#tre flip

[g1gglebug]

the fag!

[morganathebogwitch]

Sunset Sessions (Tre Flip), Procreate

Redrew an old piece of mine from 2018

[friendlyneighborhoodstonerman]

Cleanest tre I have ever done down something.

[bydatomi]

Just me being me

[ryanshultzy]

ngl getting pretty discouraged it's always "omg is there a doctor in the house?" and not "omg is there anyone who can tre flip a tech deck in the house?"

[whowilltellthem]

You heard me.

[soiceylukky]

360 flip backside 180 aka Bigger Flip

At Diamond Skatepark in LA

[chikinan]

hi can you please draw Nikaido doing a tre flip? thanks ily

you say some beautiful things.

[treasure-goblin]

Pancakes give me trust issues

[godguilla]

today I won against the nollie tre, but overall its still beating my ass

[friendlyneighborhoodstonerman]

Tres all day!!!

[ellecdc]

can i request a hurt comfort (with as little hurt as possible)

where barty either gets a letter from his dad or his dad is just a dick and he goes to reader for comfort

thank you

thanks for your request lovie! and also for your patience in my writing it <3

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!reader who comforts Barty after a moment with his dad

CW: fem!reader, Sirius spends the entire fic being an absolute pain in Remus' ass, I feel like Barty acts a bit ooc in this (more hurt Barty than angry Barty if that makes sense), I'm also not 100% sure how I feel about this piece so I apologize if it reads weird

“You can always add more layers, right? But you can only remove so many.” Peter explained earnestly.

“Not the way that I do it.” Sirius replied salaciously, earning him a jab in the ribs by Remus. 

“No, I think being cold is the worst feeling in the world.” James offered resolutely.

“Wrong.” Remus drawled without looking up from his book. “I’ve never been more miserable than when I’m overheated” 

“You’re miserable 75% of the time, Moons.” Sirius mumbled; though the words seemed to escape his mouth without his permission because no sooner had he said them was he slapping a hand over his mouth and looking at you with a horrified expression.

“Yeah well next time you’re so cold, Sirius, you can try crawling into Peter’s bed for snuggles.” Remus muttered back.

“What’s the count at now, Pete?” James asked quickly.

“That’s the….eighteenth time Sirius has been put in the dog house.”

“This week?” You asked.

“No, just since breakfast.” Peter responded simply.

“How about you, Trouble? Do you think being too hot or too cold is worse?” Sirius redirected.

“Hot.” You replied as you flipped a page of your book, earning you a snicker from Remus, a cheer from Peter, and grumbling from James and Sirius.

“You only voted that way because I’m your brother.” James bemoaned.

Peter looked between the two of you inquisitively. “Erm, wouldn’t that have put you in her favour?”

You, Sirius, and James all chorused ‘no’ as Remus snorted.

“Siblings don’t operate that way, Pettigrew.” Regulus said from behind you, causing the group to turn towards the entrance of the Gryffindor common room to see Regulus and Barty making their way over.

“Hi baby!” James called over, causing Sirius to make a dramatic gagging sound and Regulus to roll his eyes, though no one missed the furious blush that decorated his cheeks as he moved to sit beside your brother.

Barty quietly moved around the sofa to sit beside you on a cushion and let his head fall onto your shoulder.

“Hey bubba.” You greeted quietly, pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's hair.

You heard a quiet ‘hi tres’ as he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder before repositioning his head back onto your shoulder.

“Merlin, who kicked your pygmy puff, Junior?” Sirius asked after a beat of silence, causing Regulus to hiss something at him under his breath and Remus to snap his book shut abruptly.

“Alright, you’re done.” He barked at Sirius before he was throwing his now gawking boyfriend over his shoulder and marching up to the boys’ dorm room. 

You craned your neck to look at Barty whose head was still pointed downward as he fiddled with the bracelets adorning your arm.

Your bemused gaze shot to Regulus who pursed his lips before mouthing ‘dad’ at you. 

You took in a deep breath and tapped Barty’s thigh twice before standing and offering him your hand.

You knew it was bad when he never made eye contact with you as he accepted your hand willingly. 

You knew it again when not one word was shared between the Gryffindor tower and the Slytherin dungeons; nor as you whispered the password to the Slytherin common room and made your way to the boys’ dorm room.

And you knew it once more when nothing was said as you and Barty pulled off your uniforms, changed into some comfies and crawled into bed. 

Barty curled up in a quasi-fetal position on his bed as you mirrored it, your body facing his as you brought one of his hands in both of yours to your chin.

“What’s going on, my love.” You whispered before pressing your lips to his knuckles. 

The only response you got was a quick shake of his head. 

You allowed silence to fall over you for a few moments before you couldn’t stand the anguish anymore.

“Barty? Please? Talk to me…” You all but begged.

Barty’s breath hitched slightly before he was pulling you towards him from where you were joined at the hands.

Needless to say, you went willingly. 

“What happened?” You whispered as you tucked his head into your chest, wrapping your arms protectively around your boyfriend as if they could single handedly protect him from any negativity the world tried to throw at him. 

You’d certainly try.

“I don’t know why I let him get to me. I-��� Barty started, his voice cracking miserably. “I don’t know why I care-”

“Of course you care, Barty.”

“But I shouldn’t!” And though his volume got louder, his tone never grew angry; not at you, at least. “I shouldn’t; he’s awful Y/N, just terrible. And I shouldn’t care if terrible people hate me or wish I was never born or wish I was dead or whatnot. I shouldn’t care if he wants me to be more terrible like him. I shouldn’t care, it shouldn’t hurt-”

“Bubba.”

“I don’t know why I ever thought managing to receive all 12 O.W.L’s would be good enough for him.”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“I don’t know why I give a shit what he thinks of me when I know-”

“Because he’s your dad, Barty.” You finally got out, tightening your hold around your quickly spiralling boyfriend as he took a shuddering breath. “Because even if you only managed to pass 3 O.W.L’s, even if you dropped out of school to become a hard-done-by ventriloquist performer; he is supposed to love you and he is supposed to be proud of you. That’s why it hurts.”

Your words seemed to be of little comfort to Barty who simply nuzzled further into your chest which was quickly growing damp with his tears.

“I’m sorry, Barty. You’re not wrong for feeling hurt; he’s wrong for hurting you.”

Barty managed to fall into a fitful sleep as you simultaneously thanked the gods for blessing you with parents like Euphemia and Fleamont Potter and cursing the gods for not gracing such luck onto every child. 

No matter, though; you had a plan.

“Goooooooood morning, Siri!” You greeted as you floated up to your most dutiful fellow trickster.

He simply looked at you sceptically. 

“No way, Trouble.”

“What?”

“Not happening.”

“I haven’t even said anything!” You whined.

“Yes, but you see, I’m on my best behaviour today.” He explained solemnly as the other three marauders made their way over to the table where you had found Sirius sitting alone. 

“Remus refused cuddling privileges last night, didn’t he?” You asked nonplussed.

Sirius harrumphed and sat back in his chair as Remus, Peter, and James all chorused “Remus refused cuddling privileges last night.”

“That’s too bad…” You hummed noncommittally. “I could really use your guys’ help with something.”

“Yeah?” James asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he considered you.

“With a prank.” You continued, noticing the way both Peter and Remus perked up at the p word.

Finally, you turned your gaze to the eldest Black brother who was very pointedly looking down at the book he’d been studying from prior to your arrival.

“Against a very old, very bigoted, downright horrid Pureblood family.” You finished.

To both your absolute horror and delight, Sirius finally looked up at that; a rather sinister looking smile taking over his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Well…why didn’t you just say so?”

Remus was in the middle of muttering about how it was horribly unfair that he put in nearly three times the amount of effort into his homework only for his boyfriend to earn the same score as him after having hardly read the book at all just as Regulus, Barty, and Evan took a seat at your table.

“Morning.” Barty greeted you quietly as he cozied up on the bench beside you, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your head before fixing himself up a cup of tea.

“How is it that when McGonagall calls on you, you’ve not got a sodding clue what she’s been going on about, but you managed to get an Exceeds Expectations on your paper?” Remus grumbled before putting down his cup rather more aggressively than strictly necessary.

“Because, Moons; I’m brilliant.” Sirius responded simply.

“You’re a brilliant pain in my arse is what you are.” He grumbled as Sirius beamed at him. 

“I hardly understand how any of you lot get anything done with all the tomfoolery you concern yourselves with.” Regulus mumbled as he fixed himself some toast.

“Tomfoolery. Merlin’s tits, Reggie, come join us in the twentieth century will you?” Sirius taunted from the other side of James, earning him a withering glare from his brother.

“Speaking of tomfoolery.” Evan started as he looked at you with a mixture of pride and suspicion. “Why don’t we go around the table and share where we all were last night? I’ll go first; Reg and I were studying for the alchemy test coming up. Barty?”

You barely had a chance to give Evan a sideways glance before Barty was scoffing at him. “I hardly think that’s any of your concern, Rosier.”

“Nevermind; Regulus and I left you in the dorms and found you in the dorms immediately afterwards; how ‘bout you lot? Oi! Gryffindors! Where were you last night?”

“Head boy duties.” James offered without looking up.

“Prefect rounds and then bed.” Remus explained nonchalantly.

“Following my boyfriend around during his prefect rounds and then bed.” Sirius continued.

“Pete and I played three rounds of wizarding chess and one round of gobstones before bed.” You said flippantly.

“Who won?” Regulus asked quickly.

“What?” 

“Who won the game of gobstones?” He clarified.

You and Peter said “I did” at the same time before whipping your heads to look at each other.

“In what sodding world did you think you won that, Peter?!” 

“Uhm, how about because you’re a cheat?” Peter scoffed back at you.

“Oh, you’re dead. Rematch, tonight!”

“No, not tonight.” Barty argued.

“Why not?” You asked, turning your attention from your faux adversary to look at your boyfriend.

“He’ll be too busy duelling me for calling my girlfriend a cheat.”

“Don’t blame the poor sod for the fact that those two didn’t have their stories straight before our interrogation, Junior.” Evan said with a smirk.

“What the hell are you on about, Rosier?” Barty challenged.

Evan made a noncommittal sound as he tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him.

In big, bold letters, the headline read “MYSTERIOUS FIREWORK RELATED INCIDENT ENGULFED HALF OF CROUCH MANOR IN FLAMES” before the story continued on. 

An alleged attack was sieged on Crouch Manor in the late hours of the night when charmed fireworks were set off within the Sacred Twenty Eight family’s home. It appeared that the two current residents of the manor were not home at the time of the attack, so though there were no resulting injuries, approximately just under half of the Manor had been completely desecrated by the time the occupants had returned home. 

You and the marauders were all in various states of shoving food into your mouth, speaking to one another about the weather, and other general forms of innocent behaviour as Barty turned to look at you incredulously.

“What did you do?” He asked breathlessly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Barty.” You said softly; staring intently into his green eyes that seemed to be searching the very depths of yours. 

“Did you do this for me?”

You scoffed in faux derision. “The only thing I did last night was completely annihilate Pettigrew in a game of gobstones and two rounds of wizarding chess.” You continued to deny. 

“Two!?” Peter exclaimed from a few seats away from you. 

“You’re perfect.” Barty whispered at you before you had a chance to start another verbal row with your co-conspirator. 

You took a moment to examine Barty then; a way you hadn’t done since you last left him.

Since you left him curled up in a blanket, cheeks still damp with tears as he no doubt dreamed of his deep rooted hatred of his father.

But right now, today, there was none of that boy; today his expression only held ease, admiration, and hope.

“Well….perfect would have been if the whole manor had gone up in flames but…I suppose there’s always next time.” You muttered as Barty cackled loudly. 

Yes…you decided you would do it for him a thousand times over if this version of Barty was the one that it promised.

[thewidowsledger]

Rumpelstiltskin

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, bad writing, smut, fluff (kinda), top!Natasha, virgin bottom!reader, cunnilingus (r receiving), Natty is an empath demon who gives you reassurance😩

Author's Note: I wrote this in a rush and changed some parts, but I hope this turned out as what you expected sweet potato! 🍠 Request

⧗

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.”

⧗

You were lounging on your couch, your small form a tiny fitting. You absentmindedly swiped your hand across the coffee table, knocking over a potted plant in the process. The ceramic pot shattered on the floor, dirt spilling everywhere as the plant lay broken and lifeless.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the plant was one of Wanda’s favorites. You knew how much she cared for each of her plants, treating them like precious children—well your best friend loved her plants more than you. So you immediately sprang into action, frantically gathering the broken pieces of the plant and trying to scoop up the spilled dirt. You panicked, knocking over a nearby vase in the process, causing it to shatter on the floor as well.

The room was now a mess, with shattered ceramic, spilled dirt, and broken plant parts scattered everywhere. Your panicked attempts to clean up the mess only made it worse, causing you to knock over a lamp and send books tumbling to the floor.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

You let out a heavy sigh as you looked around at the remaining mess. You knew you couldn't afford to leave anything undone, not with Wanda's keen eye for detail. So you started to clean the broken lamps, put the books back in place, but you have no idea how to replace her favorite plant! Her children!

“She’ll know, won’t she?” you shakingly muttered to yourself, running a dirty hand through your disheveled hair. You looked around at the mess, knowing you still have a night ahead of you before Wanda comes back.

You whined softly to yourself as you vacuumed the rug, your imagination running wild with scenarios of Wanda’s anger. “She’s probably going to kill me...or worse, sacrifice me to have her plants back!” you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest. You stopped your tantrum. Suddenly, an idea struck you. You bolted upright on the couch, your eyes wide with realization.

“Sacrifice...summon…” you whispered to yourself. An evil grin spread across your face as you formulated a plan.

You rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out a dusty, ancient tome from the section Wanda had labeled “Cursed Spells & Failed Experiments” you had a vague recollection of them attempting a summoning spell from this book before, with comical results.

You flipped through the brittle pages, your eyes scanning for the summoning incantation. You paused, remembering your previous attempt—Wanda had mispronounced a keyword, causing a burst of colorful smoke and a very confused parrot to appear instead of the demon they intended to summon before you two bursted out laughing.

The spell was there, marked with a crude drawing of a demon and a large X through it. You snorted, remembering how Wanda had insisted that the X meant “extra powerful” rather than “do not attempt.” You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the strange feeling brewing in your stomach, you’re not gonna summon a demon right now, instead an entity that can revitalized Wanda’s plant, some creature of sort.

You laid out the required component; a candle, a small dagger, and what the book vaguely referred to as “essence of the earth.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the incantation, your voice low and gravelly. The ancient words felt foreign on your tongue, but you pressed on, determined to see this through.

“Spiritus sylvarum…”

The very fabric of Wanda's home began to tremble and shake. Pictures rattled on the walls, and the furniture groaned as if the house itself was protesting the unnatural summoning.

“Exumbrae ad me…”

You didn't stop, eager to complete the ritual. Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as you spat out the final words.

“Revigorare plantae et herbae, in nomine terrae matris…”

The darkness in the room seemed to coalesce, growing denser and more intense.

As the final words left your lips, a shockwave of dark energy exploded outward. The refrigerator rattled violently, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. You expected to see an ethereal nature spirit materialize before you. Instead, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with malice and amusement.

The figure solidified, revealing the demon in all her terrifying glory. Her skin was pale as bone, her features sharp and angular. Her auburn hair braided and she was clad in black armor that seemed to absorb the light. Her gaze fell upon you, her expression one of utter disdain.

Her gaze returned to you, her eyes roaming hungrily over your form. Her crimson gaze was like a physical caress, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the length of your legs. Her lips peeled back from his teeth in a predatory grin.

She is hungry.

Her gaze never left yours as she crossed her arms over her chest, affecting an air of nonchalance despite the hunger burning within her.

“Why am I being summoned upon, princess?”

You backed away involuntarily, your breath hitching in your throat. Her presence was overwhelming, her power pressing against you like a physical weight. You stammered, struggling to find your voice.

“I-I... I summoned you because... because…”

Your words tumbled out in a rushed, panicked mess.

“Ididntsummonademon!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged, your voice thick with desperation. You weren't sure if you were more afraid of her terrifying presence or Wanda's wrath if she found out you'd tampered with her precious plants.

“Why am I being summoned upon?” She repeated again, much firmer and scary this time.

“Pleasefixmyfriendsplant!”

She watched you with a cruel smirk, clearly enjoying your distress. She took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Aww, is the little mortal upset about a silly plant?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Her laughter echoed through the room, cold and mirthless. “You expect me, a mighty demon, to fix a mere plant?” she threw her head back, laughing harder at the absurdity of it all.

“Stupid, stupid humans,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Risking their lives for something so trivial.” She reached out, her long, pale fingers caressing your cheek, tracing the path of your tears.

“How adorable.”

Her laughter subsided, her gaze once again turning hungry as she took in your terrified state. Your fear was intoxicating, feeding her hunger and satisfying her more than any pleas for help ever could.

“Oh, princess, you don't know how much your fear pleases me,” she purred.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You know what else would please me?” She whispered, her voice a dark, seductive purr. “If you'd make a bargain with me. Anything, in exchange for fixing that pitiful plant.”

Her eyes glinted with eager anticipation as you nodded dumbly, your fear clouding your judgment. “Excellent,” she hissed, her voice barely containing her glee. “A contract, at last! I've been so hungry for one.”

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.” She paused, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She licked her lips, barely concealing her excitement as you nodded eagerly, surrendering yourself to the contract without a second thought. Your desperate obedience only fueled her hunger.

“Now let me see the thing that's worth risking your soul for.”

You turned around, pointing a shaking finger at the pathetic plant sitting on the table. Its once-vibrant leaves were now shriveled and brown, the pot cracked, and the soil dry and lifeless.

“Magical, but finicky little things, aren't they?” she observed, circling the withered plant like a predator. “Out of the soil for too long, and they'll perish in an instant.”

In a blink of an eye, the plant burst back to life, its vibrant green leaves unfurling as if they'd never wilted. She sneered, satisfied with her handiwork. She snapped her fingers, and Wanda's living room indeed, her entire house—was restored to pristine condition.

“There,” You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape. “And I've done more than you asked of me,” she purred, stepping closer. “I expect the same eagerness from you, princess.” Her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face up.

Your hand flew immediately to your neck, fumbling with the delicate chain until you pulled out an old, intricately carved locket. Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched it to your chest. “This... this is from my grandmother. She gave it to me before she passed away because it will protect me.”

Her green orb eyes narrowed as she listened, a flicker of interest sparking in their depths. She stepped closer, looming over you. “Your grandmother's necklace, you say? How... sentimental.” Her voice was a low purr, tinged with dark amusement.

The demon’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. She saw the pain and longing in your eyes, the struggle between your attachment to the heirloom and your desperate desire to have your friend’s plants restored.

“And how was this trinket supposed to protect you?” her voice was gentler, curious. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“My noo—my grandmother was a wise woman,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “She told me that as long as I wore it, I'd always have her love with me. That it would shield me from darkness.” You looked up at her, tears spilling down your cheeks.

She listened intently, studying your face as you spoke. A flicker of something almost like sympathy crossed her features before being quickly masked. She turned the delicate necklace over in her hands, examining it closely.

“Your noona... she’s found peace, princess. A paradise beyond the reach of this world's sorrows.”

You stared at her, shocked. Your jaw hung open, and your eyes widened. You had grown accustomed to her cold indifference and mockery. But this... this was something else entirely. A demon, an ice-cold demon, was comforting you?

She uncurled her fist, revealing the unscathed necklace. To your surprise, she stepped closer, her chilling presence enveloping you. Gently, she lifted the necklace, her fingers brushing against your skin as she secured it around your neck once more. She lingered for just a moment, her hot breath ghosting over your skin as she fastened the clasp with a soft click.

“There,” she said, her voice back to its usual detached tone. “Now, keep that... memento of your grandmother's love. I want something else in return.” Her gaze sharpened, refocusing on you. “Something... that you possess,” she finished, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion.

“A promise, perhaps. Or maybe a secret." She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I... I'm... I'm still pure,” you stammered, your cheeks flaming red as you confessed. It was the truth and a secret that not even your best friend knows.

Her eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across her face before her expression returned to its usual unreadable mask. “Interesting,” she murmured, leaning even closer. “So, all this time, you've been... untouched.”

She reached out, her cold fingers gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze once more. “And why is that, little one? Why have you kept yourself...pure?” her voice was barely a whisper, her breath chill against your lips. “Is it because…you're waiting for someone special?” She finished, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Or perhaps…” her other hand came up to rest on your waist, her touch searing even through your clothes. “...you simply haven't found anyone worthy of claiming your innocence yet?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You felt like she was peeling back layers of your soul, exposing your deepest fears and desires. Her hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you found yourself leaning into her touch without even realizing it. “Tell me, little one, have you ever toyed with your own innocence? Caressed your own flesh? Discover the secrets of your own body?” Her words were like velvet-covered steel, coercive and alluring, drawing out the truth you'd never spoken aloud before.

You turned your face away from her but her green orbs seemed to glow brighter. She leaned in closer, her gaze boring into yours, and suddenly, you felt a strange, invasive pressure against your mind. She was looking into your thoughts, seeing the truth laid bare.

She saw...everything.

She saw the night you’d snuck into your room, fingers trembling as you’d reached under your shirt to touch your small, untouched breasts. He saw your frustrated attempts to relieve the ache between your legs, your fingers fumbling and ineffective as you’d struggled to find any sort of release.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk as she withdrew from your mind, leaving you feeling violated and exposed. She brought her hand up to your face, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you poor, frustrated little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“All that fire, all that need, and nowhere for it to go. You’d touch yourself, so curious, so eager to learn... but your inexperienced fingers could never quite bring you the relief you craved, could they?”

Your reaction was immediate and visceral. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your heart skipped a beat as she spoke about your deepest secret.

“I will take your secret…and so is your purity.”

Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam as she sensed your hesitation and the war raging within you—the desire to submit to her dark temptations battling against your ingrained purity. She pressed her advantage, her hand sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt.

Shame and disgust at allowing a demon such intimate access warred with the undeniable pleasure of her touch. You felt pathetic, weak, as if you were betraying everything you stood for.

You shivered at the touch, your breath growing shallow as the cool air hit your bare chest. She leaned down and whispered, “No one will ever care for you like I will, my precious little human.”

Her eyes gleamed with dark triumph as she finished unbuttoning your shirt. She pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “That's right, my sweet. You're mine now, bound to me by contract until the day you die.”

“What a delectable prize you are.” She traced patterns on your chest, her fingers dipping down to your belly, then lower, to the tie of your pants.

With a sudden, brutal move, she pushed your legs apart and shoved you back onto the couch, pinning your shoulders to the cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, she was kneeling between your spread bare thighs, her face mere inches from your dripping pussy.

“Look at you,” she hissed, “So open, so ready. You may have sold your soul, but your body was made for me.”

She lowered her head, her cold tongue flicking out to lap at your heated flesh. You gasped, your hips bucking forward, only to be held down by her strong hands.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as you gripped them tightly, torn between the urge to push her away and the insidious pull to spread wider and invite more of her touch. You had, after all, sold your soul to her, hadn't you?

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as her cool, silken demon tongue delved into your wet folds. She licked up your juices, then pushed the tip of her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it as she sucked hard on your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as she ate you out with a fervor that left you breathless. The sensation of her cold, demonic tongue inside you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you found yourself pushing back against it, desperate for more.

“Oh God!”

“Even God won't help you right now princess…”

Your back arched, your body tension as an overwhelming wave of sensation crashed over you. You screamed, your voice hoarse with passion, as you convulsed against her mouth. She drank you down, her hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place as she continued to lap at your over-sensitive flesh.

She crawled up your body, she kissed and licked her way up your body, she left a trail of dark marks - hickeys and bite marks that would serve as her claim on you. She suckled at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your lower belly, the undersides of your breasts.

As she marked you, the dark bruises and hickeys seemed to glow with a faint, eerie light. The marks pulsed softly, as if infused with demonic energy. She claimed you as hers, marking you in a way that would be visible to all, a testament to her ownership.

“Mine.”

She slipped off you, her eyes never leaving yours. “I want you ready for me, always,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “When I come around, hungry...I expect you to be prepared. Understand?” She leaned down, her voice a silken growl against your ear.

“What's your name?” you asked, still weak from the pleasure.

“You’ll never know,” she said, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness.

In a blink of an eye she vanished, leaving behind an icy chill and an empty room. One moment she was there, her presence overwhelming, the next—nothing. No trace she'd ever been there, except for the glowing marks of ownership on your body.

You quickly gathered your scattered clothes, dressing hurriedly as you dashed out of the room. The cool air against your skin did little to soothe the heat that still coursed through your veins. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

Kneeling before the ancient book you had used for the ritual, you frantically flipped through the yellowed pages, your hands shaking. You scanned the text, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I have to break the contract…” you muttered, tears forming in your eyes as it darted back and forth, desperately searching for an answer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read the words, the implications washing over you.

“The contract can only be severed by a single path, when the summoner grasps the true name of the evil being they've bound, and utters it forthwith.”

“You’ll never know.”

⧗

Author's Note: I hope it makes sense why Natasha's name was not mentioned one bit in this fic...if not, here's an explanation.

[treasure-goblin]

Flipping the finger is a dangerous startle response to have ahhhhhhh

[jiminscockr1ng]

✩｡°𝄞🚨D-TOWN BABY 𝄞✨°｡✩

╝ •part one | part two ╔

╰₊𓂂➢ pairing: gang affiliated!yoongi x fem!reader

╰₊𓂂➢ genre: hood au, bother’s best friend au, smut, angst

╰₊𓂂➢ warn!ngs: use of the n-word, aave, [mentions of drugs, drug dealing, death, smoking and drinking], negligence due to use of drugs (reader’s mother), reader is heavily black coded, cat-calling, riding, oral (reader receiving), swallowing semen. (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊𓂂➢ summary: yoongi is apart of a gang called d-town, the gang your brother just so happens to be apart of.

╰₊𓂂➢ word count: 5,625 words

╰₊𓂂➢ author’s note: the inspiration came from me shouting “D-TOWN NIGGA!” at my sister while watching the Daechwita music video. lmao, i hope y’all enjoy it.

The headlights of your black honda civic shines on the group of men huddled together on the steps of the project building.

Smoking, drinking, talking and laughing loud as hell, and hitting licks.

You huff while turning your car off. Stepping out, your long, fern green skirt flows with the wind. Cleavage hanging out of your bohemian patterned shirt. As you approach the ran down project building you can hear the men on the stairs whistling at you.

You roll your eyes at the gang members who are shouting and cat-calling loud as hell— the whole block could hear.

“Damn Ma, can I get a 360?!” One of them call out. Before you could even flip him off, two familiar voices chime in.

“Chill, nigga.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They say at the same time. The two voices could easily be distinguished as Trey (your brother) and Yoongi (your brother’s best friend).

Or their street names: Tre D and Agust D. The ‘D’ standing for D-Town. To which you find corny as hell because you all literally live downtown. All these corny ass niggas’ names end with D.

Once you’re right in front of the group of men your brother nods his head at you. That’s just him acknowledging your existence. The two of you have a complicated relationship. It’s only complicated because you don’t like his lifestyle (respectfully) but he won’t stop gang banging.

Nonetheless, you’d still take a bullet for that man. Vice versa.

“Yo, _______.” Yoongi speaks. From the looks of it, you can already tell he’s about to say some stupid shit. He has that sorry ass smirk on his face and keeps glancing around at his little posse. Leaning your weight on to one leg, you simply arch your brow at him.

“You gon’ let me tuck you in?” Your stoic expression remains the same. A few giggles are heard and your brother shakes his head. Trey is more than used to Yoongi making advances at you— he’s been fiend out for damn there 8 years.

Yoongi looks you up and down, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. You smack your teeth and harshly brush past the men blocking your way up the stairs. Prior to entering the building you yell back at the long haired, pale man.

“Tuck your dick!”

SLAM! You slam the door shut, you can hear the distant instigating behind the door as you walk up the stairs to the shared apartment. Mumbling curse words on your way up.

Yoongi’s smirk never leaves, despite the instigation his crew nagged on about. He likes that shit. He loves it. Your hot temper and all of it. He knows that if he wanted to he could shut you right up. But you being mad at him kind of turns him on… so he’ll let you have it.

You’d prefer a nice and quiet, empty pathway to your home when you get off from work. You go through enough stress as it is. Another headache is exactly not what you needed.

Stepping foot into the dark apartment, you set your purse down and walk to your room, ready to get in the shower after a long day. The apartment is fairly big compared to the other units. More than enough space for you and your brother. Although, for the past year it’s really just been you occupying the space.

Trey is never home. He’s out and about being Tre D. He stopped coming home about a little over a year ago. It’s just gang related activities after the other, selling drugs, hanging out with D-Town and fucking random girls. Repeat.

It’s reasonable that you gave up on trying to stop him. He’s a grown man now and you can’t sit around all day to inspect your little brother’s everyday life to make sure he’s doing ‘the right thing’. He’s only 2 years younger than you but you always acted as a mother figure. Taking over that role after your mother got sprung out on crack and left you both.

Working your ass off everyday, feeding him and yourself, trying to make sure he’s doing well in school— all a waste of time. Now look. He’s outside of your shared apartment, probably not even going to come up stairs and is making way more money than you.

You regret the day he met those guys. And you regret even more when he dragged Yoongi along with him.

The thought of Yoongi makes you sigh. You pick up your towel to get in the shower, blasting Lauryn Hill as you lather your brown skin with smell-good soap. You manage to decompress in the shower. Tracking wet footprints to your bedroom as you approach the window, you look outside to see if they’re still there.

Yes. Yes they are. Your brother seems to be leaving and you can’t help but notice someone is missing from the gang.

And almost on queue— as if the devil himself set it up… you hear the front door opening. Letting out a groan, you go and peak out of your bedroom door.

“No need to hide, babygirl. Come on out.” Yoongi calls.

You roll your eyes before slamming your door. But like you figured, the door opens right back up and in comes Yoongi. He silently stands in front of the door after he closes it behind him, observing your figure that is semi-hidden behind the white towel you have on. Yoongi already has a little stiffy just by looking at you.

“Stop calling me babygirl you freak, I’m older than you.” You say, responding to the comment he made. He chuckles, walking over to sit on your bed while you apply lotion on your legs. He drops his duffel bag on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, by like a few months.” Looking down at him, you noticed that he’s man spreading, leaning on his arms that are propped up behind him on the bed. Refraining from gulping, you look away.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you continue on with your nightly routine, pretending that the fine man is not sitting on your bed ready to pounce on you the second you say go. You can hear shuffling behind you as you fix your locs, putting them in the ponytail.

“_______, I got you something.” He says and you reluctantly turn around. This man really doesn’t learn or care to catch a hint. In his hand is a book. A book that you’ve been searching for everywhere and is sold out.

“How…” is all you can mutter out. Out of all of Yoongi’s highly prestigious and unusual gifts he attempts to give you, this has got to be the best one yet. Best, because you actually wanted it. Not that that Birkin Bag was easy to donate— that was a struggle.

“Uh— I saw you were looking for this shit everywhere on your spam.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why the hell are you on my spam page?!”

“So I had drove damn there 2 fucking hours to get this shit.” He says, ignoring the previous question.

You love it. You want to snatch the book out of his long slender fingers, throw your bonnet on and start reading immediately. But—

“I can’t take that Yoongi.” The sentence isn’t something that he hasn’t heard before. You tell him every single time he comes up to your apartment trying to hand you something he bought for you. You never take shit from him and if you do, it gets donated almost immediately.

He scoffs. Honestly looking a little pissed off— fed up to be exact. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Didn’t you hear me, _______?” He stands up, book still in hand. “I drove 2 hours for a fucking book!” He exclaims.

It’s not like you’re meaning to be a bitch. You’d just rather not take anything that was bought with drug money. Even the book you’ve been dying to read for months.

“Listen Yoongi—”

“Agust D.” He corrects.

“I’m not calling you that shit!” A smile cracks onto his face. Just a small one. Because, as mentioned before, he loves that shit. But he’s still fed up.

“I can’t take that. It’ll be donated just like the other gifts you attempt to bribe me with.” You say and he sets the book on the bed, stepping closer to you. “I’m not bribing you _______. I just wanna spoil you, just let me do that.”

“No! I don’t want anything you or my brother buy with your fucking D-Town money. You can keep all of that shit!” You roar while waving your arms around. He sighs, running his fingers through his long black hair, letting it fall back in place. “Money is money, _______.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Yoongi.” Arguing with him back and forth is like arguing with a wall. You two could go on and on about the lifestyle he and Trey are choosing to live.

Yoongi walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don’t pull away. Despite how stubborn you are, you’d never deny Yoongi’s touch whenever you feel him. It’s instant stress relief.

“I’m trying, _______.” He calmly says in your ear. The disembodied voice— so husky yet smooth. It sends shivers down your back and all of the hair on your arms stand tall.

“Try harder then.”

“Why are you like this?” You scrunch your face up. “Like what?!” You can feel him shrug his shoulders behind you.

“Like… stubborn and petty.” Offended, you scoff.

“Stubborn and petty like your mama?” It was a quick little insult— a joke! Everyone says it. Plus, you had to think of a come back quick or else you know Yoongi would’ve known that you knew what he said was partially accurate. But when you feel the tight hold Yoongi had around your waist loosen… you knew you fucked up.

“You know my moms’ is dead.” You immediately twist your body around to face him, your towel nearly unraveling. You quickly catch it. “Omg, I did not mean it like that, for real. I was just saying shit!” You ramble on and on about how you don’t think before speaking and how sorry you are.

Then he laughs. Like actually laugh. Not a corny little smirk or the low chuckle he does when he’s around his boys— not even a light smile. He gave you his infamous, gummy smile, shoulder bouncing laugh. He even threw his head back for a second.

You really couldn’t help but smile. You missed that laugh. Having been reunited with it after so long makes you forget everything said and done. Because that’s the Yoongi you know, the Yoongi you grew up with, the Yoongi you loved. You smile at the taller man still looking at you with that cute gummy smile even after the laughter died down.

“Stop apologizing _______, I was just fucking with you.” You scoff but the smile never fades, even when you playfully punch his shoulder. “That’s not funny!” He nods his head in agreement as if he wasn’t just literally laughing his ass off.

“It was just funny seeing you speak like that. First time in mad long you didn’t have that stick that you love so much up your ass.” Looking up at him, you can’t even be mad at what he just said. Not when all the old feelings were suddenly rushing back in. The ones you fought off years ago.

“Yeah,” you switch your focus onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you laugh like that.” His fingers lightly grip your chin to lift your head back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart is doing backflips but in your head there are a million different alarms going off, screaming ‘abort!’.

“You always make me laugh. Whether I’m laughing around you or at home in my bed, laughing about something that you said. You make me…” He trails off making you furrow your eyebrows a bit.

“Make you what?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head, looking out of the window. You shove his shoulder to get his attention again. “Make you what?!” He looks down at his shoes as if the answer was written on them. They weren’t. You checked.

“You make me… hmmph.” He mumbles and you slap your hands on your naked thighs in frustration. You grip his face in your whole hand to get him to stop looking around the room helplessly, like a mother trying to force feed their child.

“What!” You scream.

“Happy!” He reciprocates the volume, eyes going wide when he finally lets the shit flow free. Your hand slowly drops from his face. “Damn— satisfied?” He sassily asks, rolling his eyes. Too in shock to even say anything, you just stand there with your eyebrows high, looking like a dumbass.

“_______,” he starts, earning you attention. So many thoughts sprint through your mind as you stare up into his sharp brown eyes. It’s really hard to believe that after everything, he still found happiness in you. You can’t recall the last time you felt happy in Yoongi’s presence. The man that you once loved. You and Yoongi never dated, never slept together, never really announced any feelings for each other either. The relationship the two of you had was unspoken. You knew the love was there— he did too, and that was enough.

“I need you to know, that I want you.” He says seriously. Your heart drops at the words. No.

No, not now. Why now?

“I want us, _______.” You could melt underneath his gaze. You feel yourself slowly folding. Ready to submit and give into him— give into your heart that’s been begging to be his for 7 years now. “Tell me you want this too.”

Yes, tell him you want this. Want all of him. Because you do… but you can’t. It’s not the same. This is not the same as it was 7 years ago. Yoongi isn’t the same. You can’t do it.

“I can’t— I don’t… want this.” You try to stand strong but you’re weak. Yoongi always did that to you. “You don’t or you can’t— which one is it?” He says, already knowing the answer. He needs to hear it from you though. You sigh, closing your eyes. “Yoongi—”

“No _______ tell me right now why you can’t just let us be happy?” Yoongi’s frustration is valid. But so is yours. You try to walk away from him, to get away, like those alarms that kept going off in your head a few minutes ago told you to do. But Yoongi isn’t having it. He already laid his heart out there, he just wanted you to take it— for it to be yours. So he grabs your arm. “Don’t walk away from me.” You yank your arm back immediately.

“I fucking can’t Yoongi! You want me to stand here, laugh, ‘kee-kee’ in your face. Tell you I want you and that I want this just for you to go back to the streets the next second someone calls you.” You’re out of breath from all of the screaming, no doubt the neighbors were gonna report. But you aren’t done.

“D-Town tells you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get your life together, to get off of the streets and I’m left with the same answer. I’m not gonna be one of those bitches that hold you down when you decide to get into some dumb shit and I’m damn sure not gonna be the person people have to get in touch with because their fucking boyfriend died doing some fuck shit.” The undertone of your face is red and your hands are shaking. “It’s bad enough my brother is in to deep. I’m not trying to have to worry about someone else.”

Yoongi’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes in everything you said. You’ve never been this vulnerable. With anyone. You’ve never said any of this to anyone but you don’t want to keep having the same interactions over and over with him.

“I understand.” Is all he says. And it’s all he has to say. You know he’s not gonna quit the streets until the streets quit him. After all, that’s how it works. But he really did understand and if that’s how you feel he won’t push it.

“Can I just lay with you?” Before you can even protest he raises his hands to clarify. “Just for tonight. Can you please… just do this for me? Let me lay with you.” You sigh, over analyzing the possibility. In the end you conclude it was fine. So you grab your pajamas and change in the bathroom. When you come back in, Yoongi is already laying in the bed. Shirtless and wearing nothing else but the pair of basketball shorts he had in his bag. The book resting on your nightstand.

Your pajamas includes a sage green tank top and a beige pair of cotton shorts. You lie next to him in your bed after cutting the lights off. His body instantly cuddles into yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out. “Your head is on my boobs.” He chuckles into the pair before raising his head to look at you. “You used to always let me lay on your boobs. They’re comfortable.” He says with a faint pout, poking your plushy boobs with his finger, making you flinch.

“Yoo— will you stop poking me!” You say frustratedly. “It tickles.” Yoongi perks up at that. “It tickles, huh?” He sings, continuing to poke you. His fingers pokes at your chest, your sides, your neck. You try to fight him off but your laughter is making you weak. “Stu— stop!” You cry out and he just giggles at your plea. It’s really over once he hovers his body over yours, locking yours in place underneath him.

Your face hurts from laughing so hard, can’t even manage to fight it anymore. The poking eventually stops but the soft giggles and toothy smile on your face doesn’t falter. Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as they bore into yours. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your lifted cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, _______.” He observes your features from above and his heart pounds against his chest. The pace aligned with yours. “Sometimes,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I forget just how pretty you are. So I come to bother you— just to see you. But when I have you this close… you make me want to leave everything else behind just so I can be with you.”

That’s all you really wanted. For Yoongi to leave all the bullshit alone. Maybe then you two could work.

But you know that all of this is just pillow talk. Yoongi would never do that. Not for you. Not for anyone. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Yoongi.” You speak mellowly. He lifts his head out of your neck to look at you again. “I can’t tell you how I feel now?” You roll your eyes. “You can but don’t sit here and lead me on to believing in a lie.”

He doesn’t respond. You feel his lips on your cheek. Eyes widening, you look at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“I’m not lying to you, _______.” He kisses your forehead. “Even with everything that happened, no matter what you say to me— I never told you a lie and I don’t plan to.” He leans in to give you another kiss but pauses. His face just an inch away. Your breath hitches at the close proximity, growing nervous when his eyes focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers softly against your lips. Your mind isn’t working. There’s no alarms blaring, no weird gut feeling, just you. Underneath him. Without much thought, you mutter a breathy “yes.”

He leans in, his lips molding perfectly with yours. It’s soft and passionate and you’re worried that you just might have a heart attack the way your heart is pacing. Your fingers travel their way through his long strands of hair as you happily taste the minty flavor of his mouth— covering up the taste of cigarettes. When he pulls away to catch his breath, you immediately pull him back down. Now that you got a taste of him, you don’t want to let it go.

The kiss starts getting heated when Yoongi rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him. His hands roam the surface of your back, letting them slip under your tank top. You bite on his bottom lip once you pull away, letting your soft brown hands travel up his abdomen to his solid chest. Your back arches as you leave open mouth kisses against his chest. He takes the opportunity to cup your ass into his hands, occasionally squeezing the fleshy rump.

You slightly shift your hips up against him to lift up. “Fuck,” Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. “Don’t move like that.” You furrow your brows in confusion but you quickly understand when you feel something poking your thigh. In shock, you shift again. A low groan leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he places his hands on both sides of your waist.

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, the action and the sound he let slip gave you that tingling feeling in your stomach, that familiar sensation fluttering in between your legs. You do it again. Wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Seriously, you don’t want this to go further than it already has.” True. You don’t, but you’re a little too lust filled to think straight. And the fact that Yoongi is hard as a rock underneath you has you wet. Grinding your clothed sex onto his bulge.

“Yo, I—”

“Shut up.” You say, placing your hands on his chest to support yourself as you grind against him. The lewd sounds that escape from both of your mouths flood the room. Yoongi’s basketball shorts get bunched up in the process, the repeated action dragging the band down, exposing his boxer briefs underneath.

You lift your hips up to pull the shorts down but Yoongi stops you. He sends you a warning look that reads, ‘don’t do this.’

Regardless, you enthusiastically yank them and his boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick stand tall against his lower stomach. “_______, you’re confusing me.” He says while you’re busy scrapping to get the clothing from around his ankles, satisfied when they hit the floor. You turn around, looking down at him once again.

“You’re confused? Hm, I thought you were hard.” Speaking sarcastically, you turn your focus onto Yoongi’s member. You grip his length in your hand, brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip making Yoongi twitch.

“A little bit of both honestly. I mean, mostly hard but— woah woah woah, stop!” Yoongi panics once you put your mouth on his dick. He immediately sits up, his back resting against the head board. “I’m not doing this with you.” He says, to which one of your eyebrows flick up.

“Why not?” You scoff. “You don’t seem to have any problem fucking all these other bitches.” Yoongi lets out an unamused laugh, wiping his hands over his face. “You’re not other bitches. You don’t throw yourself on my dick.”

“I just did!” Technically, you did.

Yoongi scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. “It’s not the same thing. You’re invested in this _______ and you know it.” You turn your head away from him, not wanting to hear the truth. “I don’t need you to have another reason to hate me.” Rolling your eyes—

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shake your head, scooting closer to him. “I’m not. I don’t hate you, Yoongi.” You repeat, your fingers go to his hair and you focus on the way his dark hair fall on your skin before looking at him again. “And right now… I’m horny, so.” You sit in front of him, anticipating his response.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay, what?” He grabs your waist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your lips lock onto his again and this time, the pace quickens. Yoongi’s hands reach for your tank top to pull it over your chest, you lift your arms as he pulls it off, slinging it across the room. Like clockwork, you drag your shorts down as well, tossing them in the corner without a care in the world.

Yoongi’s hands roam all over your body. Taking in the feel of your body being close to his. He retracts from the kiss to drool over your body. His pale hands over your brown skin, the only source of light coming from the window. “What do you want me to do, _______?” He asks, palming your breast in both hands. You bite your lip as you look down at him touching you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask in a whisper and you could’ve swore you felt Yoongi’s dick twitch on your thigh right after the words fell off your tongue. He felt like doing a backflip. An ability he doesn’t have but that’s how you make him feel. It’s just like you to want to ride him— it being your first time even having sex with each other.

“Fuck yes.” You let out a giggle at Yoongi’s expression before leaning over to open the top drawer of your nightstand. His eyes travel with your every movement. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a condom.” You popped out. He purses his lips at that. “Guess I’m not the only one you’ve been wrestling in the sheets with.” Looking back at the man with the condom in your hand, the jealous look on his face makes you want to run over to your phone to take a picture. Instead you laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say, ripping open the packet. “I bought them because they’re a necessity. I’m not fucking anyone— but i’m glad I did buy them.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “I’d rather not have the neighborhood’s dick in me raw.”

It’s almost comedic the way his jaw drop. “Neighborhood’s dick is cuh-razy!” Slipping the condom on his length, you let out a giggle. Once you’ve got it on all the way you grip his shoulders, lifting your cunt over it. “It’s okay,” you jokingly reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you a good rating.”

“Oh, you got jokes— oh shit.” His demeanor changes once you rub his tip against your wet slit. “Are you—,” He reaches out to drag a finger through your folds. “You’re mad wet.” He states the obvious and when he pulls his finger away, your arousal drags with it. Without a second thought, he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to taste you. A low moan leaves his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours.

“You ready or did you change your mind?” You shake your head slowly, feeling more aroused than ever. “I’m ready.”

Once again, you maneuver his length through your folds before aligning it at your entrance. You take a deep breath and Yoongi’s hands rub your back. You slowly lower yourself down his length, feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. Your mouth falls agape when his full length is inside of your cunt.

After a few more rounds you get used to it. Yoongi stares at the action of your pussy swallowing his length. Your pussy is so tight around him, he’s afraid he might cum too fast.

He curse in your ear as you begin to ride him faster. “Fuck— you’ve been holding back on me for all these years.” Yoongi moves his hips, helping thrust into you. Your tits jump along with you as you bounce on his cock. So deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes throughout the quiet apartment.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You moan out and Yoongi feels himself growing light headed. “You’re making me go crazy, _______.” He slams into your pussy faster— harder. At this point you weren’t even moving. Yoongi was the one in control of your body.

Especially when he moves you off of him, switching positions to take full control. You lie on your back, abandoned pussy and all. “Yoongi, put it back in.” You beg.

He shushes you before bending down, face in between your legs. His mouth attacks your wet cunt. He flatten his tongue to fully taste your sex. Licking and sucking all of you. His mouth sucks on your clit making you scream out in pleasure while his three fingers abuse your hole. “Yoongi, fuck that feels so good.” He slightly smirks up at you.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.” He says lowly. You could’ve came right then and there just from how sexy he said it. All dominant and territorial. The way he looks— his long dark hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Yuh— oh my god!” You moan out as your legs begin to shake at the overwhelming stimulation of his mouth and fingers.

“Tell me.” He demanded a bit louder.

“Yours Yoongi! It all yours, mm.” His fingers moves faster and you grip the sheets for moral support. “F- Fuck me Yoongi. I want your dick inside me.” It doesn’t take long before he obeys. He lifts up, just before you could orgasm and slides his hard dick inside of you. With Yoongi in control now, the pace is much faster. He lifts one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder for better access.

Going deeper inside of you, hitting all of the right spots. You pull him down towards your body, your nails digging into his back, creating little crescent moon shaped marks. Chest to chest, Yoongi penetrates your pussy as the two of you share a feverish kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.” You say against his lips, out of breath. He rapidly nods his head. “Cum, mm.” His thrusts slow down, instead he makes sure to go deeper, hitting your spot repeatedly, making your legs shake around him. “Cum for me, _______.”

A few thrusts later and you cream on his dick. He pulls out, slips off the condom and starts stroking his dick. You place your hands over his, moving your mouth towards his tip. When the long drags of warm semen pour out you catch every drop of it. Mouth wide open, tongue out— you swallow his cum. Licking the tip afterwards for good measure.

Yoongi’s heavy breathing fills the room as he collapses on the bed. You get up to throw the used condom out and to collect your pajamas off the floor, walking with a bit of a limp. You toss Yoongi his basketball shorts before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and changing.

When you come back, you find Yoongi already in his basketball shorts lying on the bed still. “Not gonna dip?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant. You don’t want him to go but you don’t need him to know that. You were just awfully vulnerable and something similar to regret is already creeping up on you.

“Naw, why would I?” You shrug before laying in bed next to him. Not even being able to position yourself, he makes sure he cuddles into you, your face close as hell to his. “So how was the neighborhood’s dick?” He jokingly asks, laughing after. You lightly punch his chest.

“I’m not finna play with you Yoongi.” Yoongi serves you a feigned pout. “Awe, you regretting it already?” You don’t say anything because you really don’t know if you are. You don’t regret the sex because— fuck that was amazing. Best dick you ever had and you really will give him a good rating. However, the things that were said could’ve stayed unsaid. You shared too much vulnerability and that’s not something you’re comfortable with. The last thing you need is Yoongi to throw any of that shit back up in your face.

“I don’t regret it.” You conclude. His arms wrap around your waist tighter, grabbing one of your legs to wrap it around him. “But it won’t happen again. This was a one time thing.”

“But you swallowed my cum.” He pouts again and for some reason you don’t think it’s feigned this time. So you lightly smack his lips. Too much of a distraction.

“Because I didn’t want to get my covers dirty, you freak.” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “So now I’m back to being a freak.” You sigh because it seems like he’s purposely not paying attention to what you’re actually trying to say.

“Yoongi.” You say seriously making him nod his head. “Okay, I got it. it was a one time thing.” Despite his display of understanding, you can’t help but hear the underlying disappointment in his voice.

You lay in his arms for hours. Neither of you fall asleep, replaying the previous events in your head. You debate with yourself whether or not you’re being in denial, too petty, stubborn, unreasonable. Whether or not you should give Yoongi a chance. Because right now you feel safe. Right now, everything is okay while your head rests against his beating chest. Right now…

“AGUST D GET YO’ ASS DOWN HERE NIGGA!”

You jump. You and Yoongi both lift up— your face of shock is a bit different from his. He knows what it is and you think you do too. That’s why you’re shook as fuck. The shouting and calling through the window doesn’t stop. And when Yoongi arms unravels from your waist, your heart sinks.

“What is that?” You ask.

And when that same, familiar, sorry ass, corny ass smirk that you hate so damn badly form onto Yoongi’s face… you knew.

“That’s D-TOWN BABY.”

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