#the way i am literally seething biting my hand and lips to try and not let the end escalate

[earthtooz]

in which: alhaitham resorts to lying on top of you in order to get you speaking to him again.

quick alhaitham thought i needed to get off my mind, making out at the end lol, potentially ooc

there were a lot of things you didn’t expect when entering a relationship with alhaitham. you didn't expect him to have kaveh as a roommate, you didn’t expect him to overthrow the government, and you didn’t expect him to resort to pettiness in order to end the silent treatment you were giving him.

it’s suffocating beneath him, squished into his soft mattress with his body weight, muscles wrapped around you like a python whilst one arm is extended outwards, balancing a book. you wonder if he’s actually reading it, but you can tell he’s enjoying himself regardless, evident through the way he often turns his head to place a kiss on your exposed collarbone, burying his face into your warmth from here to there. 

for the umpteenth time, you grunt, losing your mind just a little. his body warmth was getting too much, and you’ve been lying here for who knows how long, just staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

you want to protest, berate him for flattening you before shoving him off, but that would mean surrendering, and this time, you want alhaitham to be the one to give up first. 

as if hearing your thoughts, your grey-haired lover then glances up at you, sleepy gaze filtered through messy strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. you almost cave at the domesticity of it all, only just stopping yourself from brushing his bangs away. 

“still upset?” he murmurs, putting his book face-down to wrap his arms tighter around your torso. “fine. have it your way, i’m going to nap.”

“no-” he perks up at the sound of your voice, raising an eyebrow as a mask of smugness gleams over his face. you shut your mouth immediately, cursing at yourself to slip up so easily, but you really needed to stretch out your legs and the other discomforts of lying like an unmoving plank beneath alhaitham. 

“what was that?” challenges your boyfriend. you don’t answer him, merely staring him down as he sits back, grabbing your wrists. “oh come on, i know you want to say something, out with it.” 

shaking your head, he scoffs at your stubbornness as if his isn’t just as frustrating, and gently caresses your hand. his touch is tantalising, urging you to give in, and paired with that lidded look of his, it’s practically impossible not to.

not many people get to see alhaitham like this, you realise. most know him as an indifferent, closed off, and unapproachable scribe, turned grand sage, turned scribe, yet you get the honour of seeing him as this. “talk to me already,” he demands gently, not letting his grip waver even as you keep trying to pull your hands away, only slipping away so far before he’s holding you again.

there aren’t many battles you can win against him, you know that, and one of them was a battle of strength. as he holds your wrists tight to your sides, his face so close to yours, you feel his earlier playfulness melting into something sincere. 

“are you still mad?” asks alhaitham, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as a pout appears along his lips. the response you give him is a petulant turn of your head. he sighs through his nose. “i’m sorry, okay? i was out of line, i should have listened to you, alright?”

his tone is uncharacteristically kind and warm, warm enough for you to give in to his pleas.

“you mean it?” you tease, grinning widely at him. in the blink of an eye, the tension from alhaitham’s shoulder seeps away like sand, and he sighs with relief before agreeing, a solid ‘yes’ slipping through his mouth. “then i accept your apology.”

“you minx, enjoying the sight of me like this, aren't you-” he murmurs, and you swallow his brewing snide remarks with a kiss, closing the gap by firmly pressing your lips against his. alhaitham is not surprised by your sudden affection. rather, he welcomes it, melts into you wholly as a hand holds the back of your neck to keep you against him. you're warm and precious and everything he could ever desire, so he can't help but let his hands wander, searching for more.

as your mouths slot together, there’s a delicate exchange of apologies that words cannot express; ironic, since alhaitham knows of several ways to apologise in a multitude of languages. nevertheless, he thinks that this is the best method.

with the way you move in sync with him, he can tell that this is your favourite too. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[beenbaanbuun]

Not sure if this is a request or me just going insane after reading your dumbification yeo fic but oop-

Been thinking about jealous Yeosang nonstop since then because I always get a little disappointed when fics paint him as this super passive, open lover. I mean it's all well and good to be someone who's genuinely okay with their partner having multiple partners/being kinda flirty, but I honestly don't see him as the type to be that chill

I mean sure he wouldn't exactly be as loud or aggressive about it as sayyy.... Joong or Sannie, I am a switch!Yeosang enthusiast after all, but I still think he'd get upset if he saw you being too chummy with one of your guy friends or one of the other members.

Early on in the relationship it would probably be all cute, he gets pouty and quiet, maybe clingy after and he needs lots of affirmation and assurance before he feels secure again.

But once he's comfortable with you? C'mon, you CANNOT tell me he's not the type to pin you against the door as soon as you get home, hands and lips desperately latching on to you as you clutch at his hair, deep voice muffled by your skin as he seethes over That Guy who kept hitting on you or how Wooyoung was a little too touchy for his peace of mind (woo totally did it on purpose btw).

And oh my god if those angry growls turn desperate? If you're not responding verbally cuz you're just so overwhelmed by everything that's Yeo?? And he suddenly whines into your neck and nuzzles your pulse point seeking verbal affirmation??? And you grip his hair and he whimpers when you tug so he has to look you in the eye?????

I need to calm tf down before I drop a whole 1.5k word smut fic in your ask box but you get the idea XDD

Jealous yeo lives rent free in my brain and you're writing has him running LAPS TwT we as a fandom have failed to have enough yeosang smut on the market and it Saddens Me

~Lyra

i am CLINICALLY INSANE!!!!!!!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME 😭😭😭

like i’m sorry but i can imagine him just pinning you to the door, fully clothed, and grinding up against you. his mouth is just on your neck, sucking, biting, kissing at your flesh until its mottled with purple bruises. like there’s literally no rhyme or reason, he’s just that desperate to his his mouth on you and mark you up that he barely gives you a minute to think straight.

like you’re still both fully dressed and your back is still presses uncomfortable against the door, but that doesn’t stop yeosang from bucking his hips up into yours, dry humping you because he doesn’t have the patience with you right now. he needs you to know that you’re his and his alone.

“can’t fucking believe you,” he growls before biting down on the soft flesh. you keen at the sensation, legs going weak. you’re glad he has you pinned to the door; if he didn’t, you might fall, “all over that guy as if you don’t have a perfectly good boyfriend who takes care of you. what? did you just want my attention? because now you have it.”

you whimper as he grinds down hard against your pelvis, his clothed hard-on rubbing so deliciously against your folds. you want him in you, but with everything that’s going on, you can barely think, let alone talk.

“s-sangie-” you choke out, trying to tell him how bad you need him, but you’re cut off by the whine that claws it’s way up your throat.

“what?” he grunts into your neck, “you want to tell me something?”

you nod, but no words come out. yeosang chuckles darkly into your neck.

“go on then, baby,” his teeth graze against you, threatening to add to the purple bruises that run up and down your skin, “if you’re going to tell me anything, tell me how bad you need me.”

you know it’s an ego thing. of course it is; yeosang was obviously hurt when he saw you flirting with the other man, and now it’s your job to repair that. and you would, if you could hold a thought for more than two seconds. you’d love nothing more than to stroke his ego, make him feel all big and powerful and like he’s the only man in the world.

but you just can’t. every time you open your mouth, you lose your train of thought and all that comes out is a few pants as yeosang tears your mind down to nothing. you cant even focus when he pulls back a little, studying your face with glassy eyes before diving right back into your neck. he doesn’t suck, or bite, or kiss this time. he just nuzzles the sticky skin with his nose, mumbling almost incoherent words against it.

“baby,” he says after a moment or two, voice a little breathier than before, “baby, please tell me me how much you need me. need to hear it.”

his tongue darts out and he begins to lap one of the bite marks, as if trying to soothe it. it only makes your mind race more.

as do the continuous whimpers that you can hear spilling into the air, only this time they’re not from you. they’re from yeosang.

yeosang who is still grinding into you, albeit with sloppier, softer motions than before. who is still pinning you to the wall, only with a more desperate grip, as if you’ll slip away if he lets go. who still has his face pressed against your neck, words slipping from his mouth, but now they beg rather than degrade.

“baby, please,” he whispers, and you feel something wet fall against your neck; a tear, “i need you tell tell me you need me.”

he sounds so pathetic, crying into your neck like that, and it soon sinks in that the tables have turned without you even really realising. the man that had pinned you to the door minutes prior, wanting nothing more than to teach you a lesson, had vanished. he’s been replaced by your baby boy, who was so desperate to hear how much you wanted him. so desperate to know that you loved him as much as he loved you.

you try your hardest to gather your thoughts, just enough for you to be able to scrape together a sentence or so. but with yeosang bucking against you like a dog in heat, its so incredibly hard. add that to the fact that he’s gone back to suckling at your neck like its going to bring him some sort of comfort and there’s no way you were getting a coherent sentence out.

so you lace you fingers into his hair, grateful of how long it had gotten, and tug. he lets out a long whimper, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you tug his far enough back to see his face. you tug again, wordlessly pleading for him to look at you. just once would be enough for him to see how thoroughly mindless he has you already. just once for him to understand that he is all you can think about right now.

[insertsickusername13]

You get no summary as to what this is about. It's around 2k words, but it only took me like 30 minutes to write so. it's. it's a bit confusing. but it's cute and happy!!!

 “I don’t even know where to start,” Chloe whined, slamming her forehead against the library table. Jake winced involuntarily at the noise, but Chloe didn’t even seem to notice what she’d done. “She’s just so pretty, Jake. Have you seen her? Those eyes—”

 “Yes,” Jake replied, an odd mix between bemused and annoyed. He had homework he was happy to ignore just to listen to Chloe’s excessive rantings on her most recent crush (there’d been three this week—she was struggling with the whole ‘not being in love with Brooke anymore’ thing), but it was still homework that he’d have to do later if he didn’t finish it now. “We get it, she’s hot and you want to fuck her, but did I factor this right?”

 She barely glanced over his paper before giving him a half-hearted thumbs up and continuing on with, “I just want to be able to talk to her, you know? Be confident and tell her she’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

 “Then do that,” Rich seethed. He was even more impatient than Jake, sitting red-faced with his arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at his computer with a familiar fiery gaze Jake was accustomed to being on the receiving end of. Jake’s heart did a flip.

 “Shut up. You never confess to your crushes," Chloe shot back.

 “Because I’m busy writing reports for my stupid research class, and I’d prefer if I could do it in silence.”

 Jake leaned forward on his elbows and propped his chin on the heel of his hand, just close enough so he could feel the edges of Rich and Chloe’s argument like electricity in the air. They were both pissy today—Chloe because she was upset about her crush, and Rich because he had a three thousand word report due that night that he’d totally forgotten about until two days ago. Though Jake would usually have little patience when it came to Rich’s moods (uncommon now that he was unsquipped—most of the time it was either dorky ramblings or hesitant dad jokes), he was well enough adapted to Rich’s behaviors to know that hadn’t meant to put it off, really, it was just a thing that happened sometimes. He knew Rich had seen it in the color-coded agenda Jake had made for him, it simply didn’t register that it was real. Rich spent the past two days busting his ass off and Jake understood why he wanted silence so he could get it over with.

 “No,” Chloe shot back, “You’re a coward. And I am too. I’m usually so confident, this genuinely hurts. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

 Rich tilted his head back to cast a glance up at the sky, probably a prayer of some sort, before he closed his computer and turned to Chloe, expression cold. Jake watched his every movement.

 “Five minutes,” Rich spat, “Five minutes, and then you shut up for the rest of the period and let me work. Deal?”

 Chloe stuck out her hand and shook his. Rich set a timer on his phone and immediately Chloe was off. The color of this girl’s eyes (Jake wasn’t sure of her name, he’d been too busy watching Rich bite his lip while he focused to catch it), her hair, the way she made her feel.

 “I can’t even think when I'm around her," Chloe sighed, borderline wistful, “My stomach gets in knots and everything gets fuzzy and warm. It’s like I’m melting inside, and not in a horny way. I want to take her away to some perfect place where she can never get hurt and teach her how to paint and feed her cherries. How am I supposed to talk to her when my brain is literal mush whenever she gets too close?!"

 Rich laughed for the first time all day. Jake frowned.

 “I don’t get it,” Jake said slowly, trying to decode Chloe’s words even as he was speaking, “Aren’t you doing that now?”

 Chloe and Rich immediately turned to him, surprised by not only his sudden contribution to their previously exclusive conversation but also by his hesitance. Jake wasn’t hesitant. Jake always knew what he was talking about.

 Even now, he was sure of himself. He knew Chloe was talking through that feeling now—Rich was sitting right next to her, and Rich was practically the embodiment of that feeling. He walked into the room and overwhelmed everyone with a giddy, sunshine feeling that made their vision blur and their heart beat too fast. It was a Rich thing, he brought it everywhere he went. Even when he walked in with a too-big sweatpants and oily hair after weeks of either studying or laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and convincing himself he was worth more than the persona he used to present, Rich ignited butterflies in everyone he met. Every single day.

 Chloe didn’t make the connection to the Rich Effect (as Jake had dubbed it), though. She shot to her feet, eyes wide and panicked.

 “She’s here?!!?” she whisper-yelled, spinning in circles and scanning the library for her mystery crush, “Where?! Why didn’t you tell me—”

 “What? No, calm down, I was talking about Rich.”

 If Jake’s earlier statement had confused them, this broke them. Chloe sat down, her back rigid and eyes narrowed. Rich simply tilted his head slightly to the right, an innocent show of curiosity. Even that was enough to make the room flush pink, and somehow Chloe seemed perfectly fine talking through that, he didn’t see why this new girl was any different.

 “Rich?” she echoed, “I don’t have a crush on Rich? It’s fine to talk around him?”

 “Yeah, obviously. But he’s got the whole Rich thing, y’know?”

 They did, indeed, not know. Jake looked between the two of them, searching for any flash of recognition, but he was met with empty stares and questioning looks. Rich made a small, confused sound.

 “Like, Rich-walks-in-a-room-and-everything-lights-up? That thing? The butterflies? C’mon, you have to know what I’m talking about, he’s been doing it since the fire.”

 Jake’s nerves somehow coalesced into an awkward, stunted laugh made just to fill the silence that followed his observation. Rich seemed weirdly flustered, as if he’d somehow been unaware that every single person he met was enthralled by the sound of his lisp or the way he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves whenever he got nervous. This was normal—Jake knew it was normal. Everyone felt that, everyone knew it, it was just such a fact of life it remained unspoken amongst the masses.

 “…no,” Chloe said as if she was explaining some foreign concept to a toddler, “Most people do not get butterflies at the sight of Rich. No offense.”

 Rich shook his head as he muttered ‘none taken.’ He was studying Jake with the same lost expression Chloe was, lips parted, and it was only when Rich’s cheeks flushed a cute pink that Jake realized maybe he’d fucked up.

 Rich clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Even worse, Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. Not only was Rich not purposefully torturing the entire population with his inexplicable ability to turn everything into gold whenever he smiled, but apparently his accidental magic only affected Jake.

 A phenomenon most would describe as a crush.

 Jake did not have a crush. He was straight, Rich was his best friend, and he’d never risk ruining that. But Chloe was slowly coming to the same realization he had and he watched the exclamation form on her lips before he had the chance to stop her.

 “You like him?!”

 Jake didn’t have time to form a defense before Rich was falling out of his chair, face red and eyes bulging. He popped back up almost immediately and screeched, “WHAT?!”

 “No!!! Stop! I don’t! Slow down! It’s normal, okay?! Stop looking at me like that, Jesus. I’m not—I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?! It’s clearly not the same. Just—the normal amount, you know? Don’t you give everyone butterflies? C’mon, it can’t just be me.”

 Maybe it was just him, come to think of it. He didn’t remember many other people getting tongue-tied around Rich, or blushing simply when he entered the room. The only reason Jake could keep his cool around Rich was because he’d spent months adapting to this constant glow-y feeling. The first few weeks after meeting post-fire Rich, Jake had practiced talking in the mirror just to make sure he hadn’t had a stroke in his sleep and lost the ability to speak or something. Other people… didn’t seem to have that reaction. They didn’t act like Rich was made of pure sunshine, or his voice a melody, his eyes entrancing, his lips—

 Jake searched Rich’s face for an answer, eyes darting from place to place helplessly. From his eyes to his eyebrows to his cheeks to his freckles to his hair. He was met with curiosity and excitement and tension—something that terrified him more than anything.

 He didn’t think Rich would say no, not when he was looking at Jake like this. Like he was afraid to be happy, unbelieving that things could possibly go the way he wanted them to. Jake could ask Rich to kiss him right now and… and he might get that. He might like that.

 “The normal amount,” Jake repeated, his voice trembling. Too fast. He was straight ten minutes ago, this was way too fucking fast.

 “The normal amount is no amount, Jacob,” Chloe said. Unlike Rich, she didn’t sound afraid to be happy. She looked excited. She was finally free from Jake’s lingering attraction. She could go off and date this new girl without wondering if her ex-boyfriend would be okay with it. Because he had a crush on his best friend. Apparently. Fuck. No—

 “Okay?! Then I don’t feel it any amount! It’s only sometimes—well, most of the time—but there’s no way—how can you look at him and not—?”

 Chloe had the audacity to laugh at him, elated and unbridled. That, of all things, should’ve had Jake’s heart melting into his lungs.

 But instead, it was Rich’s small, “Jake…?” that made the sky turn pink.

 “Don’t. I don’t like you, okay? I don’t. It’s—”

 Jake would kiss him if Rich asked him to. But, because this was post-fire Rich instead of pre-fire Rich, Rich didn’t say a word, didn't lean forward and offer Jake the sweet relief of letting all this built-up excitement out into a kiss. Rich sat back down, mouth clamped shut and eyes trained carefully on the table in front of him.

 “Okay,” he murmured, his face flushed, “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Go out to dinner with me.”

 Rich refused to look up. Still staring at the table, he whispered, “What?”

 “I don’t know?! Apparently, not everyone thinks you’re the most beautiful person to walk the planet?! And I mean, if I get to keep you all to myself, then fuck me if I don't. So. Dinner. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m not a fucking coward. I’ll go for it. You’re pretty, you make everything warm and happy, and I think I really fucking like that feeling, so.”

 “You’re straight.”

 “Maybe not?” Jake offered, his voice small and on the verge of cracking.

 Rich’s hands clenched the edge of the table. Jake, disoriented and desperate, reached out and threaded their fingers together just to loosen his grip.

 “Please?” he whispered, “I think—I think I really like you.”

 “Okay,” Rich replied.

 “No, I’m serious. I—”

 “I know you are. But I’m sure I like you. A lot. Why don’t you go fuck around a little and experiment a bit before you decide to go and break my heart?”

 “Oh, shit,” Chloe said. Jake shooed her off with his free hand, not even bothering to look at her. His full attention was on Rich and his trembling hands.

 “I don’t wanna experiment. I want to go out to dinner with you.”

 Rich shrugged. Jake made a small sound of frustration.

 “C’mon, you can’t—I like you! I have all the feelings people get when they like someone. Hell, I probably have more, considering I literally cannot see anyone else whenever you so much as brush up against me. I was raised to be fucking president of Model UN and the archery team, Rich. My brain never managed to compute that liking guys—liking you—could even be an option. But it is an option, and I like you, and now that I know it I don’t think I will physically be able to handle being in the same room and not kissing you. Dinner. Please. One date. Then you can decide I’m a slut who just wants to experiment.”

 Rich squeezed Jake’s hand, tight and unwavering. When he looked up, all Jake could think about was how grateful he was Rich hadn’t done it earlier. He already knew he was fucked—just from Chloe’s confusion, from Rich’s embarrassment—but damn. Damn. Jake wished he was more poetic. He’d trained himself to write succinct essays and informative contentions, not stanzas about the exact shade of gold the perfect mix between green and brown could make.

 “One date.”

 “And when I prove you wrong, we can go out on another.”

 Rich let out an awkward laugh that sounded somewhere between pained and excited.

 “Sure,” he said, “Then we can go on another.”

[myllovellybones]

He mistakes you.

LMAOO SHE BOUTA DO SOMETHING

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

Lmao he just like Daemon matter of fact that's Daemon right there but in dragon

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

Oh lord his blood pressure is probably so high right now

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

Dragons are definitely just sky-cats

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

OMG CAN HE SENSE THE BABY INSIDE HER?! LIKE HE REALIZES DAEMONS CHILD IS LITERALLY IN HER THATS WHY HE'S LISTENING TO HER AND BEING GENTLE??

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

Omg shut the fuck up Arryk 😭?!

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

It actually has everything to do with him

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

GET AWAY FROM HER ALICENT SWEETHEART GET BEHIND ME

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Otto hightower I can't make up my mind about you.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

I genuinely want to see how he reacts when he comes back three years later to his kid

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Yeah he definitely smelled you

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

BECAUSE SHE'S PREGNANT YOU FOOL

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Biggest lie in the century

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

🙂.

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

Caraxes being in tune with her emotions cause she's pregnant with Daemon's child is actually so important to me

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes does NOT want to leave

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

they've done had so many heart attacks in a single day

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

MY GIRL?!😭

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

STOP PLEASE MY HEART. I CAN'T TAKE IT.

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[beann-e]

“ honestly Suna sometimes it feels like your just sitting there — calculating — thinking of ways that you can piss me off” you let out in a huff of anger as you slammed your hand onto the arm rest placed in the middle of the car. Voice loud enough to be heard from a mile away and then some “ And then you don’t even fucking care “

“ I’m sorry you feel that way “

“ seriously ? seriously Suna “

“ oh I’m sorry would you like me to say it jokingly? “

The silence that towered over the both of you was tall and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon “ WELL WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY “ his hand came up to run down his face as he sighed

“ look I'm sorry baby but — “

“ but nothing — I'm tired Rin—I'm tired of you screwing with me“ you groaned “ honestly at this point just fuck off “

he moved to pull the keys from the car unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door as your jaw hung open “ what the fuck Suna — “

“ I'm fucking off you ungrateful bit—“

“ you asshole — all of a sudden you take everything literal right ?? huh only when you want to right “

“ y’know what— no you fuck off —ok y/n “

“ see that’s what I'm talking about “

“ honestly I doubt you even know what you were talking about in the first place “

your steps quickened as you followed after the male who stopped at your front door imputing the code and opening your house door “ This is what I mean by you keep fucking with me Suna “

“ oh “ he moved to sit down on the couch arms flung behind it and legs spread wide out in front of him. “ is it really— because , the 40 minute argument in the car about your best friend hitting on me didn’t quite make that clear “ he scoffed shaking his head along with it “ your shitty reasoning must of gotten lost on one of the many streets of Japan y/n “

His eyes glowing body perking up with his next sentence “ yknow what how about you go find it hmm then we can have this little talk sometime later -- preferably when I'm sleeping id hate to be awake for another one of your hellish complaints babe.”

your anger was only growing as the argument continued “ you fucking douchebag I bet you don’t even know why I'm pissed off “

He let out a small sigh of a laugh his legs shaking and hitting each other in a wave before they resumed their earlier position “ I don’t“

“ and you don’t care either do you “

“ I don’t “

Your heart broke for the first time ever in your relationship with the stoic male after hearing his words and tone. In all the time you and your boyfriend had been together you two never argued about his lack of emotion or care.

It never bothered you

It never affected you

until it did

4 hours ago

You smiled up at the taller male as his mouth continued to run while talking to the rest of his volleyball team. This was the first time you’d ever seen him talk for more than 5 minutes with anything other then yeah’s and small mhmms.

The both of you had been invited to a class reunion and you only decided to go because of his new teams constant nagging

Suna had been telling you all week to find something else to do and that you didn’t have to go with him. That it would be too boring and long and that you would be better off having fun without him.

Of course you put up a fight but, ultimately lost and decided to hang out by yourself for the earlier half of the day spending last weeks paycheck on this weeks shopping spree

it felt nice to treat yourself but you couldn’t help but want to treat your boyfriend too. The thought of him being bored alone plagued your mind and you had to get it out.

The only way to do that was to go to the reunion.

Now how you imagined it would go is you show up in your fancy new dress surprising him smile a bit , talk up some of the host and sneak your way in and then mingle and go home and cuddle and kiss your boyfriend all night

funny thing is somewhere in that prewritten script you had created you didn’t realize imagination is not always reality.

The sight of your boyfriend leaning against a wall with a glass in his hand and his other on the string of your best friends dress had you reeling in the disgust that you wanted to spill so badly on the floor right now

All you’d done was go to the restroom but now you sat with your eyes widening while you watched his eyebrows come together in annoyance with the string that wouldn’t come undone.

Your best friend faced away from him back to his chest and a small smile on her face. Cheeks heated from his touch and in that moment you cursed her for having a look on her face that made it visible how much she enjoyed his warmth. You wished she didn’t make it so obvious how the closeness to your boyfriend was making her feel

how it was encouraging her

Your heart broke when you seen Suna finally relax and blow air out of his cheeks before nodding softly almost thanking the gods that he figured it out and it was over

Your feet moving before you could even process what to say to either of them.

“ y-y/—“

your hand came in contact with your best friends face before she could even finish the loud slap echoing through the room as everyone turned to find the source of the noise

Eyebrows raising when they noticed it was not only a slap but a full on one sided battle between you and the girl who everyone seen as nice and quiet during your school years

They never knew of the undercover bitch that was lurking behind the surface. They’d never see the way she was smirking as she took every hit given to her in stride. Your boyfriends hands wrapping around your torso as he looked down and seen that you were hovering over her ripping her to bits

You never letting go of the grip your thighs held around her own as she whispered to where only you could hear “ aw poor y/n’s defending someone that doesn’t even want em—gonna go to jail for someone so unloyal huh “

Your eyes lit up with pure hatred as the security made their way over to you reaching to take you from Sunas hold and lessening your grip on the woman beneath you

“ sir we need you to let her go “

“ don’t touch me until you actually make it all the way to police academy you fucking lowlife. “ you spit out “ how the hell do you only make it to security much less high school reunion security “

“ the hell do you know — you don’t even know how hard police academy is asshole “

“ ah I bet your kids’ll be real proud “ your eyes squinted at his name tag “ todd — you kiss your wife with that mouth “

you laughed eyes rolling from him to suna “ or are you like this asshole and kiss your mistress with it instead ? huh toodles ? “

“ ha — ‘m gonna have fun with you--ya little prick. sir — let ‘em go or else i’ll pull out the big guns — they snuck in here and now their disrespecting an officer “

“ big guns “ your laugh circulated through the room “ ‘k sure let me stop before I get pepper sprayed “

“ my hands already on the trigger you lil bitc— “

“ hey “ sunas voice growled behind you “ watch who the fuck your talking to toodles“

“ just— get—get the fuck off dude I didn’t go to police academy so I could avoid this — their full on disrespecting me come on man get off“ your face scrunched up in annoyance as you saw the security look like they were about to cry

“ well I mean — “ he sighed “ it’s not like your a real officer right“ suna sighed out as he began to bite his lip in worry “ I mean we can let this slide right ? “ he nodded looking towards the males name badge “ uh toodles“

He coughed “ todd — I mean todd “

“ I’m sorry but, even if I could “ his gaze dead set on you “ which I really don’t want to — seeing as though they disrespected me “

His voice sounding proud as he continued “ and I'll have you know I'm security guard of the mouth asshole “

“ oh whoop dee fucking do Tinkerbelle ”

“ y-fucking-/n “ you could feel the way Suna was seething above you breath hot and you could tell his face was made up in a snarl “ if you don't shut the fuck up I swear on Atsumu’s unwashed boxers ill leave your ass prison letters starting tonight “

“ see —— sir I'm trying “ he sighed “ I really am trying to let this go but — “

“ their with me — “

“sure “ he scoffed “ I'll need to see some relations or — “

“ their my s/—their my plus one “ his eyes moved to look at everyone surrounding you guys then back to the position he now held you in before finally dropping you to the floor. Your heart dropping and ears tuning everything out from that point on.

Everything on mute until you got in the car and were finally met with his low voice as he buckled you in and walked to his side turning the car on “ y/n “

You turned to look out the window “ y/n that — “

His voice was so hard but so weak “ y/n that was so fucking embarrassing “ Your body shivered at his words

“ having to watch my fucking s/o almost get fucking arrested “

His hands tightened their grip on the wheel “ then turning around and having to talk you out of it in front of our whole graduating class “

his voice went deadpanned as he swerved a bit on the road mixing lanes “ and — and my team — oh fuck my team “

he started to breathe a bit heavier as you began to feel bad hearing the sadness in his voice. His body shifting in his seat “ all so you could “

he laughed a bit at the situation “ all so you could take your ugly ass insecurities out on your friend ? “

he scoffed looking from you to the road and back to you “ when did you two even stop being friends huh ? did I miss that or ?? do friends just go out and leave bruises on each other or is that something new? What-- is it like a new TikTok trend -- a fashion statement huh ?? the fuck is it because, I'm not a friend person so maybe you know something I don’t “

He scoffed “ maybe — maybe I'll never be a friend person after something like that. If friends are just beating each other’s asses in broad day light out the fucking blue then I'll just stick with ‘tsumu at least I know I can beat his ass if he were to pull some shit like that “

‘ friend ‘ you thought silently

“ poor kid didn’t even see it coming “ he shook his head at you turning back to the road “ holy hell that’s shameful y/n “

he whispered “ I don’t even wanna think about the rumors that’ll spread about us tomorrow “

The car was quiet only for a minute as Suna re arranged his thoughts before he could beat into you again “ friend Suna ? “

your voice was dry “ Rin do friends help each other out of their clothes ? “

your eyebrows creased “ do they focus so intently on another woman while their own is in the same room “

“ I didn’t know you were there “

“ SO YOU ONLY TAKE FRIENDS CLOTHES OFF WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ NO I “

“ YOU ONLY TOUCH OTHER WOMEN WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ y/n jus— “ he took a deep breathe and let it out “ just shut up its not like that “ he let out an uncomfortable and tired scoff of a laugh “ it wasn't like that “

“ it’s always shut up Suna it’s never ‘ what’s wrong y/n ‘ ‘ are you ok y/n ‘ it’s just ‘ shut up I don’t wanna talk so you don’t wanna talk either ‘ “

you locked eyes with the male in front of you “ I'm done Rin I'm— I'm done “

“ you cant leave me-- heh not after that shit you pulled back there  “ 

“ fuck if I cant--you don't look like my legs to me and as far as I know their still Bluetooth connected to my mind so-- “

“ you'll be an overnight clown you-you need me y/n “ he shook his head “ we need each other “ 

“ no you need volley ball because you need money-- because guess what asshole as of right now-- your homeless”

“ fuck you as if “

“ we’re over Suna don't let my words finally hit you when you walk out the shitty door”

“ that’s fine by me “ he scoffed “ get the hell out for all I care — I'll pack your shit for you “

“ no— I'll pack your shit asshole your living  in my house bottom feeder “

“ if you don’t shut the fuck u— “

“ then what ? huh what — you’ll leave me “

“ I swear to god I'll —”

“ you’ll what cheat on me with my best friend ah I'm so scared — “ your voice holding nothing but mock enthusiasm “ I can just imagine the way you’ll kiss her when I'm not there — these thoughts for some reason almost feels real y’know “

you watched as the man you’d taught yourself to love for 7 years since high school finally walked out the door. His perfume from earlier still hanging in the air long after the door slammed. Your mind racing when you were finally brought to one thought

‘ how did we end up like this and how the hell do we get back ‘

[lanarist]

NSFW 18+ Plug! Dabi x Fem! Reader HC

a/n: first off, minors DNI. Second, this is my first time posting any of my writing on any platform. I have so much shit on Wattpad that just sits in the drafts. I am not confident enough to publish my shit writing. I’m shocked that i am even doing this. But I thought about this while breaking up 🍃🍃 for a blunt. I’ve seen so many hcs/Drabbles of stoner Dabi. ....but what about plug dabi

Also I want to mention that I do not condone drug use unless for medical reasons. it helps me with my extreme anxiety. literally saved me. And I 100% do not condone drug dealing. Just wanna throw that out there before you read.

a/n: this shit is SOOO long I’m sorry. I worked on this for like three days.

Summary: literally brain rot. Dabi being your plug HC.

Warnings: drug use, intercourse, dumbafication, oral (f receiving), sexual themes, mentions of alcohol.

I feel like you would probably meet him at some house party. Full of people drunk and/or high off of drugs that were given at the party, the supplier being Dabi for said drugs.

He immediately noticed you when you joined the circle of people passing blunts around, thinking you definitely did not belong here. You looked so innocent with those unsure doe like eyes when a random guy passes the blunt to you.

Gravely mistaken when he watches you puff that blunt like a champ, not coughing up a lung once and throwing back alcohol like it was water. Good girl on the outside but bad girl on the inside? Holy fuck he thought you were hot. He’s gotta get to know you.

After the smoke sesh, he would pull you aside to introduce himself just to get close to you.

Would definitely give you his number saying, “if you ever need anything, hit me up. I got whatever ya need, doll.”

Anytime you text him needing something, he would get so excited. He would drop whatever he’s doing. It don’t matter if he’s in the middle of a sell, dead asleep, at his part time job extra cash, or early in the morning. He’s gonna give you what you’re asking of him asap.

Definitely giving you discounts even on his best shit. Original price for 10 grams is $100? He’s giving it to you for $50.

Also would throw in extra without your knowledge. One time you noticed he gave you three extra grams and tried to give it back to him. “‘S okay. Just keep it, doll.”

Plug dabi would definitely get jealous if you bought anything from anyone else besides him. He will make sure to give you shit for that.

If he doesn’t have what you need at that moment. Baby, he’s going to make sure he gets it by any means necessary if it means he gets to see you for a few minutes.

Will always bring the drugs to you wherever you’re at. No matter how many times you’ve told him you’ll meet him somewhere or come to his place. He doesn’t wanna inconvenience you.

He would always look for you at parties. Once found, he’s dragging you away from everybody to a vacant room, outside, or to his car. He wants to smoke with you alone.

Loves when the smoke rolls smoothly out of your mouth after you inhale it. Thinks you look god damn sexy with the smoke floating around you and your low red eyes look fucking adorable.

If there’s something new you wanna try lsd or shrooms etc, he’ll offer to be with you and to stay sober incase you have a bad trip.

He knows he’s completely infatuated with you, but will not admit it to his friends. Especially Keigo. “You’re fucking whipped.” “Shut the fuck up, Keigo.”

Absolutely hates it when some random dude hits on you at parties or even stands close to you. He’s pulling you away to smoke.

Finally gets the balls to text you one night to smoke with him. “I got some good shit this time, doll. Wanna smoke it with me?”

When he gets to your house, he’ll already have the blunts rolled, a pipe, or anything you want ready for you.

Will hold the blunt to your lips when it gets too small. gets a boner feeling how soft they feel. He doesn’t want you to burn your pretty fingers.

Loves that you match his energy when it comes to smoking. No one has been able to smoke as much as he does like you do.

When he starts to notice the looks you’re giving him, the way your eyelashes bat at him and the lustful look in your eyes. He decides he can’t hold back anymore.

He’ll grab your chin with his thumb and forefinger to face him, softly blowing smoke onto to your lips as he stares at you. Will roughly pull you in closer to smash his lips against yours after the smoke disappears.

Gently pushes you to lay back on your bed so he can hover over you and rest himself between your legs.

No high from any drug could compare to the soft whimpers and moans leaving your lips when he pushes his hips into yours. It was fucking music to his ears.

Absolutely snaps when you tug on his white hair. He’s tearing yours and his clothes off now.

And don’t you dare try to cover that beautiful body of yours. “Don’t hide from me now, baby.”

He’ll start leaving marks on your neck, then down to your breast, taking extra time sucking, licking, biting, and kissing on them.

When he gets down lower on your body, he’s happy to set that you’re already soaking, showing that you wanted this as much as him. He’ll wrap his arms around your thighs, setting them over his shoulders and will go to fucking work on your pussy.

Swears that he could’ve came on the spot from the moans and whimpers leaving your lips. Especially the moan that you let out when he added two of his fingers into the mix.

Will make it a point to constantly praise you while his tongue makes you feel like you’re higher than cloud 9. “You taste so fucking good.” “God, so fucking beautiful.”

Will stop right before you cum. “Nah, baby. I want you cummin on my cock.”

After he’s got you all ready for him, baby you are in for it. He’s waited so long for this fucking moment. He ain’t holding back. He’ll grab your throat tightly as he seethes himself into you. You both gasp at the feeling of pure ecstasy.

Loves your fucked out face. Tongue lolled out. Tears brimming your eyes. Little bit of drool dripping of the corner of your mouth. Hair a complete fucking mess from the many times he’s pulled on it.

His stroke game? GODLY. He’s thrusting into you like a god damn rabbit but he’s hitting all of the right places and it feels so fucking good.

100% rough but his words are the opposite. “You’re taking my cock so well, doll.” “Look so beautiful while I’m fucking ya dumb.” has a degradation kink but that’s for another time.

Aftercare with Dabi is pure heaven. He’ll hand you his shirt from off of the ground for you to wear. He’ll clean you up, light up a blunt for you two, and cuddle you until you both fall asleep.

Oh and, you definitely getting shit for free for now on.

Tags: @bakugosbratx

[yoonpobs]

may I please request a heartbreaking angst drabble where jungkook cheats on the oc with her best friend and is completely heartless about it

thank you in advance ✨

THE AMOUNT OF JK ANGST REQUESTS I RECEIVED 😭damn jk stans ... are u ok?

anyway ... here u go bc I love me some angst too 🤣

pairing: cheater!jk x oc

genre: angst

warnings: infidelity, heartbreak, oc deserves better friends and a better man

words: 1, 235

“Wait—can we talk—please? Please look at me—” The desperation in his voice is clear when you turn around, face thunderous while the flutter of your dress swings with the motion.

“What is there to talk about, Jungkook? You humiliated me in front of my parents—in front of everyone,” you seethe, teeth barring when you poke into the pocket of his suit blazer. Your eyes strain to the rose tucked prettily inside. 

You were allergic.

“I know, I know,” He exasperates, hands reaching out in an attempt to hold your arms down, “I’m sorry.”

The weather is too bright for you to be outside the wedding hall, your hands holding onto the heavy drapes of your dress as your makeup thaws under the blazing heat. The birds are singing a tune you’re unfamiliar with, a mocking cry to a special day turned sour.

“What the fuck is sorry going to do?” You hiss, “And you don’t know Jungkook. If you did you would’ve never fucked up the way you did today.”

Jungkook stands with a forlorn expression, his hands draped helplessly by his side as he attempts to assess your features. But the only thing you allow him to see is the vexation that plagues your skin, the usual, polished and prim girl was no longer there—but was replaced with a re-extinguished flame and he was the only person to blame.

“I didn’t mean for them to find out!” He defends, eyes scrunching in annoyance when you hurl out accusations in the open air, for the wind to breeze past and for the leaves to trickle down.

“What were you even thinking?” You sneer, pushing at his chest in hopes of transferring the ache in your own to him. Whatever transference of energy that you could ever conjure is poured out into your fingertips, even as they shake. “God—why couldn’t you have fucked Soojin after the wedding? Why before you were meant to walk the aisle? Huh? Am I a fucking joke to you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks, a sign that he was attempting to level out his own anger the more you retaliate with your grating tongue; unapologetic when you stare him down with eyes of a snake, venomous and hostile when you recall the events that unfolded.

“You said we could see other people!” He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air as a futile attempt to reason with you.

You laugh humourlessly, “Not on the day of our wedding, Jungkook.” You say softly, “Not when my parents and your parents, and the hundreds of business associates in that damn hall are waiting for me to walk down that aisle.”

He purses his lips.

“My best friend,” You scoff in disbelief, a tight smile appearing on your face, “She took being there for you a little too literally, huh?”

Your emotions took a one-eighty, the subdued tone in your voice escapes your lips when you stare blankly ahead, eyes far away from Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when the last thing you remembered was seeing him and Soojin, in the dressing room of the bride—making love to one another like it was the very last time they could do so.

You were the villain, the person in-between their love story. The person Jungkook’s obligated to where his heart lays in your best friends palm. You were the instigator to the events that unfolded, the same person that gave Jungkook the ammunition to wreak havoc and destroy your heart. There was no way he would’ve known Soojin otherwise.

“We’re not marrying for love,” He reminds you in a soft voice.

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Did you think I wasn’t aware?” You narrow your eyes at him, taking an intimidating step into his direction so that you’re nearly pressed up against his chest, “I never asked you to love me, Jungkook. I asked you to respect me. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Jungkook’s eyes darts away, a mechanism he opts for to push aside the guilt that eats him whole.

“I’m not stupid, Jungkook. But you made me look like an absolute fool in there. While I was mingling with your family and telling them how much you’ve taken care of me, how much you’ve loved me throughout our engagement—you were fucking my best friend in broad daylight. All while I had to put on a plastic smile and pretend like I was happy.” You say hoarsely, “you found your happiness in a loveless marriage. You couldn’t even pretend to be happy with me for a day?” You finish in a soft whisper, fists clenching by your side.

Jungkook sighs, a deep exhale that has him moving forward until his arms are wrapped around your body; all while you try to level your breathing so that you wouldn’t cry. But it’s to no avail, especially when he whispers apologies like they meant something into your hair, his strong arms rubbing soothing circles onto your shoulder blades. He holds you almost like a lover would—but you would be an idiot to burn twice.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaks, “I couldn’t help myself … I just—I wanted to be in love, I wanted to feel loved.”

You wanted to scream. Because Jungkook was smart, a son to two genius’ and a genius himself—excelling in everything he did and topped medical school—but he was so stupid; that he couldn’t even see that you were trying. That you tried so hard to love him.

And that you did.

You sink into his hold even if it’s temporary, even if his heart is set on you only when you’re vulnerable. Because he would never love you at your best, never love you if it weren’t for show.

“I’m still going to marry you.”

Jungkook’s arms rest loosely around your waist, a pause in his ministrations as he considers your words.

“I disrespected you,” Jungkook says softly.

You bite your tongue because, amongst all the other things he’s done, the disrespect hurt the least.

“And I’ve told white lies my entire life, Jungkook. At least now I have the dress to match.”

You push him off and swipe at your tears, taking a deep breath as you compose yourself. It’s terrifying how in just two seconds you were smiling widely, as if your heart wasn’t shattering in your ribcage, or that you had to walk into that wedding hall and marry a man that didn’t love you and would return to where his heart laid the moment it was all over. And that everyone knew where he’d run to if he had the wings to fly.

You smile, even if your face is tight. You take the first step to return to the hall, to tell everyone that your love for Jungkook was stronger than anything else and that you’d move past this. Even as you keep Soojin by your side. Because a friendship of two decades with a woman that’s seen you through your worst is just as important—if not more, than the person you fell in love with.

Just as you’re about to leave, his hand darts out to grab at your wrist to turn you around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, murmuring the words into your hair when he presses a kiss to it.

You smile. Again. You smell her on him.

You turn.

[messrmoonyy]

The fluff 49 with Remadora!!

I literally used to always just write from Doras thoughts yet here I am now obsessed with writing outta Remus’ head. Jealous Remus. We love to see it. Prompt from this list.

Prompt: ‘ is somebody jealous? ‘

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: mild language

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, so drop me a request! Check my masterlist for who I write for!

Remus didn’t think he was a particularly jealous person. And he had plenty to be jealous of when he thought about it. But it just… never crossed his mind to be jealous. He was too far past having an emotion so useless, jealousy would never get him anyway. Being jealous of a man with more money than he had wouldn’t magically make a hundred galleons appear in his pocket. Being jealous of other people his age who were settled down with families wouldnt make his family return from the dead. Yet…. There he was, sat at his desk in the Grimmauld place library, practically seething.

He knew he was being ridiculous. Completely. But watching Sirius and Nymphadora laughing on the other side of the room was making his blood boil. He felt a little stupid in fact, they were related after all. But. The Blacks did have a bit of reputation for that didn’t they. And there was the matter that he’d heard Harry talking to Hermione about how he thought Nymphadora and Sirius were secretly a couple. And of course to top it all off Sirius had, and probably always would be, an absolute ladies man.

He didn’t really have a right to be jealous. Yes he and Tonks had been getting very… close, if that was even the best choice of words. He didn’t think close did justice right the several bouts of snogging he had found himself in a multitude of places around Grimmauld place. Only the previous night on the exact sofa she was pratting around on with Sirius now. Not to mention the nights Tonks snook into his room, or cornered him in the back of the library. And there was that one time he’d practically jumped her in the drawing room after a meeting. But there hadnt been any real discussion on what they were.

The only vague discussion being after their first kiss, when Remus has avoided her for a good four days after. Wracked with guilt that he’d let his self control slip. But she’d cornered him in the kitchen and forced him to confront the situation head on. He’d tried to tell her it was probably a mistake. That he wasn’t exactly the best of choices for her. But she’d told him he was ridiculous, that she didn’t care about his age. His condition. But there hadn’t been a talk on their situation since. He didn’t like to bring it up. Maybe it was simply casual for her. A late night hook up when she had stress form work to blow off. So he couldn’t be jealous could he.

But he was. Insanely so. His grip tightening on his quill as Sirius flung another awful joke at her and she threw her head back with laughter. Remus didn’t get it but she clearly did. He tried to distract his jealousy away by focusing on just how beautiful she was when she was laughing, how her eyes crinkled at the corners and her cheeks flushed pink. But it didn’t work as well as he hoped. Because if he noticed those things. Sirius must too.

“ if you two are going to continue being so noisy then would you just leave. Some of us are trying to work “ he snapped, slamming his fist to the desk for good measure. Sirius made some grumbled remark about Remus being a bore. But he didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“ ooo Tonksie that’s his professor tone “ Sirius said in a loud whisper before laughing again and nudging Tonks with his elbow “ sorry sir. Detention for talking in class? “ they both burst into laughter, Tonks steadying herself with a hand to Sirius’ shoulder. Remus sighed and tried to ignore them, his knuckles turning white around his quill. “ oh come on Re. Have a drink, lighten up “

“ I’m not in the mood. I’m trying to work “ he grumbled, purposely not looking over at she’d Sirius now had his arm slung around Tonks shoulders. He was being ridiculous. Though Tonks seemed to pick up on it.

There was then some hushed talking between the two of them, that his heightened senses would’ve allowed him to hear if he cared enough. But instead He huffed and looked back down at his mission report. There was the creek of the library door as Sirius left with another remark about how boring Remus was and then quiet. Assuming that Tonks had followed Sirius out of the room he debated on going to find her. But a few moments later her arms looped around his neck from behind him, her nose brushing against his cheek.

“ is somebody jealous? “ she said quietly, mischief evident in her tone. He’d hoped he hadn’t been so obvious. Clearly he had. Of course he had. He wasn’t exactly well practiced in the art of hiding his affections for someone. And besides, Tonks could read him like a book.

“ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about “ he felt her smile against his cheek and she tightened her hold on him, bringing her chin down to rest on his shoulder.

“ he’s my cousin Remus. I might technically be a Black by name, but not by nature. Not really into the whole ‘ fuck your family members ‘ thing you know? Especially not Sirius. Merlin. It’d be like shacking up with a brother or something. Nasty. Ugh now you’ve put that imagine in my head “ she shivered at the thought and he couldn’t help but smile.

“ you said yourself he’s handsome “ he pointed out, remembering the conversation that had actually lead to their first kiss, in a much similar situation to the one they were currently in. His so thought non existent jealousy coming out to bite.

“ doesn’t mean I wanna shag him Remus “

“ you always have such a way with words “ she laughed lightly and moved around in front of him, hopping up onto the desk and folding her arms.

“ I’m quite offended actually “ Remus sat back in his chair and watched her intently. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from drinking “ I mean come. On. Remus. You’ll be saying I’m shacking up with Arthur next because I laugh at his dad jokes “ when she put it like that he guessed he had been a bit irrational with his thoughts.

“ I heard Harry talking about it with Ron and Hermione. I think most of the kids believe you and Sirius are up to something “ she scoffed at that and quirked an eyebrow.

“ so you’re listening to the theories of the most unobservant boy in the entire country? I mean I love the boy I do, but I think he needs a new pair of glasses. His clearly aren’t working well “ a small smile tugged at his face then, Harry was a bright boy but he did have a tendency to be quite…. Oblivious. To everything. Tonks was quiet for a few more moments before tilting her head to the side inquisitively, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. She looked deep in thought “ so what’s this really about then? “ Remus frowned and raised his hands as if in mock surrender.

“ nothing. I told you I heard Harry and the way you were with Sirius.. it’s nothing “ she rolled her eyes and hopped off the desk, stepping either side of his legs and wiggling to get comfortable in his lap. His hands flew to her waist, unable to stop himself as she placed her hands to his shoulders and titled her head again.

“ Remus “ her voice was slightly sterner but she was smiling at him “ you can talk to me. You know you can “ he debated telling her the truth. That he was just getting jealous because she could do far better than him. She could have whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And he was scared to lose her. What they had, whatever it really was, was great. Remus hadn’t been so happy in a long. Long. Time. He didn’t want to push too far and send her packing. But he didn’t want to hang too far back and have her run off to someone else. It was a constant dilemma in his head.

“ you and I “ he started, not really even sure where he was going with his speech “ it’s good. It’s. It’s marvellous “ she laughed a little and nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“ it is. Though I sense a ‘ but ‘ incoming “ he sighed and fiddled nervously with one of the beads on her shirt. They were haphazardly sewn all over it and he wondered if she’d added them herself.

“ I’m just waiting for the inevitable “ he said after another short moment of silence. Deciding now was a better time as any to tell her. She was stubborn and she had him right where she wanted him. So it was going to come out there and then whether he liked it or not really.

“ ‘ the inevitable’ being?…. “

“ finding someone better- no now before you make that face let me finish. Please “ she had sighed as soon as the words left his mouth, sitting back slightly with an eye roll.

“ Remus we’ve talked about this. Can you just get it into your head, that I fancy you. Not Sirius. Not some random ‘ someone better ‘. You “ he couldn’t lie that the words made his heart pound just that bit faster. The confirmation being all he’d really needed. But there was always going to be that worry in the back of his mind. It would never go away.

“ I know. And maybe I’m a fool to keep bringing it up. But you have to admit that I’m not exactly at the top of most peoples most eligible list “ she took his face in her hands then, making him look her in the eyes. He’d noticed she didn’t change their colour very often anymore after he’d made an offhand remark about how beautiful her natural brown eyes were. They were captivating.

“ no one else bloody matters though. You’re at the top of my list. That’s all that matters. Maybe I’m mental. Maybe I’m not. All I know, is you’re one of the only truly decent man I’ve ever met. You don’t make me morph. You’re so respectful it’s practically dripping off of you. And you’re proper fit too which is totally just a bonus “ he hoped she couldn’t feel his cheeks heating up under her hands. But her smile told him she probably could.

It was odd for him to look at her and think that some one could ever even have the nerve to make her morph for them. To fit their idea of what was perfect. He thought she was marvellous in whatever form she thought was best fitting for her each day. He’d never dream of making her change. In his eyes, there had never been a more perfect specimen of a person to walk the earth. She made him laugh. Made him feel normal. Cared for. He couldn’t believe she would ever have eyes for him. But she did. And he guessed that miracles must truly be real.

“ I’m sorry for being so jealous “ her face softened again and the backs of her fingers brushed over his cheek.

“ it’s fine. I mean. At least it shows you care? “ she laughed a little and he felt his tension melting away a little.

“ I do “ her hand crept towards the back of his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair and she shuffled a little closer again.

“ good. Now stop being a mope and realise we’re on own again “ she whispered the last part, her face inching closer so he felt her breath on his lips. And with a smirk she caught his lips in hers.

[yandere-society]

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink. 

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

 So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume. 

  So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am. 

  So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him. 

  “Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“ 

  She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand. 

  “To the left!”

  “Take it back now, y’all.” 

  Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was  the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her. 

  She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her. 

  That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma. 

He growled and  swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

  “How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

  “Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

  “What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

 “Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

  Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

  Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

  “Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

  “Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side. 

  “Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.” 

  “The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.” 

  Baley neck rolled back in offense.

  “Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

  Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung. 

“She claps your cheeks?” 

  Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips. 

  “It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“ 

  “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut. 

  He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat. 

  “What, fucker?” She scorned.

  “I can see you.” 

  “Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?” 

  She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk. 

  “Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

  ”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?” 

  Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which  only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle. 

  “I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious. 

  “This isn’t Taehyung.”

  “Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?” 

  “Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

  “Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

  He let out a chuckle, a dark one. 

  “Boo bear?”

  “What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

  “Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

  The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation. 

  “HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

  “W-What do you want me to do?” 

  See?

  “Be a good girl, and come here.” 

  “Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation. 

  The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely. 

  “Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

   Baley reluctantly— and stupidly—  did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked. 

  “I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time. 

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..” 

  Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...” 

  “GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching  Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging  at Baley. 

  She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

  This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town. 

  Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

  CHEATING PIG!!

  Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads. 

  And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

  “May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car. 

  Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

  —

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart. 

  It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit. 

  You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

  You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

  You still resent the police department  for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind. 

  It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day. 

  “Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug. 

  They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

  “Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it. 

  “Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand. 

  “That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

  That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

  He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim. 

  And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right... 

  He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

  But holy fucking hell, did it.  Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

  “NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news. 

  “Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

  “How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

  “Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.” 

  “Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

  “Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days. 

 But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

  “FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

  He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching. 

  You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

  “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half,  making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard. 

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this. 

  “How’s it goin, guys?” 

  “Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

  “I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

  He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans. 

  “Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it. 

  “Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.” 

  He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand,  following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

  Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

  “Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place. 

   “I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine. 

  “Did you polish it?”

  “Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed. 

  “It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

  “Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils. 

“Where’s your plate?”

  “I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you. 

  So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

  It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot. 

  From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.  Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call. 

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then. 

  Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you. 

 You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

  “Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

  “Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out. 

  He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

  You then continued to battle with basic communication.  

“So, uhm.. wh—..” 

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

  “I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you. 

  “What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part. 

  “All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone. 

  “That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued. 

  He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?” 

  “You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.” 

  “Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.” 

  Stop starring at his fingers.

  “Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

  “Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that. 

  “I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.” 

  “What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

  “The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.” 

  “Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though. 

  “You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.” 

  “I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?” 

  “19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

  “18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

    You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you. 

  “I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

  “Whatchu mean?”

  “Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.” 

  “I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you. 

  “Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?” 

  “Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

  “Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?” 

    It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it. 

  But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can. 

 It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side. 

  Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

  You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him. 

  “What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

  “Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?” 

  “Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.” 

  You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

  “There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

  Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?” 

  “Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.” 

  “She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

  “Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.” 

  “Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again. 

  “But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

  His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer. 

  “You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

  “Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?” 

  “Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

  “Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.” 

  “Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised. 

  “No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.” 

  “Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did. 

  Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

  “I have a special surprise for you.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

 You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds. 

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

  “WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

   That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might  discover you have a mask kink. 

  “What the fuck is up with the voice?” 

  “Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless. 

  Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent. 

  “You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

  “I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.” 

  “No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table. 

  And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

  “Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there. 

  But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

  “T-Take that damn mask off—“ 

  Wrong move.

  He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face. 

  “I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain. 

  He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

  He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it. 

 Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you. 

  If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

  It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back. 

  Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone. 

  “What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?” 

  “No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.” 

  A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him. 

  “I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.” 

  “I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.” 

  Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

  “I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.” 

  That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends.. 

  He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

  But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

  So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly. 

  You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor. 

  Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

  “Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door. 

  It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

  “Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly. 

  The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off. 

  “Sir..?” He repeated.

  “Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.” 

  He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.” 

  “Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

  Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

  “Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.” 

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now. 

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

[karlnapity]

I Hope You Die in a Raging Inferno of Pain

AO3 link

TWs: panic attacks, depicted death

Jack Manifold is ambushed on a Tuesday. He’s at the hotel, the front desk where he always is, and he barely has time to register what’s happening before Tubbo is dragging him outside. He sputters, tries to wrench his arm from where Tubbo’s holding it, but he wasn’t strong even before he died, and he’s got no chance.

“Tubbo- what-” He’s quieted by the other’s shushing.

“This is an intervention. You’re going to therapy.” Tubbo’s voice is gleeful, but Jack can parse the underlying serious tones.

He scowls even as he trips over his feet as he’s pulled along. “I don’t need therapy.”

Tubbo laughs at that one. “Bossman, I think we could all use a little, and Puffy’s offering it, so you’re going.”

“Puffy hates me.” He scoffs.

Tubbo huffs. “Give it a shot, at least?”

And Jack can’t refuse him.

.

Jack hates everything about this.

He rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. He didn’t even know he could still sweat.

Puffy sits across from him, tapping her foot in a rhythm that makes him want to pull his hair out. She hasn’t said anything yet, seemingly waiting for him to start the conversation, and he’d rather die again than actually talk to her.

He doesn’t want therapy. He doesn’t need someone else to tell him he’s a horrible person. He can do that himself.

Eventually, after what seems like years, Puffy clears her throat, and his attention snaps to her. She leans forward, slightly, on her chair.

“So Tubbo brought you in?” She asks. He nods, once. He doesn’t look her in the eye. He really wants to leave.

“Well,” she starts with a rueful smile. “I wouldn’t usually say it’s good to drag people to therapy against their will, but this is the fucking Dream SMP. Sometimes I think it’d be good if we just had one big group session.”

He grunts something that would be a laugh in more comfortable circumstances. “Someone would die.”

She chuckles at that. “You’re probably right. Maybe it’s for the best.”

After a few moments of awkward silence she leans forward again. “So, tell me about you. Do you think you need therapy?”

He feels very small all of a sudden. He shuffles his feet. His legs ache. Everything aches.

“Dunno,” he mutters.

“I need a little more than that, Jack,” she coaxes.

“I… guess?” He wants to melt into the floor, maybe fall back into hell again if it means escaping this conversa

(Fuck)

(No)

(No no no no no no no no)

(He can’t think that he doesn’t want to think about that why did he think that joke was)

“Jack?”

There’s a bit of pain in his arms and he realizes he’s clutching them, fingernails digging in painfully. He doesn’t want to loosen his grasp.

He starts as he notices Puffy next to him. He’s not sure when she moved. She tugs his hands away gently, and he relaxes reluctantly.

She catches his eye. “What were you thinking about?”

The question is asked so gently, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, eyes darting to the floor to avoid the way they water just slightly.

“You know I died?” He asks, and his voice feels raspy like his lungs are still full of fire

(Don’t think that)

He tries to draw his arms back in but she holds tight on his wrists.

“What life are you on?”

He barks a laugh at that, something pitiful and angry and he tries not to yell.

“Four,” he croaks, and her expression twists.

“That’s not funny, Jack,” she reprimands, and he pulls himself away, stands to face away from her even as his vision swims.

“Well I’m not fucking joking, am I?”

(Wilbur told him once when it was still L’Manburg that Jack was like a small animal, or some fucking metaphor like that, all puffed up and angry to cover up that he was scared, and Jack told him they were in a fucking war, and he was allowed to be scared, and Wilbur laughed and told him ‘There he goes,’ and Jack thought it was funny.)

(This was, of course, before Wilbur killed him.)

Puffy seems to have realized he was serious, and he hears her stand behind him. She doesn’t ask the normal question, which is good, because he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“How did you lose them?”

He turns to her. She looks so out of her depth he almost wants to laugh.

“Wilbur, Tommy, Techno.”

She sucks in a breath. After a moment she chokes out, “Tommy?”

He does laugh, then, and then there’s nothing but fire in his veins, on his skin, and it burns so much. “Yeah, your fucking precious kid? The one who can do no wrong?”

Puffy hasn’t even said anything, but he’s started, now.

(Tommy once compared him to a firecracker.)

“He fucking killed me. And no one knows I died to Techno, and no one cares about Wilbur, and no one has even acknowledged or even knows that I fucking went to hell, and no one cares and no one’s apologized and the only person who even cares about me is apparently fucking Wilbur and I think he was manipulating me anyways and-”

He chokes off in a scream, crumpling to a crouch, and after a second he feels Puffy’s arms around him. His skin still feels like it’s burning and he pushes her away desperately, fighting her the whole way down, but she holds tight.

He gets tired of both trying to push her away and choke in sobs and breathes he doesn’t need, eventually, and goes limp, letting her hug him. His breaths still as he calms and he feels her tense before she realizes it’s okay he’s not breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and that almost starts him up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, and I’m sorry you’ve felt alone, and I’m sorry that no one’s been here to help you. But we’ll get there.”

He clings to her, then. Some part of him tells him to stop embarrassing himself, to keep the facade, but it’s washed out by the utter relief.

Someone is listening to him. Someone knows what happened to him. Someone is paying attention to him and it’s not to laugh at him or to tell him he’s an asshole or to look down on him.

(Something feels a little bit wrong, in his chest. It feels cold.)

(His fire is flickering.)

.

Therapy isn’t fun, he learns quickly. It’s actually kind of hard.

After the initial ‘guess what, I died’ he finds he likes talking about his other issues much less. Puffy encourages him to spill, and she always listens, but after every word he fears she’ll laugh or look at him with disgust or fear.

But she takes everything with stride.

He needs to tell her about his death. His mouth feels dry. He can tell she’s waiting for him to start.

“So, um, dying,” he stammers. She nods.

“You don’t need to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“I do, though,” he snaps before he talks a breath like she taught him to.

(I don’t need to breathe, he says, and she balks for a minute before stammering an indignant You should try it anyways.)

“The final one- The one that killed me for real- Techno took an axe to my head on Doomsday. But I didn’t go to hell immediately, I guess? I just came back to life like normal, though things were weird, and it took a day for me to just. Fall through the ground?” He can feel it now, but he pushes it away. He just needs to get the words out.

“And I was just falling and falling and I saw Her and all I could think about was how I couldn’t die until I got revenge and I was so angry and then I just kept falling and then I was on the Prime Path again.” He twists his fingers in his lap. “And then I realized I was dead and I think I might be slowly falling apart like a fucking zombie and everything’s fucked up and the only thing keeping me alive- literally, I’m pretty sure- is how angry I am.”

He looks up to Puffy then. She gets this look on her face, sometimes, like she’s shocked and appalled and sad, which is kinda starting to become a recurrence in their sessions.

“What do you mean falling apart? Run me by your symptoms again?” She scribbles a few notes.

“Um.” He suddenly feels very aware of just how unnatural he is. He feels disgusting. “Can’t sleep, can’t eat. My senses are worse? It’s harder to hear and to feel and to see and stuff. And my body hurts a lot. Like, a lot.”

She nods. “Have you noticed anything that helps?”

He looks at the floor. He doesn’t want to say it.

“Jack?”

“Um.” He twists his fingers and they hurt. “When I’m angry?”

He takes a peek at her and she gestures for him to continue.

He had no idea so much therapy is just being encouraged to speak.

It does feel nice to be listened to.

“When I’m angry, it feels like this fire in my chest. It feels like I’m alive.” He sighs. “I think it’s what’s keeping me around.”

“Your anger?”

He nods. “When I was falling, all I could think about was how much I wanted to get them back. Techno and Tommy and everyone. I just wanted apologies.”

.

Puffy asks him if he wants to talk to Tommy. He really doesn’t, but she fixes him with a look and he can’t really say no.

That’s how he finds himself sitting across from Tommy in her office. Tommy is staring at the ground and Jack pretends to find something interesting in the wall.

“So, Jack, do you want to start?” Puffy asks. He sighs.

“No.”

“You tried to kill me,” Tommy starts, and the fire flares.

“You did kill me!” Tommy shrinks back, just a bit, but he doesn’t stop.

“I came to visit, because I was your fucking friend, and you just kept going on about how no one cared about you when I was right there and you shoved me into lava! Why the fuck do you think I wanted to kill you?”

He’s seething, but Tommy just looks confused.

“I killed you?” His voice is small. Jack doesn’t care.

“Do I actually fucking matter so little to you that you don’t even remember killing me?” His voice chokes and he shoots to his feet. He can hear Puffy call his name, but he’s already storming out.

He swipes furiously at his eyes as he crouches outside. He can’t cry anymore, which is more cruel than anything, but the sensation is still there.

“Jack?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” he’s saying before he even has the time to realize that he’s fucking crying in front of him. He bristles, but Tommy has crouched beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, quieter than he should. Jack can barely hear him, and he’s not sure if it’s just his shitty hearing or what.

“I’m so fucking sorry I killed you, and I’m even more sorry I don’t remember. I- I wasn’t doing well then. At all. I’m still not. I did a lot of things I regret.” He sighs. “You don’t have to forgive me. You really don’t. But, um. If you ever want to talk to someone about being dead.”

Jack sighs, runs a hand over his head. “Yeah, but you came back to life the easy way.”

“Puffy told me you’re, like, actually dead?”

Jack holds out his hand and Tommy presses his fingers to his wrist, murmuring something in awe when he can’t find the pulse.

Jack feels something like affection and tries to push it down, but it’s too late.

Tommy’s fingers feel like ice. He gasps when something breaks in his chest, jerking his arm back. Tommy blinks.

He puts a hand to his chest. Something is wrong. He’s pretty sure Tommy is calling his name but he feels far away.

Everything is so cold. His teeth are chattering, he’s pretty sure. He shivers.

Something is happening, he’s being moved, but he can’t tell what’s happening. He jerks when he feels hands on his arms, on his back, but they hold tight.

He’s laid on his back. Someone touches his forehead, but he can hear murmuring after a minute. Their hands are like ice.

It takes a long time for him to start to come to. He’s rolled onto his side at some point. He feels drifty, like when he first came back from hell, and that fear is enough to startle him awake.

He’s on the couch in Puffy’s office. She’s sitting in her usual chair, but she stands when she sees him blinking at her.

“Are you okay?” She asks worriedly, crouching beside him and taking his hands. He jerks back at how cold she is.

“What happened?” He croaks.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Tommy said you just collapsed. We were so worried.”

Tommy was worried for him. He gasps again, clutching his chest. She helps him sit up, rubs his back as he recovers.

He knows what this is. He doesn’t want to admit it.

“Can you imagine,” he starts, chuckling bitterly. “Can you imagine therapy fucking killing you?”

His anger is fading, and in some cruel, sick sense of it all, it’s not a good thing, healing isn’t a good thing, and it’s so. Fucking. Unfair.

.

He tries to keep on with his life, tries to keep up with therapy, spends time with Tubbo, and Tommy sometimes, and Niki when he’s lucky, but in the back of his mind all he can think is how it will end, and it happens all too soon.

He wakes up one day and he can’t get up.

He’s so tired. He registers, dimly, that it’s not normal, but the fog in his brain leaves him unwilling to explore the idea.

It takes three days and a missed appointment for Puffy to come find him.

She stands over him, arms crossed, and chastises him.

She starts to worry when he doesn’t even shift.

There’s no pulse, no temperature to check, so all she can do is shake him, and after a few long moments he opens his eyes.

She exhales shakingly, pulls him close to her chest. “Oh my god, don’t scare me like that.”

He doesn’t quite have the energy to refute her, so he lets her hold him. His eyes slip closed again, and she shakes him.

“Tell me what’s going on?” She asks. She sounds so worried.

He’s not good at talking at the best of times, but he’s got to try. His mouth feels dry. He can’t even remember the last time anything passed his lips. He misses eating. He’s losing consciousness again.

“Tired,” is all he manages to murmur. She shifts him in her arms.

“I need a little more than that, Jack.” There’s something in her voice. “This isn’t normal for you. You told me you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t,” he tells her as indignantly as he can muster. He knows it’s not right, how he’s feeling, but he’s so tired that he can’t be arsed, and he whines when Puffy shakes him again.

“You need to stay awake, okay?”

He’s so cold. It feels like his limbs are frozen.

Puffy keeps murmuring, talking his ear off to try to distract him, try to keep his attention, and he tries to hold onto her words. They just slip through his grasp.

.

He’s falling.

No. This isn’t fair. None of this is fucking fair.

He doesn’t want revenge. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to maim.

He wants to live. All he’s ever wanted is to live. All he’s ever wanted is safety and security and love.

And he’s fucking got it so this isn’t fair.

And the fire is lit.

.

Jack Manifold crawls out of hell on a Tuesday. He crawls out of hell because he’s a stubborn motherfucker. He crawls out of hell because he has friends, a therapist, and a way to move forward. He crawls out of hell because he has apologies to make and people to forgive and he can’t die before he finishes his argument with Tommy.

He crawls out of hell because life is unfair and terrible and awful, but he will be worse.

And there’s a hand extended. He grins and takes it. It’s warm.

[hansoulo]

how will I know; walk slow

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Word Count: a humble 1.4k

Warnings: cursing, light angst, a kiss (sorta), spoilers for chapter 15 of the mandalorian

Gif Credit: (x) by @/bestintheparsec

A/N: hello bros and hoes it is me and i am back with another oneshot this time set right after chapter 15 with a title from this song by james blake

You bounded down the hangar ladder and stood toe-to-toe, heart stuck in your mouth and lodging up in your tonsils until the word came out thick and without eloquence. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry,” the Mandalorian offered. He didn’t really have anything to be sorry for. Sometimes the guy was just polite to a fault.

“It’s alright.” The words left your chest hushed, conscious of the footsteps up and around you that echoed tinny on the walls of Slave 1. Soft assurances. Gentle platitudes. “You’re here now, yeah?”

Mayfeld was “dead” doing Maker knows what. Fennec and Cara were both off in the ship somewhere, probably polishing blasters and trading war secrets with each other as intimidating Outer Rim women tended to do. That or in the communications monitor room below deck, doing far more risque things. Boba was piloting and making sure none of you died. And the Mandalorian was here. Standing in the cold metal cargo hold. In front of you.

His chest, in beskar now, not that shoddy Imperial shit, shook with a sigh. “Yeah,” the helmet rasped. It sounded like he was speaking more to himself. “Yeah.”

Why do you do that?

   Do what?

You’re very… monosyllabic. It’s unsettling.

   Unsettling.

You know you’re just continuing to prove my point, right?

   Mhm.

Maker, you’re infuriating.

   Yes, I am.

Hey that was three words! Progress.

Your throat tightened with a swallow when you realized you still stood only inches apart from him. Feet shuffled backwards in the small hangar until he was left at a larger, more friend-appropriate distance. “That’s good. I’m… I’m glad.”

The air in the ship was thick, with relief and with another heavy thing. Regret, maybe? But what did he have to regret?

“Mando,” you called out as he turned to step up the ladder. Names were sacred things. You didn’t want to use his here. To dirty it by sharing. “Hey,” your hand met the cold metal of his pauldron, urging him to face you again. He was still. Always so still. “Did something happen?”

   I’m fine.

You’re hurt.

   It’s nothing serious.

Let me help. 

   I’ll take care of it.

Or let the kid help. Somebody.

   I said I’ll take care of it.

Let me take care of you. Please. 

His words came almost too quick. He was like that when he tried to convince you of things. “No. No, we… we got the coordinates. Everything went-”

“According to plan,” you finished for him, though your brows were still furrowed.

What’s the plan?

   We get the kid back.

So… what you’re saying is that there is no plan.

   There is a plan.

What’re you gonna do?

   Whatever it takes.

You’re so dramatic.

“Mayfeld wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened before he fucked off, though, which is weird because usually he never shuts up and I just...” you sighed, wiping a hand across your face and letting it drop unceremoniously beside your hip. “Are you sure you��re alright? You look,” and here your voice paused, waiting for the words to fill themselves in. “Rattled.”

You look like shit.

   Thanks.

Welcome. You good?

   You just said I look like shit.

Well yeah, but I’m trying to redeem myself. Throw me a bone.

   Then yeah, I’m good.

You’re a horrible liar.

   Hey, you asked.

Yeah, I guess so. Take it easy for a bit? Can’t have you falling asleep piloting.

   Glad to know your only concern is for your transportation.

Don’t forget the paycheck.

   That too.

Seriously, though. Go get some sleep. I’ll be here.

There was a pregnant pause, only filled in by your quiet expectance and the sounds of beskar shifting on fabric. He moved his weight from one foot to the other. Looked down, then up.

And then, before you could go to actually leave, not wanting to pry a thing open that the man wanted to keep shut and done with having to reach the words out of his mouth, you were picked up and turned around. Like a sack of ration flour. 

In literally any other circumstance this would’ve made you seethe but Din’s hands, although surprising, weren’t unwelcome. The furthest thing from it, actually.

There were two warm palms on your sides and your feet stumbled on top of each other until they both left the floor again, suspended above the metal sheeting as you were lifted up and crushingly close to a man that smelled like blood and sweat and someone else’s clothes but who still held you until your ribs cried out for breathing. 

You were set down after a moment, but not let go. Silent words seemed to fracture in the way his fingers dug into the skin of your hip, almost bruising in their insistence. He couldn’t tell you what happened, but something obviously did. Something ugly and beating loud in the two-inch gap between your chests and really, really bad.

There were only about two things in the galaxy that he was afraid of. Losing the kid was one of them. Breaking his Creed was the other.

So what’s with the helmet?

   What about it?

You can never take it off?

   No.

Like, never? In front of anyone?

   Not unless it’s family.

And what happens if you do? Take it off in front of someone else, I mean.

   You can’t ever put it back on.

Oh, right. Sorry.

   It’s okay.

No, it’s not. I- I shouldn’t have asked. I dunno. It just seems…

   Bad. 

No, not bad! Not if it’s something you believe. Just… different. 

And suddenly you knew why he was holding you the way he was.

The words were hitched, almost keening as your arms wound around his neck, over the thick fabric of his cape until his hands reached around the lower slope of your back to steady your ground. You could feel the indentations of his metal vambraces against your skin. You couldn’t have cared less about it. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. He only let out a breath, the sound so rattled and tremulous you could almost taste the salt dew gathering in his eyes. Eyes that someone else saw.

The muscles of his arms grew firmer around you still and your body sagged, heavy in its aching realizations. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated.

To someone else more ambitious this would probably be a good time to do… a gesture. Of the sentimental variety. Neither of you lacked courage in the traditional definition, but this kind of stuff was messy. Uncharted. 

“Din,” you whispered. His helmet shot up at the monosyllable, nearly knocking you in the chin and you stumbled backwards, shaking off his apologies. So the charting of said uncharted stuff was going swell. “I,” you began, your eyes shifting around the walls and floor instead of meeting his visor. “I care about you. A lot. I hope you know that.”

There was a loud whirring overhead when the ship lurched forward, righting itself with an awkward turn and giving you a good excuse as to why you suddenly felt nauseous. Maybe you overstepped or he didn’t hear you because he hit his head? Holy shit, did he get a concussion? Was that why he was-

“I know.”

Oh.

So no concussion.

You only realized you’d been biting the bottom edge of your lip when a gloved thumb came up towards it, pressing against the soft flesh and pulling it gently out from between your teeth. A breath choked in the bottom of both your lungs. And you waited.

You couldn’t kiss him.

At least, not now. Not here. Not yet.

You were both thinking about it.

So you did something decidedly ambitious. You leaned forward and pressed your mouth to the crest of his helmet.

It wasn’t a kiss, not really. But he still tilted his helmet up to meet it with two broad hands and you still left a smudge of mouthmark where your lips were damp and tender and so somehow this imitation kiss, this substitute in between a moment that was over and a moment that was coming, was real. 

Your bounty hunter echoed his reciprocation after you’d turned away, the rungs of the ship ladder icy in your palms. You always did like to one-up each other.

“I love you.”

[sp00ky-arts]

Screaming Symphony

Alright so, I wrote again lol. There are two versions of this story. One is clean and one is dirty. Both start the same but I put a cut for the smut version.

Anyway thanks to @moonlig​

for this idea.

Synopsis: Bo gets his ass beat..well kinda(then smut happens

You knew this place was strange from the start. Your friends too excited and interested to see the reality of what really was going on. That ‘Bo’ guy really gave you a bad feeling as well. You tried telling them, but as always they brushed you off. I mean, he wasn’t just a pretty face and a smooth talker. He was hiding something. Then your friends slowly started to disappear one by one. Your suspicions rising as you tried to find them, as well as now hiding from Bo. He was now wearing coveralls, ditching the dark suit he was wearing earlier on when you met him. So here you are now, running from the man that was currently chasing you. You all but screamed for help as you tried to get away from the man who was gaining on you. Soon your legs were getting too tired. You didn’t know how much longer you would keep this up. Unfortunately for you, he was faster, and had an advantage over you. With said advantage he had tackled you to the ground.

 “Let me go!” You shout in his face, struggling in his grip.

 “Now, sweetheart, you don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.” He warned. Was that a threat? You spit in his face which you’ll probably regret doing as you kick him in the leg.

 “Ah! You little bitch…come here!” Bo grabbed for you but you dodged again, kicking him in the jaw (rip jawline lol). “Nothing you need to worry about for now, sweetness, now if you don’t mind…” He pounced on you, encasing you as you squirmed in his grasp, careless tossing you over his shoulder.

 “Put me down!” You cried out as you continuously hit his back.

 “Sorry, hun, can’t do that.” You punched particularly hard in plus making him grunt.

 “The sooner I get you in the chair, the sooner I can get started with you.” He boomed. Chair

 You soon figured out what ‘the chair’ was as he takes you back to the all familiar gas station but descends down some stairs leading you to a place you haven’t seen before. It appears to be the basement. It was a bit dim, only lit but a few lights and lamps here and there. Before you knew it he thrusted you on to it before getting close to your face.

 “Alright darling, let’s see how tough you are now.” He taunted. With the little strength you had left you jerked back before headbutting Bo. He stumbled back a bit in surprise as he didn’t expect that.

 “You’re gonna wish ya hadn’t done that, darlin.” He hissed, charging at you. You took a risky shot and kicked him in the knee that him to the floor. Bo was seething when he rose back up, intense blue eyes glaring at you.

 “Alright, you asked fer it.” He strapped your wrists before layering tape over it.

 “Now, let’s see you get out of this, doll.” He breathed in your face

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 Smut Ver.

  You knew this place was strange from the start. Your friends too excited and interested to see the reality of what really was going on. That ‘Bo’ guy really gave you a bad feeling as well. You tried telling them, but as always they brushed you off. I mean, he wasn’t just a pretty face and a smooth talker. He was hiding something. Then your friends slowly started to disappear one by one. Your suspicions rising as you tried to find them, as well as now hiding from Bo. He was now wearing coveralls, ditching the dark suit he was wearing earlier on when you met him. So here you are now, running from the man that was currently chasing you. You all but screamed for help as you tried to get away from the man who was gaining on you. Soon your legs were getting too tired. You didn’t know how much longer you would keep this up. Unfortunately for you, he was faster, and had an advantage over you. With said advantage he had tackled you to the ground.

 “Let me go!” You shout in his face, struggling in his grip.

 “Now, sweetheart, you don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.” He warned. Was that a threat? You spit in his face which you’ll probably regret doing as you kick him in the leg.

 “Ah! You little bitch…come here!” Bo grabbed for you but you dodged again, kicking him in the jaw  (rip jawline lol). “Nothing you need to worry about for now, sweetness, now if you don’t mind…” He pounced on you, encasing you as you squirmed in his grasp, careless tossing you over his shoulder.

 “Put me down!” You cried out as you continuously hit his back.

 “Sorry, hun, can’t do that.” You punched particularly hard in plus making him grunt.

 “The sooner I get you in the chair, the sooner I can get started with you.” He boomed. Chair?

   You soon figured out what ‘the chair’ was as he takes you back to the all familiar gas station but descends down some stairs leading you to a place you haven’t seen before. It appears to be the basement. It was a bit dim, only lit but a few lights and lamps here and there. Before you knew it he thrusted you on to it before getting close to your face.

 “Alright darling, let’s see how tough you are now.” He taunted. With the little strength you had left you jerked back before headbutting Bo. He stumbled back a bit in surprise as he didn’t expect that.

 “You’re gonna wish ya hadn’t done that, darlin.” He hissed, charging at you. You took a risky shot and kicked him in the knee that him to the floor. Bo was seething when he rose back up, intense blue eyes glaring at you.

 “Alright, you asked fer it.” He strapped your wrists before layering tape over it.

 “Now, let’s see you get out of this, doll.” Bo breathed in your face. You shivered at the sensation that hit you. You turned your face away from him as he chuckled as guided your face towards him.

 “Look at me.” He commanded.

 “Go to hell.” You bite back, once again spitting in his face. He simply wiped it off but made no reaction and just proceeded to look at you, almost in an amused way.

 “You ain’t got the strength now, sweetheart. Just give up.” He spoke, softly caressing your face. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your body and muscles ached all over, you were tired, and you still haven’t found your friends.

 “Please, let me go.” You weakly reason.

 “Can’t do that.” He states, a wolfish smile growing on his face. You shrink away. He kisses the top of your head and you release a small noise in response.

 “You know, I saw you lookin’ at me earlier.” He bites lip.

 “W-What?” You ask confused.

 “Don’t play dumb with me. When you were with your little group of friends, I saw you.  You almost had this ‘love struck’ look on your face you know.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen. Shit!

 “Between you and me… I like you better than your other little friends, especially the one that looks like a clown with all the make-up she was wearin’.” He mused. Evie. Your face heats up at that. You weren’t blind, you knew he was a good looking man, you just felt his aura change and your gut was saying something. You blink up at him.

 “Where are they?” You ask hoarsely.

 “No need to worry your pretty little head about that, honey. It’s just you and me now.” He licks his lips as he closes in on you. He presses a kiss to your neck, smiling when he feels you squirm.

 “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He compliments. Who knows how many times he’s said that one before, you almost laugh.

 “Don’t believe me?  It’s true. You’re also very ambitious. The way your eyes light up, you seem very passionate. But there’s something else there too.” Bo concludes. Where was he going with this?

 “Huh?”

 “Your eyes tell a story. What? Am I wrong?” He continues. What freaked you out was the most was that he wasn’t far off. So you shook your head at that and he makes a small noise.

 “What’s wrong?” You debated on telling him. Why does he care? He was gonna kill me only minutes ago.

 “My parent’s, they always fight. My friends…they’re kind of assholes to be honest, and I got turned down from my job.” You explain.

 “So you’re like a butterfly who somehow got mixed in the wrong crowd?” Bo quirks an eyebrow at you.

 “I guess.” You look anywhere but him, eyes somehow focused to his wrists. As If he read your mind when you looked at them.

 “This was for misbehaving. I always got strapped down if I was ever bad.” He looks at them as the laid next to your face. You don’t know why you did it but you turned and placed kisses on them. Bo looked at you curiously as you did so. Confusion but something else was building in his eyes. Need.

 Turning back to look at him. There was something that held you two. Something drawing you to each other like a moth to a flame. Like you needed each other in a sense. What started as a fun trip took a turn, and then took a turn again. For the better? One minute you were running away from some crazy man that was trying to kill you, now he was kissing you, and you were kissing back. He kissed down your neck to where he stumbled upon a scar and kissed it. You trembled in his grasp and let out a moan at the sensation.  Your heart was beating rapidly at the attention you were receiving. Looking at him with wide eyes and biting your lip in anticipation.

 “God, you look so cute like that.” He breathed before kissing your lips again. The smacking sounds you heard were enough to send you into a state of euphoria. You wanted to grasp on his hair but your hands were restricted that. Bo kissed down your body until he got to the button of your jeans. He undid them in a flash and pulled them off along with your underwear.

 “You’re wet.” He snorted. You glare at him and he puts his hands up in defense.

 “What? It’s true, I ain’t lyin. You’ve literally soaked your underwear.” He cackled. You felt your cheeks heat up. God, this was embarrassing.

 “Do something…please” You pant.

 “Alright, miss bossy.” (What that tongue do though, I’m sorry.). Now being face to face with your wet opening (literally ew) he licked from bottom to top before taking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. You jolt at the sensation and he has to hold you’re his down from bucking.

 “Easy, easy.” He soothes. He teased you a couple of times before inserting his tongue inside you, Bo started a slow pace, softly grazing your insides. (again ew).

 “You taste heavenly, darlin.” He spoke up. Mouth shiny with your juice (I’m gagging writing this.) Eyes blown wide almost looking black. The need is overtaking.

 “Come here.” You say. Bo kisses you once again. You hum against his mouth as you taste yourself. Indeed you tasted pretty good. You felt his fingers go to your wet snatch teasing around before he thrusted one finger inside.

 “Ahhh!” You yelp. He was thick. One finger already felt like two. He started rapidly, walls clenching around him making him grunt at your tightness.

 “Another, add another.” You cry. He did as you said and added another finger. You were already full with two fingers. As he thrusted his fingers inside you his other hand found itself under your shirt and cupping a bra covered breast.

 “Wait hold on, I got it.” He pulled down the cup of your bra and encased your whole breast in his hand.

 “Shit..” You moan. Bo goes back to taking your clit into his mouth, as well as thrusting at a rapid pace and teasing your breast, all of which was driving you crazy.

 “I feel you tightenin’ around me, you close?” He hums around you, you nod as you couldn’t find your voice.

 “Then do it. Come now.” He groans. You feel yourself tightening around him, the fire in your lower belly growing stronger, almost about to burst.

 “Yes.. yess.” You cry. Bo rubs your nub as your walls clench around his fingers. His other hand teasing your nipples making your mind go fuzzy. Oh my god.

 “Bo!” You come with a shout, your body going limp. He mouth is back on you prolonging your orgasm for as long as he can. A string of curses fell from your mouth as you shook and shivered as you released

 “You did good.” He praised you, standing up and caressing your sweaty face. You took a deep breath before relaxing in the chair.

 “Think you got more in you, sweetheart?” Bo asks, and removes his coveralls. You look from his face, to the bulge that grew in his pants, then back to his face again.

 This was going to be a long night.    

Again if you want to see more trash writing let me know.

[mintjamsblog]

Does Alfie ever demand that Tommy calls him Sir?

Okay, this is so late, (I'm sorry, I have sat on this answer for literally weeks). It also answers another ask I seem to have lost/deleted, which simply said 'sub-drop?' So, here you go, it turned into 1600 words of smut, I'm afraid. (Set in my Mistakes AU, but can be read without that background).

Subdrop

"How many fingers Tommy?"

Tommy lifts his head but it drops back immediately.

"Tommy, love, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Ten," Tommy says, without even looking. "Everyone has ten."

"Alright, love, up we come."

It's no wonder, really, Alfie has toyed with him mercilessly for — he checks his watch — fuck, well over two hours, has brought him to the brink of orgasm over and over again, watched his face flush and his thighs tremble and his stomach contract in anticipation of the release he's repeatedly been denied.

Tommy's so fucking pretty when he lets himself go (when he's made to let go) and Alfie, well, he's always been a sucker for pretty things, ain't he? Beautiful things.

Tommy finds it so hard to relax that once Alfie gets him loose, persuades him into handcuffs or a spreader-bar or, immobilises him somehow, his inclination is to make the most of the situation, to wring him out like a wet towel, count every last drop of resistance as it splashes onto the floor — a puddle to be licked up and savoured (metaphorically speaking, of course, there's no way Tommy's licking anything off any floors with his arms and legs fastened securely to the straps of a leather sling).

The silly boy still approaches these scenes as if they're a test of his fortitude rather than a willing exchange of power and trust. And that's fine, mostly. A click of his fingers or a safeword could end it all, but Tommy'd far rather grit his teeth and pretend he don't want this at all. Alfie can allow that for a while, can give him something to bite down on until he's too far gone to care about giving a voice to his plight.

Usually it takes some impact to get Tommy to give up his sounds. He needs to be pushed past some physical threshold. A firm hand, a paddle, a whip — they each make him sing different notes, eventually, but always the same fuckin' undertone. Anger. Whether Tommy's angry at Alfie (likely) or at himself for needing this (even more likely) is neither here nor there. Tommy has plenty to be angry at; the world ain't always been kind to him and he's even less kind to himself.

But anger, well, it's corrosive innit? Useful when controlled, maybe, when mastered effectively and released into the world in small bursts that serve a purpose; to warn or threaten or reinforce the hierarchy. But not when it seethes in your blood, pumps through your heart and into each artery like slow-acting poison that seeps through veins and capillaries, reaches the tip of every extremity, hides beneath every thought. That sort of anger, the sort Tommy lives with, that anger needs to be let. Like blood.

Not that Alfie's some antiquated physician restoring balance to the humors. Nah, he fancies his particular form of therapy's far more effective, even if his tools are barely less crude than the old-timers' scalpels and leeches. Alfie prefers to mix things up, to intersperse the blows of a bullwhip with the soft, wet heat of his tongue; to lash Tommy with a folded belt, then hold his cock like a delicate creature he's trying to stroke back to life. He'll pinch and tease and whip and probe until Tommy rails and rages, fists balled, teeth bared, every muscle pulled taut as tension wire. Eventually he'll scream at Alfie, at himself, at the universe, then let the breath shudder out in increasingly shaky increments, like he's tumbling down the stairs.

The journey to that point is best travelled slow. Given time, Tommy's tight grunts and growls always soften into something looser, gentler, pain still evident in the pitch of his voice, but threaded through with desire and resignation and something else entirely ... an underlying need to give up or give in. To please, Alfie flatters himself.

That medley of sounds, the unwinding trajectory of 'em, awakens some possessive creature in Alfie. He can feel it uncoiling inside him, muscles sliding and flexing as he drives Tommy towards an apex neither of 'em can see — a pinnacle of endurance or restraint beyond which Tommy simply is. Or maybe isn't. Beyond which he is merely a consciousness, untethered from any worldly woes and oblivious to the sensations of his own flesh. Or perhaps oblivious to anything but the sensations of his own flesh. Either way, Alfie knows to watch when the sounds turn animalistic, when the groans are so low and feral that they peter out into breaths. Into nothing. Into rolled-back eyes and gaping mouth and climaxes so molten they look more like pain than pleasure.

"Come on love, that's it, down we come."

It's a struggle getting Tommy out of the sling, he's too exhausted to cooperate, to untangle his own limbs from the leather, so Alfie releases the two lower straps and pours him out like water. Like water he slips through Alfie's waiting arms and pools at his feet on the floor.

"Up you get," Alfie says, hoisting him under the arms, and up Tommy comes, unsteady but obedient in his altered state of mind.  Alfie braces him for a moment, waits for Tommy's body to harden, for a flicker of conceit to return to those down-cast eyes. Now is when Tommy should swipe a hand down his face, curse under his breath and huff an almost laugh, a poor disguise for self-consciousness, but a sign he's aware at least.

But Tommy offers no such reassurance, regains none of the control that usually washes back as soon as he's up on his feet. He's deep, Alfie realises. Deeper than usual.

He whispers into Tommy's ear, small praises that have no place in any moment other than one such as this. His fingers run down Tommy's back, tracing small paths through sweat that's turned cold, an attempt to distract and reassure, but already he knows it's too late. He's left it too late. He can feel the distant vibrations and knows they'll soon take Tommy's legs.

By the time Alfie gets him onto the bed, onto his side, the trembling has tipped into shivering, a violent reflex that even the finest goose-down duvet fails to subdue. Alfie curses himself for missing the cues, for pushing Tommy too hard. "S'okay," he whispers, "you were beautiful."

But Tommy is straining against the hold, against Alfie's leg wrapped over his own. "I need ... I'm gonna be sick," he says, and throws himself into a sitting position with a violent retching sound. The purge that follows isn't from his stomach, it pours down his face in scalding tears that drench Alfie's waiting hands. Tommy throws his arm up and buries his eyes in the crook of his elbow, taking frightening gasps after every few breaths.

"Come on, now," Alfie says, entirely at a loss. Sure, he pushed Tommy hard tonight, but it seemed like what they both wanted. Needed. "Please, don't," he whispers, hands searching beneath Tommy's forearm to thumb away some of the tears. He wants to tell Tommy he doesn't mind, he can cry as much as he likes. Alfie don't see this as victory; Alfie's not him. But he says nothing, afraid of dredging up ghosts as he coaxes Tommy back down to the mattress, runs fingers through his hair, holds him tight against his chest and lets him cry himself out till the tap runs mercifully dry.

"Why?" Tommy says, eventually.

Fucks sake, why what? Why anything? Why do they do what they do to each other? Why does Tommy allow it? Allow Alfie to pull the meat from his preverbial bones? Alfie's asked himself the same question often enough. Not why does he do this, exactly, he's well past shame over that, but why did he get this lucky? Why does he get to do this with Tommy? To see what no one else sees?  Why did he push him so hard tonight? Why did he think Tommy could take it?

"Why did you spend so long ... you know ..." Tommy sniffs, "when there's nothing in it for you?"

Alfie pulls Tommy out from his chest enough to look him in the eye. "Nothing in it for me? Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy?"

"You didn't even come," Tommy says.

At that, Alfie grabs Tommy's arm, fumbling to open the top button of his jeans and force Tommy's hand inside. "There," he says, in his sternest voice. "Nothing in it for me, hmm?"

"Oh!" Tommy says in surprise.

"Yeah, oh, you blithering idiot. Twice. No fuckin' hands."

He watches Tommy swallow, feels fingers flex through the undeniable evidence soaked right through Alfie's boxers.

"Why?" Tommy asks again.

"Why what Tommy? Why does God allow famine and pestilence? Why do good people die? Why didn't I meet you ten years ago, hmm?"

"Why did you fucking come?"

"Because you’re sexy as all burning hell, aren't you? Turn me on like a switch."

Tommy curls into him tighter, buries his face again, and it dawns on Alfie that he really and truly doesn't get it, does he?

"The first time, right, you wouldn't lay back." He keeps his voice low, strokes Tommy's perfect little ear. "I'd fingered you till you were leaking all over your stomach, all over the marks I'd left with the flogger. You should've been way past defiance by then, but you just kept trying to sit up ... your mouth hanging open, like you were trying to fuckin' kiss me." Tommy burrows further still. "So I slapped you," Alfie continues. Maybe that was a bit cruel. "And you only tried even harder. Lay your sinful tongue on your lower lip and strained up out of the sling." Alfie's hardening again at the recollection, at the way he'd thought Tommy was acting, playing the little minx, struggling to reach forward with his wrists and ankles bound to the straps above him. Only Tommy'd never appear so needy, not in his rightful mind, wouldn't chase Alfie's mouth like a newborn pup seeking out its mother's teet. And he'd gazed at Alfie through half-lidded eyes, in that way he had no right to do, like Alfie was the only face he knew in the entire unholy world, like Alfie could fuckin' save him, reach inside his body and take all the pain away, maybe, or make it ten times worse. Like whichever option Alfie chose Tommy'd fucking let 'im.

"And?" Tommy says, when Alfie falls silent. God, he really doesn’t remember, does he?

"And I leant down and kissed you, you silly boy. And I came in my pants, like a teenager."

Tommy makes a wet sound that could be a huff, or could just as easily be more tears.

"Weren't my fault," Alfie adds, defensively. "Your mouth was so fuckin' soft, despite what I'd done to you. And you. You mewled like a Siamese kitten..."

Tommy squeezes him, through his pants, seemingly soothed by the hard line he's holding, proof, perhaps, that Alfie is part of this.

"And the second time ... the second time ... fucking hell. Right at the very end. The last time you came. You looked so fucking fucked-out, love," Alfie's hands are roaming now, sliding over the marks he's left all over Tommy's skin. He seeks out the curve of Tommy's throat, presses kisses there. "All the fight gone out of you. Covered in sweat and welts and come, so exhausted you were trembling ... and please, you kept saying please." He cups the back of Tommy’s head, pulls him closer still. "And I didn't know what for. And I kept asking you, please, what, Tom? but you wouldn't answer. Couldn't, maybe. Too far gone to know." He bites gently on Tommy's ear, at the little crease where it joins his jaw, the tiniest sign of age on his otherwise youthful face.

Tommy's hand is working now, struggling to find its way beneath the fabric of Alfie's underwear. "Then what?" he breathes into Alfie's ear.

"And then you said please, Sir."

Tommy's hand stops dead at that.

"I ... I didn't--"

"S'alright, love, you were under, weren’t you? Too fuckin' deep to know." And there might be a tiny part of Alfie that wishes that weren't the case, that would like to hear that word on Tommy's lips again, but not at the risk of a drop. Hurts too much to see Tommy so upset.

He removes Tommy's hand from his trousers and laces their fingers together, pulls them up high enough he can kiss every sticky knuckle.

"You want me to clean you up, love? Tommy barely shakes his head; his fingers clench around Alfie's hip. "Okay, in a little while then."

Ain't right to feel so tender about being stuck to someone with come. To like the smell of their sweat so much you don't wanna wash it off. Hell, he'd sleep like this all night, in jeans and boots an'all, if it gives Tommy the reassurance he'll so surely claim he don't need.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

ALSO sending the last ask, I actually saw your pinned post aaand can I puppy-dog-eye my way into a Halloween themed Malace maybe? Magnus' masked Halloween party, featuring a cute puppy?

Not as Halloween-y as I would have liked, but oh, well... :P (You will have to wait for the other you asked for :P That is... well, I have plans for it u.u)

When Jace dressed up as a puppy for the Halloween party, trying to seduce the handsome warlock and the perfect parabatai he wanted so much, he didn't expect this.

He was hoping for eyes burning with lust, seething jealousy for daring to flirt with others, hungry kisses shared on the dancefloor, and lots of kinky, passionate sex in the luxurious bedroom.

Not... Not this.

When he arrived at the loft, where Magnus’ usual Halloween party was organized, everything seemed promising. The whole loft was wrapped into darkness; the colorful, magical sparkles and mists only gave out limited light. He could almost feel the loud, yet mystical, enthralling sound of the music, created by Magnus’ compositor friend only for this night. The slutty puppy costume he wore as an acknowledgment and acceptance for all of the teasings he received from the pair for behaving like an excitable puppy turned many heads towards him. Especially the heads of those two he planned to seduce for the night.

Looking over them, he licked his lips. His parabatai and his boyfriend wore a less revealing, but just as interesting matching outfit. Alec, over his usual black clothes, wore a simple red leather jacket, that strangely made him even more delectable. Magnus, on the other hand, went all out: red, velvety suit accentuated with black lace, high collar decorated with black feathers, head, neck, and hands full of heavy, silver accessories. The perfect Once Upon a Time couple, if Jace was not mistaken.

Their eyes immediately found him, taking his figure, his clothes - or lack of thereof - with a famished look on their faces. They kept him captivated, pulling him closer like the opposite poles of magnets. He resisted, of course, wanting to attract them to him. He took a glass of something alcoholic, and after swallowing it without tasting it, the pulse of the music lead him to the dancefloor, surrounded by people decidedly not the two people he wanted. People, who could not keep their hands to themselves.

But, it was part of the plan: making the pair so jealous so they would have no other option than finally end all of their misery and fuck him so hard he would remember even when the two of them left him for good.

It...

Did not go according to the plan.

They were jealous, all right. The green-eyed monster was a good look on them; he felt so good knowing that they really wanted him. Without even a word, even excusing themselves from the party, they pulled him out of the crowd and ushered him to their bedroom, closing and locking up the door behind themselves, shutting out the outside noises. The sudden silence was deafening.

The first part of his plan worked - they behaved as he dreamed of. The three of them, alone. The next steps should have worked just fine, but-

Nothing happened.

Fucking him senseless?! Tying him to the bed, or spanking him for being a bad puppy?! Ordering him not to touch himself while Alec rode Magnus like there was no tomorrow?! Stuffing him full from both ends?!

No. Nothing like that.

What he got instead was-

Love.

Alec gently sat him down on their beds, snuggling closer to him, while Magnus made sure nobody would interrupt their time with their lovable puppy, by not just locking the door with a key, but with magic as well. They did not want anything to interrupt their time with their puppy.

Their puppy, who needed to be reminded of something.

"You worth so much more than this," Alec said finally before the silence could turn into suffocating, instead of just confusing. Jace glanced at him, puzzled. Worth more than what?

"You deserve respect, care, love... Not grubby hands taking what is not theirs," Magnus added, but Jace still felt disoriented. What happened with the plan?

Why were they talking about respect? Love? About caring for him? Why-?

His mind was full of mixed thoughts and unnamed emotions, not believing what was happening. He loved them, all of his heart, but he never expected that they would care for him like this. He was so sure that their night would be just that. A night. Not something entirely else. Dreamed of? Yes. Hoped for? Also yes. But logically thinking about the chance of this happening? No.

Never.

Yet, there he was, sitting between the pair's loving embrace, feeling inadequate, and so ready to run. Run from them, from their emotions... From his emotions. This was not what he signed up for. This was... This was scary. Scarier than any foe, any uncertainty, any unexpected trauma he faced before.

But before he could move even a muscle, his literal soulmate, the only person who knew him better than he knew himself, gently took his hands into his.  Pulling them up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to each knuckle, his calloused fingers caressing Jace's sensitive skin on his wrist, his expressive, adoring eyes holding the blond captive.

"This is a promise," Magnus' voice purred into his ear. Jace didn’t even notice when he got closer, but now every cell of his body paid attention to the warlock sitting behind him, almost enveloping his smaller frame. "A promise of our eternal adoration."

Jace felt himself shivering. He felt like he was the deer looking into the speeding headlights, ready to be run over, not capable of moving his muscles.

Hands still in Alec's palm, the black-haired Shadowhunter dragged his lips along the side of Jace's palm, until he reached the thin, sensitive skin on his inner wrist, pressing a sweet kiss over the rapidly pulsing artery.

Magnus lightly grazed his neck with a finger, leaning closer to his ear, breathing in the sweet scent of the blonde Shadowhunter. "Kissing someone's wrist is a sign of affection," the warlock whispered. Lips still pressed to the vulnerable skin, Alec could feel Jace's heartbeat speeding up, and as the blush blooming on his cheeks darkened, he wanted nothing more than be the reason for Jace's excitement for the rest of their lives.

"It is the sign of our passion for you," Magnus added, then lightly nibbed on the blond's ear, teasing it with small bites and sweet kisses. "This one is for teasing - teasing a lover, to show that not everything has to be serious. That we will bring playfulness into your life."

"Am I not playful enough already?" Jace tried to joke, but it fell flat as his mind was so clouded with confusion, hope, and want. Magnus still chuckled, the sound so close to his ear felt like loving fingers caressed his whole body.

"You are. You are our playful little puppy," Alec murmured, pressing a soft little kiss on the tip of Jace's nose. The blonde blushed so prettily, the red color spread all over his cheeks, neck, and even his chest. He may have planned to have kinky sex, which would not have made him embarrassed, but this?

This was new for him. Unknown territory.

"And what does this mean?" He asked, voice cracking.

"Sweet, innocent adoration," Alec explained, while Magnus traced down the redness with his finger, making Jace almost losing his mind. The mixture of arousing touches and sweet words felt too much, yet, at the same time, not enough. He wanted to run, away from his feeling, from their feelings, yet he wanted to stay. To bask in their love, to be surrounded by them.

"Alec," he breathed. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew Alec would know. He always knew.

Without conscious thought, he closed his eyes, giving an opening for Magnus, to peck his eyelids, first on the left and then on the right. "This means devotion. That we cherish you and want to protect you from everything. We know that you can protect yourself, but we want to love you. Take care of you," Alec whispered.

The whine that came out of Jace was suspiciously puppy-like. He felt like he was floating. He wanted more-

No. He needed more!

He tried leaning forward, to kiss Alec, but Magnus' embrace pulled him back before he could reach his target. Thankfully, he was not long without another teasing kiss, now pressed on his naked shoulder. Magnus' facial hair left a red mark in his wake, making Jace wishing for more.

More kisses, more marks, more-!

"A shoulder kiss is a promise for more," Alec smirked, winking at Jace, but before the blond could think of anything with his slow, foggy mind, his parabatai's lips found a sensitive spot on his neck.

A loud moan tore from Jace. His head rolled back, helping Alec to find a better position, jaw slack, eyes glassy with pleasure. He felt teeth marring into his skin, not tearing, just holding, worrying - working on leaving a mark that would show everybody that Jace was theirs.

"Possessiveness," explained Magnus, leaving his own mark against Jace's skin. The blonde Shadowhunter floating in ecstasy looked utterly debauched, making it almost impossible to resist him. But it was not the time for it - not yet. They had one last kiss to share with him.

"This," Alec took Jace's right hand into his," is a promise. No, not even a promise. This is a fact," he said almost ominously. If the blonde would have had more brainpower to think about these words, he might have found them confusing and strange, but as he was halfway gone, he could only stare at his parabatai in awe.

"A kiss on the palm means," Magnus continued, taking his left hand, then pressing a feather-soft, almost not-there kiss to the center of Jace's palm. "My heart... Our hearts are in your hand."

"You have our heart. You have had it since the beginning, and you will have it until you decide you don't want them anymore," Alex finished with a last kiss on Jace's palm.

The silence that fell on the room was heavy, yet neither of them tried to break it. The pair already said what they wanted, and the blonde man, dressed as a puppy?

He had important things to wrap his head around. But one thing he was sure of: he would guard their hearts they offered him as an overprotective dragon forever. They were his - and he was theirs.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing ii. | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 245

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

The next time you see Jungkook you’re slower than he is when it comes to avoiding his presence. You were smart but Jungkook was sneaky—a characteristic that allowed him to weasel his way into your heart and your mind.

“Sweets.” He calls, tone smiling and your heart flutters unconsciously to the term of endearment that sounded a lot more taunting than it should be.

“We’re in public.” You hiss, reminding him of what you were—his secret.

He seems pleased with your reaction like he enjoys flustering you till no end that proves his upper hand when it came to your dynamics. You weren’t sure when it happened but one day he decided he wasn’t your younger friend Jungkook but Jungkook who could dampen your panties with just his smile.

“You didn’t seem to mind at the party.” He shrugs.

You glare at him shifting away from his body that leans closer when he joined you in the study booth. You chose this particular place because it was secluded away from the main area of the library, tucked in a corner where no one ever goes because it was deadly silent.

So you have no idea what the hell is Jungkook doing here, especially when you knew he had a game earlier; given he’s still in his jersey and with the musky scent of sweat and his laundry detergent.

“I’m studying.” You clip.

You avoid Jungkook’s gaze because you know one look and you’ll melt. But you needed to toughen up because you weren’t going to fall pliant to his touch anymore, or his smile or his smooth words. You remember who he is and who you were.

“Me too.” Jungkook retorts, purposefully sliding closer with a random book he’s snatched from the shelves.

You purse your lips and straighten your back, focusing purely on the task at hand rather than the fact that Jungkook was trying his best to make as much contact with your shoulder as he possibly could with his own.

Jungkook huffs when he realises that you weren’t budging, fully stuck in a half-study-half-dazed mode whenever he was around. What he didn’t know was that with every press against your stature, was a flutter in response.

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” You mutter.

Jungkook grins when he realises you’re casually flipping through your textbook while you await his response. He leans on his palm while staring straight at your face, eyes set directly on your cheek that it makes you flush harder.

“I am.” He replies smoothly, “With you.”

You roll your eyes at the flirtatious attempt even if it did make your stomach feel funny. Jungkook made you feel things out of your own control but you knew better than to continue falling for the same tricks over and over again.

“I need to study so leave me alone.” You clip.

Jungkook pouts in a mocking manner before leaning back into his chair, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair.

“You’ve been avoiding me, sweets.”

You freeze at the statement, fingers tightly gripping the sheets of paper while you force yourself to keep a neutral expression.

“No, I haven’t.” You say tightly.

Jungkook scoffs, “I’m not stupid, babe. You’ve been avoiding me ever since the night of the party.”

The night of the party was a reminder to yourself that Jungkook was horrible for you because he made you act out of your rationale, willing you to do things that you’d never do. And you made that mistake once and you weren’t going to make it again.

“And if I was?” You retort.

Jungkook tongues the inside his cheek before looking ahead, a light smirk painting his face. It’s an expression you know intimately because it’s a look he only has when he knows you’ve always been pliant for him, ready to please.

“Then I’d be really disappointed.”

“Good. I was serious.” You snap, eyes finally darting to his face in slits and he’s already looking at you.

“But you’re not pushing me away, are you?” Jungkook asks in a low voice, and somehow his palm has splayed itself on your thigh, spreading them wide enough for him to rub tempting circles on your skin.

You don’t, because while his touch is scalding it’s just as addictive.

“Leave me alone, Jungkook.” You say through a shaky breath.

He chuckles darkly and then his nose is nudging your jaw, breath hot on your neck while he hikes his hand higher up your skirt.

“You don’t seem like you want me to leave you alone, hm?” He mumbles onto your neck, causing goosebumps to arise.

Your grip on the desk tightens when he brushes his finger over the fabric of your panties and you’re mortified to realise that it’s already damp. Jungkook realises this too and he chuckles against your jaw, biting into the flesh that has you gasping.

“I-I need to study …” You choke when he presses firmly onto your clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation.

“I heard you, sweets.” He hums, “Think you can multitask?”

You hate how he reduced you to nothing but mush, reasoning and pride out the window when he pushes your panties aside to spread the slickness of your pussy with his index finger.

“J-Jungkook …” You whimper.

His nose is pressed against your cheek when he trails his lips across your jaw, down your chin and eventually your neck. The feeling of his lips is familiar but distant and it only makes your heart clench at the unattainable feeling.

You remember that he wasn’t yours. That he is as much Jennie’s as you were his; and your eyes widen in alarm, hands reaching out to grip at his wrist before he can slip a digit into your leaking hole.

“I said we can’t keep doing this.” You say weakly.

Jungkook frowns at you when you pull away completely, crossing your legs so that he won’t have easy access anymore. Your cheeks are hot and it’s both in arousal and embarrassment because you’ve easily allowed him into your heart via your body yet again, despite your own mind warning against it.

“What gives?” He asks irritatedly like he doesn’t understand why you’re pulling away.

You don’t expect him to, not when he has all the options in the world and the only person that sees you like this is … him.

“I’m busy.” You lie through your teeth. You haven’t been paying attention to your books the moment he’s arrived and you were far too distracted to continue.

Jungkook scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you when you firmly avoid his stare.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’ve been acting weird ever since the party and you literally just upped and left when I joined you and Jimin the other day.” He bites, “So I’m asking again: what gives?”

You keep your lips shut because you don’t have the courage to tell him that it’s your heart that’s tired. That you don’t think you can do this anymore because it hurts too much when he pulls away and pretends like nothing happened, only to return when it’s convenient.

“You know I don’t like it when people don’t answer me, baby.” He growls, mouth impossibly close to your ear.

You tighten your grip on the table as you clench your jaw, trying to even out your breathing so you don’t say anything rash.

“You’re really testing my patience here, ______.”

And you’re still floored at how this was the same Jungkook that used to thank you with a wide grin every time you offered help with his homework in high school, or when he’d hold umbrellas for the both of you. This was Jungkook, but older, and a lot meaner.

“I just need to study, Jungkook …” You say softly, hoping he’d take that as his queue to leave.

“And I just want to have fun, sweets.” He whispers, lips close to the shell of your ear.

The word throws you off, and you feel the anger rise.

“Fun? That’s all I am to you? A fun time?” You fume.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sudden one-eighty shift of your mood when you snap at him. But like you mentioned, he wasn’t the same, shy Jungkook that used to follow you around everywhere—this was someone different.

“What are you implying?” He furrows his brows at you.

“I’m saying—” You poke into his chest with fierce eyes, “—I don’t want to be just a fun time anymore. I’m done with … whatever this is, Jungkook.”

Jungkook locks his jaw before staring at you with dark and unreadable eyes.

“You say this now but we both know that I’m the only one that can make you scream the way you do.” He whispers.

You shiver but stand your ground.

“I don’t care. What my mind and what my body wants are two different things. And I’m telling you that all of this has to stop.” You gesture to your bodies.

“What is this really about?” He sighs, “Come on. Tell me like a big girl.”

He leans back, brash and with a lazy smirk on his face like he’s half-expecting you to apologise and fall back onto him, mouth on his cock like an apology letter. But you’re so so tired and your heart hurts because you think of Jennie. You think of the same mouth that holds all the words to hurt you on hers, and you prepare for it.

“It’s because I’m done with you, Jungkook!” You seethe, “You can’t have two girls at once especially when you’re only halfway in my door and living in her house.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, “Two girls—?”

“I saw the video of you and Jennie.” You whisper, “I don’t know when the fuck that happened. If it was before you pulled that stunt in the bathroom or after—but I don’t want anything to do with that.”

You quickly clear your belongings and stand up to leave, but Jungkook has a tight grip on your wrist so that you can’t walk away.

“Why are you mad about that?” He asks, genuinely confused.

You gape at him, opening and closing your mouth to find the right words to say but they all fall short.

“Why—what? Are you not hearing yourself? Of course, I’m fucking pissed! You finger me like some fucking pornstar and kiss me like I’m yours and the next thing you know it you’re kissing some other girl while pretending like I don’t exist. Like we weren’t friends that grew up together or the fact that you and I were close before you turned into this asshole.”

Jungkook blinks at you.

“We are still friends …” He says slowly.

You want to rip your hair out because having this conversation only tires and hurts you further, but Jungkook is oblivious to the internal dilemma that you were having with your own heart.

“Friends don’t do this shit to each other, Jungkook.” You hiss, “You don’t fuck someone over because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

“Why are you acting as if you weren’t as into it as I was?” Jungkook retorts, tone defensive.

“It’s because I was! I was so fucking into it that it blindsided me! I don’t do this shit, Jungkook—not with anyone else and it just had to be you that this happened to me with.”

Jungkook pauses, and his eyes turn impossible dark. His face is terrifying when he inches closer, all evidence of other emotions but blankness and fury painting his features.

“If it wasn’t me then no one would’ve ever touched you.” He spits as your eyes widen at his tone, “I did you a favour by deciding that you were worth it. And maybe you’re not because clearly you got attached and you want shit to be exclusive, right?”

You stare at Jungkook because Jungkook was mean but never like this. Never personal and poking at all your unhealed wounds.

“Jung—”

“Shut up,” He sneers, “I strung you around because I felt bad for you. Twenty-five and a virgin? If not me then who else, hm? Jimin wouldn’t touch you and neither would Tae. You’re just an uptight prude with a stick up her ass that can’t do anything but study. And yeah—I kissed Jennie. Right after I fingered you so hard that you cried because at least she won’t just sit there like a starfish and take whatever’s given to her.”

You blink at Jungkook, arms limp by your sides when he spits all the venomous words to your face, unapologetic when his eyes burn with intense disdain for the person he was talking to.

Everything is numb, and you can’t react because you don’t know how to. But you feel a tear slip past your eye because it’s hot—it’s hot compared to the cold atmosphere that crackles in the air.

Every single one of your insecurities was thrown out the window without a single care and Jungkook looked damned sure that he meant every word. And it hurts even more because you remember confiding him in the same things he was weaponising.

You don’t say anything at all, but your body reacts and more tears fall despite your mortification.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Jungkook.” You say through a choked breath, shoving past him with your belongings tucked tightly against your body.

Jungkook doesn’t even chase after you, frozen into place with his own words that left his mouth.

[mustyrosewater]

their responses to the words “make me.”

as i’m sure we all know, the two words “make me.” are some of the most used in a brat’s vocabulary. greatly inspired by my good friend @the-door-matt​ (who is a self proclaimed brat.) i have decided to write how pedro’s characters respond to said sentence. good luck, and god bless the brats. 

NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

javier pena :

baby, are-

are you sure you don’t have a death wish? surely you do if you give a man like javier pena any from of attitude. 

all day, you’d been trying to get under your co workers skin, simple things such as taking just a little bit of extra time getting your coffee, making you late. wearing those bell bottom jeans you know hugged your ass just the right way, anything you could do to get on javier pena’s nerves, you did.

you don’t even remember what he asked you for, maybe he’d asked you to hand him a pen, or even pass him a file that was sitting beside you; all that you remember, is leaning forward slightly from where you were sitting on the desk and tilting your head before saying those cursed to words.

“make me, pena.”

admittedly, you should have known better, but for some strange reason, you’d just felt the need to push one his buttons, at least you’d been wise enough to do this when it was after hours, only the two of you left in his office to sort through reports and such. 

you should have known that from the way he turned deathly still and looked up at you slowly, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. if look’s could kill, you’d most definitely be dead. you could only watch as he slowly took the cigarette from his lips and squashed it in the ceramic ashtray on his desk. 

next thing you know, javier has gotten up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, a hand now wrapped gingerly around your lower throat, not applying any pressure, simply sitting his hand there and keeping you still. 

“is that how it’s going to be? you’ve been trying to get under my skin all day missy.” 

as he speaks, his head lowers from around your throat to begin ghosting along your covered skin, barley applying enough pressure to feel his touch, just enough to know that its there.

“this is what you want? is that why you’ve been trying to push my buttons all day hm?”

legend has it you had trouble walking the next day, bruises on your hips and thighs certainly saw to that. needless to say, javi didn’t get attitude from you except on some very special occasions. 

francisco “catfish” morales : 

you took his hat, babe, why did you take his hat?!

he’d been searching for it since he woke up, after he’d had a shower, only to find that his hat wasn’t waiting for him on the bedside table as it always was. there was also the matter of the fact that you were nowhere to be found. 

he came down the stairs slowly, only now hearing movement in the kitchen. when he finally poked his head around the corner only to find you in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and waiting for toast to pop did he spot his cap sat snugly on top of your head, turned backwards allowing him to see the logo of the oil company. 

you must have heard him, because you turned and offered him a big smile, though he could read the mischief clear on your face. 

“morning.” you practically sang as he approached, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing on your toes to kiss the end of his nose. his hands sat snugly on your hips as he stared down at you like you would stare at a puppy that had been caught chewing on its owners shoe. 

before he could reach up to take his hat back, you broke away from his hold once you’d heard the toast pop. 

wasting no time, frankie only shook his head. “give it back.” he knew you knew what he meant, but you only turned around, giving a mock clueless look.

“give what back, babe?”

“my hat, give it back.” he didn’t sound angry, not even annoyed; if anything, he sounded like he was enjoying this little game you’d started with him.

“make me, francisco.” 

you quickly realized you’d fucked up when his eyes suddenly darkened, as he moved closer to you and had you pressed up against the counter in a manner of seconds. his breathing had suddenly grown heavy and he was practically grinding against you. 

as you breathed out a few soft moans, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt the cap being pulled off of your head, opening your eyes just in time to see him placing his cap back on his head.

your mouth hung open as he smiled down at you and turned around heading for the front door. 

“don’t even think about it francisco.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back into the kitchen, hearing him laughing as he spun you around and pushed you back onto the counter, continuing his trail of kisses. 

shane “dio” morissey : 

oof, well, i can tell you that you fucked up.

dio is not somebody who likes to be given attitude in any shape or form, not getting his way, whether it be through manipulation or force, is an entirely foreign concept our resident goth boy. 

literally, doesn’t even matter why you said it, or what it was about. all that matters is that the words “make me” are like flicking a switch in dio’s mind that suddenly has you pressed against the wall with his hands wrapped around your throat as well as dio practically seething the most pornographic sentences into your ear.

don’t expect to be experiencing any release though, dio is going to do whatever he wants, and that means that you won’t be cumming until you’re crying, not until you’ve learnt his lesson.

whether that means you spend hours with his head between your thighs or rather hours bent over the bed with him pounding into you relentlessly until you can’t take anymore, it’s all the same to dio. 

he’s not going to let you cum until you are in tears baby cakes, not until you’re crying out that you can’t take any more and that you’re sorry, this is never going to happen again and that he needs to stop.

well, then he will, only long enough to gruffly let out “make me.” before resuming his torture on your body.

yeah, you won’t be walking straight for quite a few days after that, sorry not sorry. 

oberyn martell :

it’s the giving an actual prince attitude for me-

no, for real, despite the fact that oberyn is a prince, we know that he doesn’t take it too close to heart when it comes to thinking he’s above certain things.

however, you? being a brat? haha yeah that shit’s not gonna fly. as soon as you say that sentence and give him that look, it’s over. oberyn doesn’t tolerate you being a brat unless he wants you to be a brat.

he will simply repeat his request, allowing you one more chance to be good for him, when you retaliate with another “make. me.” this time pausing between words, oberyn simply shrugs, he gave you a chance, can’t say he didn’t try.

he walks towards you and picks you up, dropping you down onto the bed, staring down at your as he unlaces the lather belt holding his tunic in place. he lets it fall off of his shoulders leaving him only in his loose orange pants as you stare up at him, narrowing your eyes and biting your lip. 

he’s not stupid sis, he knows that this was what you wanted all along, seven god’s forbid he actually lets you get away with it though.

overstimulation and spanking is all that you’re going to get, all while he nonchalantly tells you “i gave you a chance to be good my little dove, if you want to be bad, see what you get.” before he lets another smack come down hard on your thigh. 

much like our friend dio, oberyn isn’t going to stop until you’re on the brink of tears and apologizing profusely, just pleading, begging for him to let you come. 

however, unlike dio, oberyn will cave in and let you because he’s lying if he says that look when your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open turn him to putty in your hands. 

din djarin : 

ok look, he tried, he really did.

when you first replied to his request to pass him a tool with a mischevous “make me.” he only stopped for a second before resuming what he was working on.

“i’m serious.” he replied as nonchalantly as always, only causing a pout to form on your face.

“so am i.” you shrugged, moving the tool box out of his reach with your foot when he let out a sigh and reached for the tool himself.

“i’m not in the mood.” he grunted, standing up to tower over you, staring you down through the vizor of his helmet. you couldn’t even see his face, but knowing that under his helmet he must have been starting to get annoyed only brought a smirk onto your own. 

the tool that was clasped tightly between your hands was the next object of his staring. he reached for it, only for you to place your hand behind your back, not once breaking eye contact with the bounty hunter. 

though his helmet you could hear the pissed off huff he gave, right before he grabbed your other wrist and spun you around to push you down onto the crate you’d been previously sitting on. unable to move, you could only wait as he pried to tool out of your hand and suddenly let you go, only turning back to what he was working.

pouting, you turned around, expecting to see him continuing his work, instead, you watched him chuck the tool back into the tool box before he looked back at you, reaching forward to grip you by your shoulders and lead you into the room that two of you shared on the crest.

only checking once to make sure the kid was asleep, he shut the door behind him and shoved you down onto the bed, beginning to unbuckle his belt, only staring at you through his vizor. 

he fucked you into the mattress that night, so hard that you had bruises on your hips when you woke up, walking out of the room only to find him working once again, missing the small chuckle that emitted from him as you limped past him.

maxwell lord :

sorry my love, maxwell lord IV doesn’t take orders from anybody, especially not you. the two of you had gotten into some petty argument, something about how you’d already responded to star labs saying he’d be attending their charity gala, and now here he was, claiming that he no longer wanted to attend purely based off of the fact that one of the sales rep’s had given him a dirty look as they were leaving. 

you were stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and tapping your foot impatiently, staring at your boss as he propped up his feet and gave you that smirk that was all to familiar and all too infuriating. 

without another word, you simply threw your hands up and grabbed your coat, turning around and walking towards the large mahogany doors you knew would take you out of his office.

“don’t walk away from me.” his voice rung out behind you, as well as the sound of him standing up from his chair. 

you didn’t reply, only continued walking; just as your hand touched the door handle his voice rung out again, though much colder, much more harsh.

“don’t you take one more step out of this office.” 

you whipped your head around to look at maxwell, your eyes suddenly wide with insult, who the hell was he to order you? well, technically he was your boss, but still. 

you took a few steps towards him, your heel’s clicking on the marble floor before you stopped and stood in silence, letting your eyes linger on his face before finally speaking. 

“make me.” 

without even waiting for a reply you turned around and continued your retreat out of the office that you were sure cost more than your own house three times over. 

but before you could leave, you felt hands on your shoulders as you were spun around harshly to meet the angry eyes of maxwell, his breathing was heavy and his perfectly gelled hair had moved slightly out of place, leaving a few strands sitting on his forehead. 

“is that what i have to do to get you to fucking listen to me once in awhile hm?” as he spoke, he turned the two of you around and continued until you were pushes against his desk feeling the hard wooden table digging into the backs of your thighs. 

all i’m gonna say is, expect to be bent over that desk and prepare to hide the bruises around your thighs from by the time our man is done with you.

you may have begun to order him around a lot more often after that occurence, who knows. 

max phillips :

okay well, for one 

why are you saying “make me” to your boss

especially when your boss is max phillips  

it was, in all honestly, because you were having a bad day, technically your shift wasn’t starting for another ten minutes, you’d only just sat down at your desk and let out a sigh as you heard your boss’ office door opening as well as those infuriatingly well polished shoes appearing in your vision.

without even saying good morning or anything, max was already on your case about those reports that were meant to be on his desk by this afternoon.

not even waiting for a reply, he patted you on the shoulder and reminded you that you needed to start working.

without even thinking, as he was walking away, you blurted out a snide “make me.” it was meant to be quieter than it came out, a little snap only meant for your ears, and yet, somehow, he seemed to have heard it loud and clear.

the second, and i mean the second, those words leave your mouth, max’s head will have spun around to look at you in disbelief, sparing little to no time before he’s placing his hands flat on the desk of your cubicle and narrowing his eyes at you, only to growl:

“my office, right now.”

hope you’re ready bby, cause max certainly is. 

all your coworkers have to pretend that they don’t know exactly whats going to happen when max asks you to close the door behind you.

max practically shuffles his desk into the wall while bending you over it and fucking you into tomorrow, in his mind, this was his way of showing you what an attitude like that would get you

they also pretend that they can’t hear the banging and muffled moans coming from his office, he’s their boss, they can’t say shit. 

by the time your waddling out of his office, sheepishly adjusting your dress and collar, all while max leans in the door frame with a confident smirk plastered on his face. 

this is then followed by him demanding that everybody stop staring and get back to work.

jack daniels a.k.a agent whiskey : 

i love our yeehaw man, you love our yeehaw man, we love our yeehaw man.

so i can’t work out why you would want to get on this mans nerves.

it starts out small, little things that you know will push his buttons, stealing his hat off of his head once, then twice and then finally a third time.

you sat on his desk beside where he was working and grabbed the hat off of his head for the third time after he’d taken it back, placing it on top of your head and flicking the brim upwards playfully.

you knew he could stop you from taking it, but he was either enjoying this more than he was letting on, or didn’t have the heart to stop your fun, either way; what had started out as fun was very noticeably beginning to annoy him.

he sighed deeply when you grinned at him, swinging your legs back and fourth from where you were sitting.

“babygirl, light of my life, will you please stop taking my hat.” 

his voice was audibly tired as he looked up at you, only to see you grinning.

“but i like it, it looks better on me.”

by the sound he made, you could tell you were right, or at the very least, he really enjoyed seeing you in his hat, but despite that, he still lifted a hand to reach for it only to have you lean away from his reach

“i’m gonna have to ask for that back sugar.” 

“make me cowboy.”

as soon as you said that, his eyes noticeably darkened as soon as you said it, leading to him standing up and stepping in front of you, standing between your legs. 

“i won’t ask again babycakes. give me the hat.”

your only response was to lean in and smile at him.

“make. me.”

that was the limit, within mere blinks of an eye you found yourself bent over whiskey’s knee as he sat down in his office chair, the hat still on your head.

“i gave you the chance babygirl, no arguing now.”

your ass is gonna be red by the time your out of that chair, and i can confirm you will indeed be walking weird tomorrow.

but hey, it was worth the hat, wasn’t it?

pero tovar : 

baby i hope you know what you’re doing..

you stole his coin purse off of his belt while walking past him in the market, you’d stolen several coin purses today, this was just the first one that caught you.

you were only a few meters away when you’d heard him yell out from behind you, resulting in you breaking into a sprint through the crowd in order to get away from the mercenary now hunting you.

it took a few minutes of running before you were able to successfully escape, hiding behind a building and leaning against the wall huffing and puffing feeling like you were going to be sick.

finally calm enough to continue on, you turned the corner only to run bang smack into said mercenarys chest, the now very angry mercenary.

“you made me chase you through three streets senorita.”

despite attempting to turn and run once more, he caught you almost instantly and had you slammed against the wall.

“you’re one of the only people that have been able to outrun me, but despite this, you stole from me. give it back.”

maybe it was the high adrenaline, or the fact that the close proximity was allowing you to feel his breath on your cheek, but for some reason, you decided to dig your own grave even deeper.

“make me.”

the growl that left that man was nothing if not animalistic, the next thing you knew, you’d been swung around and having your chest pressed against the wall as he grinded against you, dipping face down to breathe in your scent.

“if we’re going to be like that senorita...”

yeah, needles to say you had a very fun time from then on out explaining to people how you met your latin lover. 

dave york : 

death. ELECTRIC CHAIR. did u really, reeeaallly decide to give a trained assassin attitude? ur funeral babes. 

i don’t even want to know how it happened, but as soon as that man heard “make me.” leave your pretty little lips. oh mama.

you were bent over the kitchen counter, hand through your hair, pulling it back and other hand blissfully placed around your neck, gradually applying more pressure.

“oh, you thought that was fucking funny? you want me to make you? you little fucking whore, i’ll make you then.”

trust this man will be leaving several bruises all over your body, this is literal hate fucking at a certain point, there is no other way to describe the way this man reacts to attitude of any kind.

words cannot describe the state that you are left in, but as much as it hurt, the aftercare is worth it. waking up to him laying soft kisses along your shoulder, all the bruises and bitemarks.

bringing you coffee while running you a bath so that the two of you can relax and let your body recover from the absolute torture and pleasure it has been through