is a small price to pay for bliss, really, even if you’re such a baby when it comes to taking it.

Name: Evelyn (Evie) Hardcastle

Position: The Mature Younger Sister

Age: 19

Type: Manipulative and Possessive

Bio: Now, here’s our heir. I mean, why wouldn’t she be? She’s fully literate and everything! Evie’s parents were already gone before Finn and her were so much as differentiable, but their advisors caught on to the siblings’ personalities quickly. Naturally, Evie found her way into a position of power as quickly as she was able to, not only for lack of competition. Not unlike her older brother, she doesn’t have any real interest in whatever vague, sketchy medical field she was thrust into, but Evie stands apart from the pure-intentions of most Hardcastsles. She likes the power of it all, how big it makes her feel.

She likes knowing she’s the one in charge. You’ll come to understand that, with time.

There’s a good chance you’re her assistant or secretary or some member of her staff that made the mistake of getting a little too friendly, stumbling your way into her cold, dead heart before she could properly put up her defenses. The specifics don’t really matter, not as long as you have those big, shining doe-eyes and the sense to do whatever she says without a second thought. She just thinks you’re so soft, so cute, so vulnerable when you’re in the hands of someone stronger than you… you can’t blame her for getting a little carried away, honestly.

Don’t worry, though, Evie’s the most responsible sibling for a reason. She’s not a nice woman, but she can put on quite the show, as long as it’s for your sake. She’ll be whatever you need her to be for the longest time, whether that’s a boss willing to make compromises or a shoulder to cry on. She’ll string you along for as long as she needs to, having you isolate yourself and falling into her arms so sweetly, but her patience tends to wear thin when someone else comes into the picture. Do your best to avoid that, regardless of how minor the relationship may seem. She already keeps you on such a tight leash… it’d be a massacre if you gave her a real excuse to use force.

Name: Finnian (Finn) Hardcastle

Position: The Rebellious Younger Brother

Age: 19

Type: Jealous and Obsessive

Bio: I hope you’re not prone to whiplash, because Finn is the polar opposite of his sister. Despite being twins, identical on the deepest level two people can be, Evie was groomed while Finn was cast to the side, spoiled and let run wild, unimpeded by the standards his other siblings were held to. He has nothing to do with the family cooperation and as little to do with the others as possible, and he likes it that way. You might’ve caught on, by now, but Finn isn’t exactly the ‘business’ type.

But, distance breeds loneliness, and loneliness breeds desperation. It’s not that he latches onto everyone and anyone, no, Finn is rather selective, but he refuses to let go when he does find someone he wants to be with. You’re just so smart and so clever and so perfect, and all Finn wants to do is stay close to you, to never leave your side. The goal is innocent, full of misguided hope, but Finn didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want to follow you home or that it’s a little off-putting for a stranger to sit so close to you on an empty train, nor is he going to catch on if you try to turn him down gently. Hell, even if scream and do tell him what a pathetic stalker he is, you won’t get very far. Finn is just so happy you’re talking to him, he can’t bring himself to process what you’re saying.

Oh, and keep in in mind that he’s very used to being the center of attention. Whether it’s Persia’s persistent demands for ‘family time’ or Evie’s loudly voiced concerns, Finn knows when he’s the focus, and he doesn’t like it when the spotlight is somewhere else. That applies to you, too, as hard as he tries to stay on your good side. Distractions aren’t an option, he just gets so twitchy whenever he starts to think he’s your second-favorite, even if you’re being stolen away by a gift he got for you. It’s not a pleasant sort of envy, either. The way he clings to you and whines may seem harmless, at first, but Finn isn’t exactly good at holding himself back, especially when it comes to you. Desperation can turn into destruction in the blink of an eye, and he rarely goes after your new toys.

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yshai-tia · 4 years

Text

. layercake

.LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: y’shai tia

“at yer service, mate. aye, though ye might wanna ask again inna moon ‘er so-- lil’ more papers ‘ta push through an’ the last bit’ll change there. still can’t gods damned believe it if y’ask me.”

eye color: blue (left), green (right)

“pree’ common combo fer seekers, y’know? green from me ma, can only guess the blue from dear ol’ pops. is tha’ how it works? i ain’ a genetics sorta guy.”

hair style/color: black, lackadaisical

“oi now, leas’ it ain’ a qiqirn’s nest. take care ov’ me braids though, if yer lucky jus’ might tell ye what they mean some day.”

height: 5 fulms, 9 ilms

“look, ‘m tall fer a miqo’te, thas’ gotta count fer somethin’. ain’ about the height, mate, s’all ‘bout how ye use what yer slapped with.”

clothing style: predominately black with abhorrent amounts of leather

“what, like either ov’ those things ‘er ev’r gonna go outta style? lookin’ good an’ bein’ durable, ye can’t really go wrong there. an’ it ain’t like ‘m allergic ‘ta change, startin’ ‘ta get used ‘ta this whole buttoned ‘ta the throat business. sorta.”

best physical feature: absolutely everything, take your personal pick

“c’mon now, lookit yers truly, notta shortage ov’ ‘bests’ in sight, choosin’ jus’ one would jus’ be cruel. thick thighs, thick arse-- lil’ thick in th’ head sometimes but, aye, leas’ yer lookin’ at somethin’ nice.”

.LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: physical restrictions, i.e. being bound, failing to protect those he loves and/or hurting them himself, powerlessness and ineptitude, particularly large coeurls

“cor, jus’ had ‘ta go from a fun question straight ‘ta this. lighten up, mate.”

your guilty pleasure: who’s guilty?

“ain’ nothin’ guilty ‘bout indulgence-- an’ i sure as shit don’ think ‘bout-- ... ah, fuck. guess there was one time... but that was long ‘go now, ain’ no point bringin’ it up.”

your biggest pet peeve: don’t get him started

“the fact that ul’dah exists, does that fuckin’ count? aye, yer right, ‘ta big ‘ta be a peeve. cor, i dunno, what ye cryin’ over spilt yak’s milk fer. i guess... aye, well, this is a personal one-like, but whiddle this fer a second; self-proclaimed sorts ov’ engineers who go off wif’out a single thought fer consequences. ... aye, aye, i hear ye, real fuckin’ bold fer someone like me ‘ta bitch ‘bout that, but, listen, a guy can change. it’s one thing ‘ta fuck ‘round with things ye don’ understand fer the sake of curiousity but ye also don’ see me gettin’ ass deep in allagan bullshit jus’ cause there might be a fancy toy there that tickles me boredom away fer a spell. shit’s got its conveniences, aye, not like i dunno the uses ova’ tomephone-- but most ov’ it is also fuckin’ dangerous, not sayin’ that it shouldn’ be explored proper, but not by some renegade blighter who fancies himself some magitek wiz so far up his own arse it makes yer local garlean look like a dozen o’ roses.

swear, ye got folks out here thinkin’ jus’ cause they can take apart a chronometer ‘er do some basic maintenance on a firearm that they’re ready fer solo-scavenging-- next ye know they’re wadin’ in aetherochemical spills an’ huffin’ ceruleum.

so that’s one fer the road there, ask me again sometime an’ i’ll enlighten ye ‘bout all the fuckin’ joys ov’ seeker racism ‘ve ‘ad the pleasure of gettin’ ‘ta know.”

your ambition for the future: much and more

“one day ‘atta time has always been me go of things, aye, gander though i ain’t without dreams, ‘specially now with tha’ stability in me life-- let me think ‘bout things that i nev’r really thought mattered ‘ta much ‘ta me ‘fore, the future an’ like.

firs’ thing that comes ‘ta mind would be me projects, bein’ able ‘ta have me own workshop has been both a blessin’ an’ a curse; blessin’ fer obvious reasons, curse cause ‘m startin’ ‘ta have one ‘ta many irons in the fire, if ye whiddle me meanin’. the biggest one though... even i gotta admit tha’ this is a generational project at bes’ outlook, but. workin’ ta’wards bein’ able ‘ta purify an’ clean the land ov’ the remnants of war-- speakin’ ov’ ceruleum spills an’ the like. with hope me husband says that we could maybe one day bring th’ elementals’ blessin’ back ‘ta tainted lands, thas’ his field of expertise at work there... jus’ bein’ able ‘ta rid the land ov’ imperial consequence is a worthwhile goal ‘ta me, i reckon.

oth’r than that.. there’s some silly things, aye, winna big marksman competition ov’ sorts, fish up a catch that no one’s ev’r seen ‘fore, get stronger... thas’ one thas’ nev’r changed, fer differ’nt reasons now mind.”

.LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: depends on the morning

“considerin’ the curr’nt season an’ all, most of me mornins’ start with me husband latchin’ on ‘ta me an’ not lettin’ me leave the bed at leas’ an extra bell fer the sake of warmth.

which is ‘ta say me first thoughts when wakin’ are pree’ fuckin good ones.”

what you think about the most: his husband, work, personal projects, underlying worries and responsibilities he’s not prone to publicly airing

“i ain’ exactly the ‘fee-low-sof-ick-al’ type, mate. keep it simple-like, thinkin’ ‘bout what’s in front ov’ me, the next step aft’r that.”

what you think about before bed: depends on the night

“‘pends on if ‘m too fucked out ‘ta even think ‘fore sleep takes me ‘er not. still, thoughts still mostly the same ‘gardless-- usually somethin’ long the lines of jus’ how godsdamned lucky i really am.”

you think your best quality is: once again.... take your personal pick

“well, ‘lready mentioned me ass, me thighs... if ye fancy scars me chest an’ back are pree’ damn nice too, me arms got some neat lookin’ ones lemme-- oh, y’don’t mean physical this time. cor, why didn’ ye say so.

shit, uhh... well, i ain’ the type ‘ta give up, come hell ‘er high water. shit tha’ might be a flaw but fuck it, it gets results, at leas’.”

.LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: single

“the hell issa group date? like a bunch’a folk all mated goin’ out? separate mated pairs? yer missin’ me here. only got eyes fer one, so the point is prolly moot.”

to be loved or respected: respected

“this issa easy one. trus’ me, know what is like bein’ ‘loved’ without respect, shit’s fun fer a spell, strokes the ego ‘til yer cummin’ yer own pride an’ fumes, but is all the same as a grog binge down at the Wench-- ev’ry single time ye’ll wake up feelin’ like shite an’ prayin fer death. ye can get mighty high on’a pain an’ pleasure cycle like that, aye, but ‘ventually the pain wins out.”

beauty or brains: they correlate

“me baby’s got both, so it ain’t like i gotta choose. ‘m a spoiled bastard, i know.”

dogs or cats: both

“cute buggers aren’t they, the both ov’ em. been at the mercy ov’ the teeth ov’ ‘em both too-- from coeurls ‘ta imperial trained bloodhounds. still, can’t rightly hate the animal fer instincts an’ trainin’, all jus’ tryin ‘ta survive.”

.LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

lie: naturally. but also poorly

“ain’ ‘xactly me strongest suit, fair, but ‘ll bullshit me way ‘round somethin’ if i gotta.”

believe in yourself: of course-- sincerity is a non-factor

“fake it ‘til ye make it, mate. call it cheesy writin’ on the wall ‘er what’ver ye like, shit does the job. no one gives a shit how ye feel ‘bout yerself-- jus’ fuckin’ tell yerself that ye got this an’ go. don’ look back.”

believe in love: he’s in it

“kinda hard ‘ta refute somethin’ ‘m experiencin’, y’know.”

want someone: every second of every day

“jus’ ‘cause ye already have it don’ mean that ye stop wantin it. aye, if anythin’ jus’ want ‘em even moreso. constantly, shit never stops. it’s fuckin’ heaven, lemme tell ye.”

.LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: not professionally

“nothin’ like singin’ er dancin’, less ye count bar tables as impromptu stages.”

done drugs: not always consensually. but a moko edible every now and again isn’t such a crime.

“relax, ain’ like i make a habit ov’ it. special occasion, really. don’ fancy bein’ out ov’ it ‘ta of’en.”

changed who you were to fit in: naturally

“ye gotta if ye wanna survive beyond yer own comforts, mate-- that is if yer lucky ‘ta be born inta’ such ‘ta begin with. look, is called adaptin’, an’ if ye haven’ noticed we miqo’te are pree’ fuckin’ good at it. not even mentionin’ tryna fit in at home-- when i left it was change ‘er die; changed when i started learnin’ the common eorzean tongue, changed when i started dressin’ different, when i started learnin’ how ‘ta act, walk an’ talk so as ‘ta survive, hold me own. y’see it all the godsdamn time-- lookit every miqo’te who changed their name once they started livin’ in one ov’ the big cities, aye, not all ov’ ‘em do, but ‘nuff do ‘fer us ‘ta notice.

it’s adaption. it’s survival. hide parts ov’ yerself ‘ta preserve the greater whole. ain’t sayin’ it’s a nice thing tha’ we gotta do it-- but, aye, survival rarely is ev’r nice.

... if yer lucky though, if ye live long ‘nuff, ye can start reclaimin’ them hidden parts ov’ yerself back, aye, s’process.”

.LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: black

“were ye expectin’ anythin’ else? ain’t gonna say no ‘ta gold either-- ‘specially of the rosey sort. they jus’ go ta’gether so well, y’know.”

favorite animal: jaguars, of course

“biased? me? ‘course not.”

favorite food: seafood in general, rustic homecooked meals, spicy food, way too sweet cream-filled coffee, nostalgic preference for almonds, coconuts, and fruit based desserts

“ye ev’r have those lil’ balls of cod deep fried in batter? could get meself sick on those buggers. too damn good. ‘specially if ye add a generous ‘mount ov’ dragon pepper ‘ta the fish ‘fore hand. ‘course if it’s good, fresh catch then ye can’t go wrong with simplicity neither, crab meat straight from the leg with no bells an’ whistles issa snack fit fer the finest.”

favorite game: card games, puzzles, anything that can spur fun competition, whether it be from hunting, to racing, to a snowball fight, isn’t adverse to the cheap thrill of betting on a race chocobo every now and again

“anythin’ can be good, fun competition if yer willin’ an’ rarin’, nothin’ like a lil’ friendly fire under yer arse ‘ta get the legs movin’ an’ cogs whirrin’.”

.LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: 28th day of the first umbral moon

“would be pree’ wild if me nameday wasn’ on.... me nameday.”

how old will you be: 29

“ugh, c’mon, i’m tryin’ not ‘ta think ‘bout it. knock it off.”

age you lost your virginity: between the ages of 19 and 21, he does not specify

“whas’ it matter? past is the past. leave it alone.”

does age matter: to an extent

“i ain’ no damn preacher, but it’s pree’ godsdamned obvious when someone is exertin’ power ov’r another. s’reason there be words like kid an’ adult. don’ fuckin’ be that person.”

.LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

best personality: bullheaded, smart, witty, compassionate, strong-hearted and strong-willed, brave, stubborn, impatient, and rather tactless

“maybe toss in a damn fine arse an’ voice like’a songbird-- wait, those ain’t personality traits?”

best eye color: rose gold

“bonus points if they gotta nice, natural glow ‘ta’em.”

best hair color: a warm rose peach with a streak of pale blonde

“what? ‘m a guy who jus’ knows what he likes. an’ i like what i like, cuff me if issa crime.”

best thing to do with a partner: exist with them in the entirety of life’s capacity

“call me fuckin’ sentimental, but learnin’ ‘ta fuckin’ live, really godsdamn live, with ‘em rath’r than jus’ survive... can’t fuckin’ be beat, jus’ can’t. shit’s golden, can’t wait ‘ta do it ev’ry single day on this star ‘til me times’ up.”

.LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: “me husband.”

i feel: “pree’ chuffed, might go fer a nap.”

i hide: “poorly. mean have ye seen me, mate? ain’t easy hidin’ when yer this big. less’ maybe was in a house built with roes in mind.”

i miss: “me ma. aye, still lot’sa things that make me miss home, wouldn’ change where i am now fer the world, mind.”

i wish: “... fish. er, sorry, mind blanked there. they rhyme. been at sea fer the past few days now.”

tagged by: @ffxiv-sunderedsouls tagging: this is a stupidly late response so not sure how alive this particular meme is still but, here’s the deal; you wanna do this? do it and tag me THAT WAY i’ll know in the future to tag you in other things, good deal, right? right?!

#.memes #.sun kissed panther || y'shai #shai really out here like #whatever nothing bothers me #But Actually #And Another Thing #fuck this and that and the kitchen sink actually #what a boomer #for all he's grown he still never shuts up #sorry for the long post ;;;

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writtingrose · 4 years

Text

30 Days of Kink; Day 17

Day SUMMARY; Consensual non-con with Undertaker

WARNINGS; sexual content

REQUESTED BY; @kittysilver86

BETA’D/ CO WRITTEN BY; @takeemtoclaymorecountry

WORD COUNT; 1,062

Undertaker smiled as he slipped the key into their door and slowly pushed it open. It was late, a little after eleven pm and she would be getting ready for bed giving him enough time to get up stairs to her without her knowing. He shut the door behind him quietly, careful not to make a sound as he slid his boots off and sat them beside the door. He was a little nervous as he made his way up the stairs, but not enough to deter him from the plan.

He gripped the soft rope in his hand as he neared the bedroom door and licked his lips. He could hear her moving around on the other side of the door.

Y/N was getting ready for bed, waiting for Taker to come home. Though she knew what was gonna happen tonight, she was still a little nervous. They had never tried anything like this before. She felt safe with Mark and knew he wouldn’t actually hurt her.

He pushed the door open slowly, the large wood frame not making a single peep as he stepped into the room behind her. He neared her silently and grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back.

“Now, now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing at home, alone?”

His heart was beating a million miles a minute as he waited for her response, hoping he wasn’t too rough. They had talked a few days ago, set up a safe word, and agreed that tonight was the night. He just didn’t want to push her too far.

“Waiting for my husband, who are you?” She said innocently. She was trying to play it up. She wanted this to be good for the both of them.

She struggled against his huge hands. Already she could feel the moisture pool between her thighs. She knew she was gonna enjoy this but she didn’t expect to enjoy it this much.

“He should have known better than to leave a beautiful woman home alone.” He chuckled and kissed her shoulder as he tied her hands together; tight enough to keep them there but loose enough she could get free if needed.

“I’m a friend, sweetheart. Someone who’s going to take care of you.” His hands came up to grab at her breasts, rolling her nipples under his thumbs. “Good care of you.”

“W-what are you doing? Don’t tie my hands, please!” She shouted, struggling against the ropes as she pushed against his large frame.

“My husband is a pro-wrestler, he can hurt you! You need to stop!” She cried.

“He can’t touch me, Y/N.” He smirked as he nipped her neck. “And he isn’t going to be home for quite some time. So,” he chuckled against her skin. “I’m going to fuck that pretty little pussy. I can tell you need it.”

His hand roams lower on her body. “Can tell he isn’t fucking you right.”

She almost moaned out when he bit her neck but she bit her lip. Her struggling got weaker as his hands traced fire across her skin.

“No! Please you can’t! Don’t do this!” Her voice had lowered to almost a whisper.

“I can.”

He growled as he directed her to the bed, pushing her down face first. He moved back, quickly stripping out of his clothes before moving back towards her. He nudged her legs apart and cupped her pussy with his hand.

“I’m going to destroy this, princess. Make it mine and mine alone.”

She wasn’t able to catch her moan this time. When she realized she had she cringed. She wriggled on the bed against his body; the cool air on her cunt making goosebumps rise on her skin.

Her arousal began dripping onto the sheets, revealing what she was truly feeling. No matter what she said, he would know the truth and she liked it.

Undertaker groaned as he moved over her, kissing and nippling up her neck before he sank his cock into her. He began to thrust roughly, not giving her a second to catch her breath as he held her hips and nipped her ear.

“Look at you, sweetheart. As wet as a whore when she sees a cock. “Does your husband know what a dirty slut you are.”

One of his hands moved to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back.

“Fuck, you take cock so well.”

Y/N moaned as her defenses struggled, giving into the pleasure.

“My husband doesn’t do this!” She shouted. She felt her walls squeeze around his massive cock.

“No, he doesn’t!” He growled as his hips slammed into hers, the sound echoing around the room along with their panting breath. “You’re going to think about this everytime he touches you now aren’t you? Think a bout a real man fucking you.”

He groaned, his orgasm getting closer and closer at the mere thought of what they were doing. He was enjoying this more than he thought he would and wanted nothing more than to fill her tight cum with his warm seed.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She screamed. Her cunt started to spasm as her climax started to peak.

“Oh god I’m cumming.”

“Me… too!”

Mark groaned as he thrust in one last time, stilling as he pumped ribbon after ribbon of his cum into her. Her own orgasm matched his, soaking his cock with her juices as she freed her hands from the loosely tied rope and fisted the sheets.

He slowly pulled out of her after a few moments and helped her up, kissing her gently as they made their way towards the bathroom.

“You did so good, my love, so good. I wasn’t too hard on you? How are your hands?” He helped her sit on the side of the tub before turning the water on, adjusting the temperature how she liked it.

She giggled and shook her head, basking in his care and praise.

“No, baby, it was wonderful. We could even...we could do it again? Maybe a little rougher?”

A blush covered her cheeks as she looked up at him, a smirk on his face as he nodded.

“Yes. I would like that.” He helped her into the water before sitting behind her. “We can discuss it more later. For now, let me wash you and get you in bed, my love.”

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 9 - 5 Things

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut/Action

Word count: 7,211

Ao3

Masterlist

A/N: Wow, two chapters in one week! Don't expect this to keep this going lol! This chapter has major trigger warnings for: non-consensual acts, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions/implications of r*pe, violence, drug/sedative use.

Amazing mood board by: @brokenblossoms36

Your head was spinning.

Your eyes were watery, your heart palpitating. You struggled to open your eyes, but all you saw was a blur of blinding light. You saw a shadow, a movement, but it was still unclear as the light was piercing your eyes. You tried to shield them with your hand, but found that you couldn’t move it.

You were seemingly tied to a chair.

How did you get there?

Your throat felt dry. A wave of nausea came over you and you gagged, but nothing came out. You blinked away the tears and squinted at the figure now looming in front of you, blocking the light.

It was all coming back to you now.

You were walking from the Academy to the nearest metro station, heading to the public library in Old Gotham- since your usual one burned down. You had noticed a hooded man following you from behind as you turned into a secluded street.

You remember slightly panicking, because despite your training and reflexes, he was much much faster than you were. The next thing you knew, you woke up right where you were.

Your vision cleared as the cloud in your mind disappeared.

Red Hood was looking down at you, arms crossed. This close and vulnerable, he seemed taller than you remembered.

You also remembered that you weren’t Robin at the time. You were a spoiled girl adopted by the billionaire Bruce Wayne.

“W-where am I?” you squeaked, “Wh-who are you?”

Red Hood simply stared.

You tried on the ropes that he tied you with. It was tight, well knotted. You wouldn’t be able to get out of those without assistance.

“P-please,” you quivered your bottom lip, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Silence.

No windows. You couldn’t see a door either. The bright light almost completely blinded you to the dark room you were in.

“My dad is Bruce Wayne,” you pressed on, “He’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.”

You started sobbing, going hysterical in panic.

Then, Red Hood started chuckling. “You’re not a bad actor,” he said.

“I- I- I don’t know what you’re t-t-talking about,” you stuttered in breaths, “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I p-pr-omise.”

“Quit the act, baby girl, you’re boring me,” he turned around and walked away from you.

Despite your commitment to acting, you couldn’t help but notice his well sculpted ass that was on your eye level as he strutted away.

“W-wha?” you continued, “Please, mister, I don’t know anything. Please let me go.”

Red Hood leaned against a metal table you only just noticed, “I prefer you snarky and bitchy. This isn’t fun. Quit the act before I make you.”

He was calm, as he always was.

You did suspect that he knew your identities, but you couldn’t risk it.

“You’ve got the wrong girl,” you wailed, “I’m not who you think I am! Please, sir, you have to believe me!”

“You know, I never asked,” he began, “How’s Nightwing?”

“N-nightwing?” you gave a watery hiccup.

“Yes, Nightwing, your older brother, Dick Grayson, ex-Robin, Boy Wonder, et cetera et cetera,” he waved his hand, “What else must I tell you to get you to stop? Bruce Wayne is Batman? How about Barbara Gordon is Oracle? Ring any bells?”

You couldn’t help the shock that appeared on your face. If he knew about Barbara, he was more than just a crazy conspiracy theorist. You decided to drop the act.

You gave one last sniffle and looked at him coldly, relaxing against the cool metal chair that you noticed were bolted to the cement floor.

“There she is,” he walked nearer to you again, noting your immediate change of expression when you conceded.

“He will find me, you know,” you told him.

“I disabled the GPS tracker on your phone. Also the one in your pendant,” he nodded at the jewel around your neck that you wore every day. Bruce had gifted it to you on the first year anniversary of your adoption. It was a silver robin with a small diamond glittering on its breast.

You didn’t even know there was a tracker on it. You mentally cursed Bruce for disguising it in a form of sentiment.

“So what do you want, Red?” you demanded. Surprisingly, you were calm. You didn’t feel any fear. Something told you that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Nothing in particular,” he shrugged, “Maybe I just wanted you all to myself.”

You scoffed.

“What?” he bent down to meet you in the eye. You could see your own reflection on the white lenses of his mask. “Can’t I just want you? I haven’t seen you in so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

You glared at him. The fucker was mocking you. He was right about you missing him, but still.

“Because I missed you, baby girl.”

Even with the voice scrambler, you noticed his voice had dropped an octave. You gulped, and for some reason, butterflies filled your tummy.

He straightened up, “You look so cute in your uniform. The skirt. Which sexist pig designed it that short and made underage girls wear them?”

He squatted down in front of you and tilted his head. “Pink? Adorable.”

You grit your teeth. You could practically hear him grin. You tried to close your thighs but your legs were tied to the chair, forcing them slightly apart.

“Don’t tell me you kidnapped me just to tie me up and take a peek at my panties, Red,” you scowled.

“I’ve done crazier things, baby girl,” he stood up, “What’s wrong with a little talk?”

“So. Talk,” you hissed.

He reached out an arm towards your face. You forced yourself not to wince and maintained eye contact. He caressed your cheek with his gloved hand, his thumb trailing down to press against your lips.

You bit it.

“Fuck!” he recoiled, and then chuckled, “Should have expected that. I do love your feisty side anyway.”

“You don’t know me, Red. Just because you know my identity, it doesn’t mean shit,” you spat.

“I know you’re not who you pretend to be,” he gripped you by the hair and forced you to face him. The slightly rough pull made your breath hitch. “I know you try to hide it from everyone. You're not the good girl people think you are.”

“The same could be said for every other angsty teen. Try better,” you retorted.

He released your hair and chuckled again, “I really did miss you.‘’

“I’ve been busy, you see. Things to do, people to kill, the usual,” he went on, “Did you see what I left for everyone?‘’

“You mean Black Mask? Sorry to break it to you, but it wasn't much of a surprise. It was either you or him eventually,” you rolled your eyes.

“You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” he hummed.

“That's what you get for tying me to a chair,” you snapped.

“You people ought to be more grateful towards me,” he stated.

“Grateful? Really?” you condescended.

“Black Mask was a gift,” he claimed, “Now you have one crime lord less in the streets.”

“Yet here I am tied to a chair,” you sassed.

“Get over it, even the Bat’s done worse than this,” he chided.

“So what makes you so different from Black Mask? You think you're better than him?” you stated. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't tried to answer that question yourself. That you didn't lie awake at night justifying his actions.

“My, oh, my. Don't tell me you still haven't figured it out?” he mocked you, “I don't do this for any profit. In fact, I'm just like one of you.”

“You are not one of us,” you growled, “We don't kill. We're not barbaric like you are.”

“Which is why you won't ever get anywhere!” he argued, “That's what the Bat always failed to get. You can't stop crime. But you can control it. Thats what I'm doing. And I take the necessary steps to achieve it. The Bat is a coward.”

“You're wrong,” you defended, “He doesn't kill not because he's a coward. It's so much more than that. A person like you would never understand.”

“A person like me, huh?” he suddenly said quietly, the direction of his gaze fell towards the side, as if he was reminiscing. The change of tone surprised you. It made you think that maybe he wasn't always bad.

But it didn't matter who he used to be. What matters is who he is now.

“I'll make you see eventually, you'll understand soon enough,” he squatted down in front of you again, “but for now, let's talk about us.”

“Us?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, baby girl, us. Don't you feel like there's something between us? I feel like there's a spark,” he adopted his tone of mocking again.

“Fuck off,” you snarled.

“I'd be lying if I said I don't think of you as I lie in bed, touching myself. You'd be lying if you said the same right?” he put his gloved hands on your bare thighs. You could feel his heat beneath the leather.

You'd be lying if you said that didn't excite you just a little bit.

“You're too full of yourself,” you responded, “And I happen to have a boyfriend. You're the only pervert here.”

You obviously lied about the boyfriend part. You wanted to seem like you had other things better to do than think of him.

Which, for some reason, seemed even more pathetic.

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “So what? I bet that doesn't stop you from thinking of me.”

His hands slid up your thighs slowly, bunching up your skirt in the process.

“What are you doing?” your voice went high, “Stop that.”

“When was the last time you told a bad guy to stop and he actually did?” he asked.

He had a point.

Still, you didn't like the way that he didn't disgust you. You didn't like the way that he made you want him to go further up.

And further up he went.

Until he paused at the crease of your thighs, and then suddenly pressed a thumb on top of your clit. A jolt of pleasure shot through you.

“Stop it,” you repeated.

He ignored you again, this time pulling aside your panties and ran his middle finger up in between your lips. The middle finger you’ve thought about countless of times.

With the same thick finger, he pushed inside you slowly, all the way to his knuckles. You felt yourself automatically squeezing around him. You bit your lip.

He started sliding it out, and then back in again. It felt so different, having someone else's finger inside you.

Having his finger inside you.

Then, he curled his finger, hitting a spot inside you that you've never touched before, eliciting a soft moan from you.

Your eyes widen when you realised what you just did, and you turned your head away, blushing.

With that, he took his finger out, and then stood up. His crotch was at your eye level, and you could see his hard on straining against his pants. You didn't realise that your mouth watered at it.

“If only you wore skirts as part of your uniform, we could do that again whenever we meet,” he taunted you.

He didn't comment on your moan, nor the wetness that was left on his finger. Instead, he took off his glove and walked towards the table. His back was towards you now, and you couldn't tell what he was doing. You heard a rustle of plastic. He came back with a piece of black cloth from it and walked behind you.

Suddenly, you saw darkness. You began to struggle as he tied the blindfold, but his grip was too strong.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I'm blindfolding you so I can take off this stupid helmet,” you heard him say, and then you heard a heavy thump on the floor next to you.

“You motivate me, you know?” you heard him breathe in your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. He masked his voice similar to the way Batman did- it was raspy and gravelly. That close, you could smell him. He smelled like sweat, and leather, and gunpowder.

“You make me want to kill more and more,” he nipped your earlobe, “I killed someone for you, you know that? Did I get a thanks? Of course not.”

“What the hell are you on about?” you snarled.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he continued, ignoring your question. He used a hand to grip your hair and pull your head to the side, exposing your neck so he could lick a strip on your pulse. He then started sucking on your skin. “I’ve always wanted to mark you like this.”

You felt hot. You were panting, and the worst part was that you could feel yourself dampening your underwear more than before.

His other hand ripped your shirt open, buttons popping all over the floor. He pushed your bra upwards and grabbed a fist full of your right breast, squeezing hard.

“Mmm,” he moaned, “Finally, I get to feel them. You usually wear too much armor.”

You felt dizzy, hazy, blurry. You were utterly consumed by his heat. You tried so hard not to get turned on, but your body betrayed you.

“Tell me, why do you wear lip gloss while on patrol?” he continued sucking on another spot while he started rolling your nipples in between his fingers, “It makes me wonder how your lips would look like around me.”

You whimpered, and cursed internally. Who knew dirty talk would be your downfall.

“I knew you'd like this,” he chuckled at your reaction, “But I feel like you need a reminder of how scary I can actually be.”

You didn't need one. You knew how terrifying Red Hood was. You felt that fear the first time you met him, and again when he pointed the gun at you in that alley behind the bank. It seemed so long ago.

But that fear had long turned into curiosity. You weren't afraid anymore.

“Black Mask couldn't beg,” he rasped, “Because he was suffocating. I wonder what I should do to you.”

His hand went from your tits to around your neck. And then, and then, you felt it. The panic you felt the first time he got his hand around your neck.

You started thrashing about, anything to prevent him from getting a proper grip on you. But unfortunately, you were tied down.

And he was standing behind you, strong hands around your neck.

“Remember this, baby girl?” he started squeezing, “Doesn't this feel nostalgic?”

He was pressing on your carotid arteries, making you even dizzier than you already were, but you could still gasp for breath.

“I still have a syringe of what I gave Black Mask to paralyse him, I wonder what I should do to you?” he then suddenly released you, making you cough and gag, tears streaming down your face.

“I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face,” you heard his voice move in front of you, “Maybe I should just keep you here to myself and use you. This job gets stressful. You'd be my own personal fuck toy. I'd ruin your cunt over and over again. You want that?”

Your mind began to race. Would he actually do that? No. No, even if he did, it didn't matter. Because Batman will-

“And then you will know how Batman really is,” he stressed, “You'll cling on to the hope that he's out there looking for you. That he won't give up on you. Batman would be the only thing keeping you sane.”

Yes, yes he was right. Bruce would find you.

“But you know what he’ll do instead?” he continued, voice shaking in evident anger, “He will just forget about you. Even after you're dead and he catches me, all he’ll do is lock me up behind bars. And then he’ll replace you with another child soldier to brainwash.”

No. Bruce wouldn't do that. He loved you. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't move on.

Would he?

Panic started to rise again, you felt yourself hyperventilating for the first time. What was wrong with you? You couldn't break down just after being kidnapped. Why would you feel this sense of impending doom?

No, it's just Red Hood getting to you. You were just giving him what he wants.

“That's more like the reaction I was looking for,” you heard him growl. You flinched when you felt his hand on your cheek. He was wiping away at your tears, and he was surprisingly gentle.

“There, there,” he sighed, “I’m not going to do that to you. I don't hurt innocents. Though you're far from it.”

You tried to calm yourself down. He was just looking for a reaction?

“I just want you to see Bruce for who he really is, baby girl,” he explained, still caressing your cheek. You found yourself leaning into his warmth, “And I want you to see me for who I really am, and what I've been doing for Gotham.”

Before you could even think of responding, you felt something spray on your face, and then everything faded to black.

***

The first thing you noticed was an annoying beeping sound.

And hushed whispers.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the grogginess. You were on a bed that wasn’t your own, in a room that was unfamiliar.

A hospital room. Private, high end. You tried to prop yourself up, suddenly-

“No, no, lie back down, honey,” an aging woman pushed you gently back into the pillows, where you laid back reclined. “I’ll go get the doctor and your father for you.”

Shortly after, in came Bruce, who rushed to you immediately.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay? What happened?” he bombarded you with questions and more than just his usual serious look on his face.

“I-”

“Mr. Wayne, please,” said a man in a white coat behind him, “She needs to recover first.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry,” Bruce stepped back and cleared his throat.

You were taken aback. You’ve never seen Bruce this way before.

The doctor flashed his penlight in both your eyes, and told you to follow it. He then performed a thorax auscultation on you.

“Hello, Miss Wayne. I’m Dr. Kevins. I’m going to have to check several things to make sure you’re doing well. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

“Do you feel dizzy?” he asked you, “Does your head hurt?”

“I feel a bit nauseated actually,” you croaked, “And thirsty.”

“We’ll get you some water just a sec,” he smiled kindly. He looked like he was around his late forties, with greying hair and sunken eyes. “The nausea is probably caused by the sedative he used on you. It’ll go away in an hour or so. But most importantly, do you feel any pain anywhere else?”

“No,” you shook your head, “My neck is a bit sore, but that’s it.”

The doctor pursed his lips, and then looked at Bruce, “Excuse me, Mr. Wayne, but would you please step outside for a moment?”

“Why?” he protested.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you voiced, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

“Okay then,” he sighed a breath of relief, “We did a physical on you while you were unconscious. It doesn’t look like anything’s wrong, except for a little dehydration. We just wanted to make sure.”

“Cool,” you shrugged, “Can someone tell me what happened?”

“We found you unconscious outside our emergency room on the floor,” the doctor responded, “We checked the security footage and saw a man in a red helmet walk in and left you there. He is a wanted criminal. The police are right outside to ask you a few questions. If you’re not ready for that, I’ll make them wait.”

“I’m fine, you can call them in,” you told him.

The doctor left to get the cops, and you and Bruce shared a long eye contact, silently communicating. I’ll tell you everything later, you tried to convey.

He gave you a stiff nod.

“Mr. Wayne, Miss Wayne,” Gordon himself came in through the door, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m hungover, Commissioner,” you smiled.

“I’m going to ignore that, since you’re underaged,” he chuckled, “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Shoot.”

He took out a pen and a small notebook from his trench coat.

“What was the last thing you remember before you blacked out?” he began.

“I was walking to the metro station,” you explained, “It was around two in the afternoon. I noticed someone following me, but didn’t think much of it. I remember turning into a secluded area, and then I heard him running towards me. Before I could turn around, I just… Went black. It happened so fast.”

“And this man, what did he look like?”

“He was big. Maybe around Bruce’s size, but I can’t be sure. I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a baseball cap and had a hoodie on,” you struggled to remember any other details about the man behind the mask.

“What happened next?”

“I woke up in a dark room, with this really bright light shining at me. I couldn’t see any windows, or doors. I was tied to a chair,” you pretended to tremble, “I was so scared.”

“I know, Miss Wayne,” Gordon comforted you, “I’m sorry for doing this, but I absolutely have to ask you to recall everything, before you forget. It’s essential to catch the man responsible for this.”

“I know,” you wiped away a single tear, “It’s okay. I saw a man in a red helmet. But not like a motorcycle helmet. It covered his whole face. And it had white eyes. It looked weird.”

“Did he have a red bat symbol on his chest?” Gordon pressed.

“Uhm,” you bit your lip, “I think so. I can’t- I can’t be too sure. It was dark, and the light blinded me.”

“That’s okay, you’re doing real good Miss Wayne,” Gordon smiled.

You held back a smile at how well Gordon treated you. If only he knew you were the same girl who witnessed Black Mask’s peeled face.

“I- I’m not sure what he wanted,” you stuttered, “He t-touched me. But not there!”

You had to reveal it. There was no hiding it from Bruce this time, thanks to the probable hickies on your neck.

“He… I think he didn’t know who I was,” you invented your lie, “But when I told him I was Bruce Wayne’s daughter, he immediately stopped whatever he was doing. Maybe he didn’t want to mess with Bruce, since he’s… rich and all.”

“There’s no doubt your father is rich, Miss Wayne, but I don’t think something like that would stop him,” Gordon huffed, his forehead scrunched up in a frown deeper than before, “This is interesting. Why would he be scared of you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Maybe he thinks I’m Batman,” Bruce simply shrugged.

You coughed out loud in shock.

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first person out there,” Gordon smirked, “No offense, Bruce, but you’re hardly the crime fighting type.”

“None taken, Jim,” Bruce grinned, “I can’t afford to get my face injured. It’s what gets investors after all.”

“What happened after that?” Gordon rolled his eyes at Bruce and turned back to you. “Did you hear any sounds? Maybe water, or vehicles? Was there anyone else there?”

“Th- that’s all I remember,” you scratched your head, “Next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Okay,” Gordon closed his notepad, “Thank you, Miss Wayne. I’m sorry that something like this happened to you. This one’s a bit tricky but I promise we’ll catch him.”

“I don’t doubt it, Commissioner,” you have him a big grin.

He paused for a moment, suddenly staring at you with an intense look in your eyes, as if he was searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” your smile faltered.

“No- nothing,” he shook his head, “You just- remind me of someone.”

“Your beautiful daughter perhaps?” you suggested.

“Y- yeah,” he nodded slowly, “Yeah, that’s it. You and Barbara both have the same smile.”

“What a compliment,” you giggled.

“You get well soon, Miss Wayne,” he nodded at you and at Bruce, “Mr. Wayne.”

“Commissioner,” Bruce nodded back.

Gordon left.

“That was close,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

Bruce pulled the sofa nearer to your bed.

“Are you really okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “Just tired.”

“I’ll let you rest. We’ll talk when we get back,” Bruce got up to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the press,” he fixed his hair and tie at the glass window, reflecting his handsome face, “Bruce Wayne’s daughter missing for 24 hours and then found on the emergency room floor? The media is going crazy.”

“I bet,” you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, drifting to sleep once more.

You thought you felt a pair of lips press themselves on your forehead.

*** “So. What really happened?” Bruce asked once you settled down in the manor.

You finally got discharged from the hospital after another day they kept you under observation. The both of you were now in the dining room, finishing up a light dinner.

You put down your cutlery and took a deep breath.

“How he got me was the truth, and I woke up in a dark room with a bright light shining in my eyes. First I acted like a civilian, crying and begging. I told him that my father was Bruce Wayne and that he would give him anything for my release,” you began your story, “But he told me to drop the act. I didn't. I acted dumb. And then he asked me how Nightwing was. How Dick Grayson, my older brother was. He told me he knew you were Batman. But what really hit the jackpot, was the fact that he knew Barbara was Oracle.”

Bruce leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table, his chin on top of his knuckles.

“So I decided to drop it,” you continued, “I figured if he knew that, he was more than just… One of those crazy conspiracy theorists. Anyway, I asked him what he wanted and he… He was just playing around.”

“Playing around?”

“Yeah, like he wasn't being serious about it. Like he kidnapped me just to mock me. He told me that… He missed me,” you avoided eye contact with Bruce, “He also said something about how we should appreciate what he does for Gotham. That he was technically one of us.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, exactly my thought,” you agreed, “He has this delusion that he's doing good, more good than we are. He mentioned Black Mask, and how he was a gift. Because now there's one less crime lord in the streets. I told him that he's not like us. We don't kill. And then- and then he got a bit emotional.”

“How so?”

“Well, the whole time he was relatively calm. But when we got to the topic of you,” you hesitated, “He seemed frustrated. He said it's the one thing you will never get. He said that you can't stop crime, and you can only control it. And that's what he was doing.”

“He thinks he is controlling crime?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“And what about… All that,” Bruce gestured to his own neck instead of yours.

You thought of how he touched you, how he had his hands underneath your panties and put his finger inside you. You decided to leave that out.

“He came up behind me and blindfolded me,” you started blushing, “He took off his helmet and-”

“He took off his helmet?” Bruce looked at you, the creases in between his eyebrows deepening, his shoulders suddenly tense.

“Yes, but I couldn't see anything,” you told him, “I was blindfolded.”

You noticed how Bruce relaxed his shoulders- very slightly.

“He said I motivated him,” you continued, “He masked his voice- like how you always do. I didn't recognise it.”

“Go on.”

“He said he killed for me,” you frowned, now remembering that odd statement he made, “I don't know what he meant by that. He never clarified. And then- he started to- do this.”

You waved at your neck, still avoiding eye contact.

“And then he started choking me,” you quickly went on, “He said he was considering keeping me there and… Tormenting me. And that the only thing that would keep me sane is the thought of you coming for me. But then he said that you wouldn't. That you would just… Replace me.”

You glanced at Bruce now, who was just silent, absorbing in everything you were saying. There was on odd expression in his eyes. Was it sadness?

“The last thing he said to me was that he wanted me to see you for who you really are, and see him for who he really is and what he's doing for Gotham.”

You waited for a response.

Finally, Bruce said “I see.”

Very anticlimactic.

“What do you see?” you prompted.

“It's even clearer now that he targeted you to get to me. He's trying to turn you against me,” Bruce spoke.

“I think I got that already,” you rolled your eyes, “But why? And what's this about replacing me?”

He remained silent, staring into space.

“Bruce,” you began, “We’ve been through this. You need to tell me things.”

“There's nothing to tell.”

“There's obviously something to tell,” you argued, “I just got kidnapped by him! Isn't it time for you to tell me who he is?”

“I don't know who he is,” he insisted.

“That's a big fat lie and you know it,” you accused.

“I'm lying for your own good!” he started to raise his voice.

“My own- my own good?” you scoffed, and then stood up, “Haven't you been paying attention, Bruce? I. Got. Kidnapped. By. Him. Obviously keeping me in the dark is not helping.”

“Back down,” Bruce rose from his seat as well to tower over you, “Now.”

“Don't you care about me Bruce?!” you yelled

“Of course I care! Which is why-”

“Don't give me that bullshit!” you fumed, “You keep on telling me to trust you-”

“I said back down, Robin-”

“But trust goes both wa-”

“BACK DOWN, JASON!”

You gaped at him, not believing your ears. You've always been insecure. You always thought that Bruce either adopted you out of guilt, or worse.

As a replacement.

It was the first time he ever mistakenly called you him.

The ghost of Jason Todd had caught up to you.

“I mean- I meant-” Bruce tried to correct himself, horrified at what he had just said.

You turned and left.

***

He was tired.

Jason was tired.

The rain made his bones ache.

The past few weeks had taken a toll on him. He went out almost every single night to do his job- be it kill a few people, extract information, deal with Moehler’s international contacts, and also deal with the people under him who has broken rules or planned to start a coup. They thought he didn't know. He’ll deal with them later.

He had gotten back from his money collecting run, taking the profits from the people beneath him. Through whispers and some interrogating, he found out about some insignificant rebels. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with those now.

He took a shower, and laid naked in bed, splayed on his back.

He probably should put on some clothes. It was getting cold.

Though, he was used to it.

There were so many times when he was a kid living in the streets that he had to deal with the cold without much insulation. Even when he had a roof over his head, it wasn’t like his parents paid for a heater.

Parents.

The reason why he became Robin was because his parents were bad. The reason why he died was because his biological mother betrayed him. And the reason why he was who he is now-

No. Bruce was never a father to him. He refused to admit it.

Bruce was just looking for a soldier to brainwash.

A soldier like you. He had brainwashed you pretty well. Jason wondered what words of encouragement Bruce had given to you, that he probably gave Jason as well, all those years ago.

When Jason saw you start to panic, he knew. He knew that you knew deep down, Jason was right. Which meant that Bruce probably had not changed since Jason died.

Did Bruce ever tell you “good job”? Did Bruce ever fuss over your injuries? Did Bruce ever gave you affection?

He doubted it.

After all, Jason knew Bruce. The only thing Bruce cared about was his past.

Justice.

Or so Bruce liked to call his own insecurities, an excuse to not move on from the traumatic childhood he faced.

Bruce was the fucked up one here, not Jason.

Jason was perfectly sane.

Not that he cared about how Bruce raised you. Not that he cared that you were probably facing the same problems he did, all those years ago. After all, Jason was just using you to get to him. He knew what he was doing was obvious, but it didn’t matter.

It only took one trigger- and you would spiral. As long as you had any doubt about Bruce, Jason’s plan would work.

“Fuck,” he said out loud. The rain outside was hitting hard like pellets on his metal roof.

Jason was tired.

He closed his eyes, and remembered how you looked when he started touching you. How your breath hitched, how your voice went high, how you let out the tiniest moan.

Jason smirked to himself.

You were probably craving him all those weeks you didn’t meet- it was part of his plan after all. And the moment he gave you all the attention you wanted, you got wet.

Withdraw, and then attack.

It was an excellent strategy. To get you to miss him so much that you welcomed his touch.

And welcome him you did.

Jason wasn’t blind. He saw how you looked at his hard on straining against his pants.

Remembering those scenes again made blood shoot to his cock. He remembered finally being able to feel your tits.

Fuck.

He reached down and fisted his cock- now hard and leaking. He gave himself a few light strokes, remembering how much he wanted to fuck you right then and there.

The glove.

He opened his eyes and walked towards his backpack, his erection slapping his lower belly with every step, and took out the ziplock he had put his glove in. He took it out, and collapsed on the bed again.

He was wearing the glove when he fingered you.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the glove.

The smell of leather was overpowering, but faintly, he smelled you. He kept it in a ziplock bag for a reason.

It was equivalent to panty sniffing, and Jason thought about how absolutely pathetic he was being- but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Because you always drove him insane anyway.

His cock was leaking on his stomach, and he stroked himself to the faint sweet tangy smell of your juices on his glove. Maybe he should have taken a taste instead.

Would that have driven you wild as much as it would him?

God, and your tits. It was so soft, so supple, and it was spilling in his hand. He just wanted to see it bounce. Why must you wear so much armor?

Jason was sweating now despite the cold, the sound of rain outside drowning his pants and moans.

He wouldn’t call it backfire, but Jason’s plan to not see you for so long also affected him more than he thought it would.

He stroked himself faster, and squeezed himself tighter, imagining your mouth drooling over the head of his cock.

Fuck. He told you your lip gloss made him think of that, didn’t he? And what did you do? You fucking whimpered.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. He loved how much you liked it when he talked dirty to you. He loved how you tightened around his finger.

Pleasure and heat built up and spread, making his toes curl. Finally, he came all over his fist, spilling onto his abdomen.

He huffed.

After cleaning up, he decided to text you. It was about time anyway.

Hey, Princess. I'm sorry I haven't texted you in so long. Life just got in the way, and I was facing some personal issues. I hope you're not mad. Anyway, I read about what happened in the papers. Putting the fact that you didn't tell me you were THE Wayne kid aside, are you okay? he sent the text.

He was hoping to prey on your kindness and understanding.

And he saw you typing back almost immediately.

Hey, Jason. Don't worry, I'm not mad. I completely understand. I've had times like that too. And I'm okay, a bit shaken up, but still okay. Also, you didn't tell me your last name so why would I tell you yours? you replied with a winky face at the end.

Touché. Would you be up to meeting me at Robinson Park tomorrow? I'll get you ice cream. It’s the least I could do, he asked.

That would be great! I’ll see you around three? you texted back.

It’s a date, doll, Jason sent with another winky face.

He knew that one text would make you giddy with excitement.

*** Jason was self-conscious in public.

Whenever he walked in the daylight without his helmet on, he felt like everyone was staring at him, judging him. His scars, his scowl, his crooked nose that had been broken and reset again so many times.

So he usually kept his head down, and his calloused hands in his pockets, avoiding the glares he knew deep down was just part of his imagination.

Until he saw you waiting at the park bench wearing a white sundress, the slight breeze blowing your hair, the sunlight shining on your skin.

He straightened up, confidence returning, and even before you saw him, he smiled.

It wasn’t like you made him happy, it wasn’t like he was looking forward to seeing you. Nor was it because you made him feel like the Jason Todd who never died.

No, he was just getting into character in advance.

A character to fool you, manipulate you, corrupt you.

“So, do you come here often?” he said when he crept up to you, making you jump.

“You scared me!” you laughed, slapping him on the arm lightly. And then, your smile faded ever so slightly, and a slight crease between your brows formed, “Not many people can sneak up on me like that.”

“My friends always did say I was light on my feet,” he shrugged, sitting down on the bench next to you, “Could be useful in the force, actually.”

“Definitely,” you grinned.

He noticed the bruises he left on your neck were absent- probably hidden by layers of makeup. He was slightly disappointed. His hickies on your skin would have looked amazing as a contrast to the low cut sundress you were wearing.

“So how are you?” he asked, “Wayne?”

You rolled your eyes, “Like I said, you didn’t offer me your last name, too. Plus, my picture’s everywhere.”

“I don’t really keep up with the news, sweetheart,” Jason replied, “Why would I care about other people’s adopted daughters?”

“I guess that’s true,” you conceded, “You’re one in a million, then. Everyone’s obsessed with that kind of information these days.”

“So enlighten me then,” Jason said, “How did Bruce Wayne come to adopt you?”

“Well,” you started, “My parents have always been trying to get close to him. They invited him for those fancy galas and charity dinners. I remember always seeing him around. When they died, and I was left with nothing and no one, he decided to adopt me.”

“Any particular reason he chose to adopt you?” Jason prompted.

You bit your lip. And then, Jason noticed that your eyes started tearing up.

“Oh, no,” Jason responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

What was up with you?

“No, no,” you sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so stupid. I’ve just… been wondering about that too.”

Finally, Jason thought. He thought you would never have figured out you were always meant to be his replacement. He wondered what happened between you and Bruce. He had no doubt that the kidnapping triggered it.

Just as he planned.

“Hey, look at me,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your head to face him.

Fuck.

It was the wrong move. Because seeing you teary eyed, red nosed, lower lip trembling, so close to him. So vulnerable.

It made his cock twitch.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Jason tried to pull himself together, “Or if you just want a shoulder to cry on, I’ll gladly offer you mine.”

With his thumb, he wiped away a tear that fell on your cheeks. He could see how your long lashes clumped together in the wetness, how your skin was slightly flushed.

He wanted to kiss you and tell you everything was going to be okay.

The thought shocked Jason. So much so that he jolted away from you.

“I- I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I probably crossed a line, or something.”

He looked away, not wanting you to see the panic that was rising. No, no, not here. Not now.

“It’s okay,” he heard your voice, but it seemed so far away, “Jason?”

He tried to calm his breathing. He fisted the material of his jeans and took deep breaths. 5 things that he could see.

The green grass. The blue sky. Someone’s red frisbee flying. Little yellow flowers. Kids running around.

4 things that he could touch.

His denim. The wooden bench. The gravel beneath his feet. Your warm hands.

3 things that he could hear.

A dog barking. The bells from the ice cream man. Your voice calling him out, getting nearer.

2 things he could smell.

His own cologne. And your shampoo.

1 thing he could taste.

He turned to face you and crashed his lips against yours, surprising you. But Jason felt you relax against him, and kissed him back.

Your lip gloss was strawberry flavoured.

Jason broke the kiss, and blushed at you, “I’m sorry. I never know how to act when I’m with you.”

He saw you take the bait. Your wide, curious eyes fluttered downwards in embarrassment.

“That’s okay,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, “I feel the same way.”

“I promised you ice cream didn’t I?” he stood up, and offered you his hand, “Shall we?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #batman #dc #bruce wayne #batfamily #dceu #dc universe

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