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bunnys-kisses · 2 months ago

Text

boxers

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut/pwp, boxing au, boxer!simon, injury/bruises, protective!simon, size difference, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, gentle sex, simon luvs his missus,

you liked strong men. strong however was a broad definition. thought a man could be strong in a lot of ways, not just physical. strong convictions, strong emotionally, there were many examples.

but when you started seeing simon, you were enthralled by his physical strength. he wasn't some eight pack having, dehydrated mess. he was bulky, which was good for what he did.

punch the living daylights out of other boxers.

wide shoulders, a softness in his stomach, strong arms with one lined with tattoos. not to mention those thighs, he could crush a watermelon with them if you asked nicely (no, he wasn't going to crush your head). the facial scars add a scary look as did those dark eyes of his.

despite it, simon was a total sap.

at least to you, no one else. god forbid johnny or any of the others. but when it was just the two of you, he was a big puppy. you once described him as a huge german shepherd who thought he was a lap dog.

simon simply said, "just be glad i don't wanna sit on your lap, love. i'll break ya." then pulled you to him to give you a kiss on the forehead. he'd never hurt you though, he'd rather take his own life than yours.

and you loved him back, even with his loud snoring, you still adored him. you thought that he was the perfect boyfriend. which was why it hurt so much when he came home late at night with bruises on his face.

"si."

he dropped his bag and let you get in his arms. he kissed the top of your head lovingly. and welcomed your embrace. the man had enough fractures and scars. so to see another shiny bruise only left you feeling sad.

you brought him to the kitchen by his hand and sat him down at the kitchen table. he looked so large in the small space, which really highlighted your size difference.

"c'mon, pretty thing." he said as held out his arms to you.

you looked over your shoulder from the freezer, "give me a second, honey. i need to find the frozen peas."

simon groaned. he wanted to touch his woman. he cursed the universe that the frozen peas were in the back of the freezer. you managed to grab the bag before you turned to your boyfriend.

you sat in his lap and pressed the frozen vegetable to his bruised face, "poor baby." you cooed as you gave the bag to him.

he hissed a little at the feeling of it against the heat of the bruise. you rested your head on top of his and held him close to your chest

"do i need to talk to anyone?"

he chuckled, "no, love. i just need you right now. i wanna feel my woman." he nuzzled up against your chest. he even kissed the little gold chain around your neck.

eventually the peas started to melt and you put them back in the freezer. however with your back turned to your lover, you didn't notice his approach towards you.

he cornered you against the fridge with his large, scarred hands on your hips. he let out a shudder, "i need you." his voice sounded a little strained.

you swallowed as you kept your hands on the front of the fridge. you could feel his cock pressed against your ass. the rush was the fight was wearing off, but he needed another release.

"you could've just asked, riley."

he curved his back over you to lean in to kiss your neck. his hands traveled north to your breasts and groped them. the flesh filled his hands, his grip was a little rough. but, you didn't mind that.

"i know, love. but i couldn't find the words. i just needed you." his voice was like driving over gravel. it left you hot all over.

you blushed a bit at his words. you turned so you front was facing him. you took his face in your hands and brought him in to kiss his bruise. you said, "si-"

"please." he said as he curled an arm around you middle and brought you closer to him. your hands were splayed across his broad chest. he pulled you into a kiss and you had to get on your tip-toes to meet his lips.

he held you by your middle, his strong arms draped around your waist. he groaned against the kiss, "mine." his voice was as light as it could be.

you really had no choice. it was either you fucked on the bed or up against the fridge. and you knew the landlord would not want to deal with that. so you got out of your boxer boyfriend's grasp and took him by the hand. then you practically dragged him to your shared bedroom.

his eyes were on you as you walked. he felt his cock stir in his pants. you were just so good to him. you were the perfect girl for him. it made him smirk to himself even if it did hurt a little.

he watched your beautiful body on display for him as you tugged off the oversized shirt (that belonged to simon) and baggy sweatpants (that were yours, because his were two sizes too big!). he put his hands on your hips, feeling the softness under his finger tips.

he leaned in a down at you and kissed your cheek. he squeezed your hips and groaned against you, "pretty girl." you trailed your fingers through his blond hair.

your core throbbed for him, your heart leapt when he got a better grip on you and almost tossed you onto the bed. you bounced a little and laughed. "simon! no need!"

"i need ya love, you were takin' too long." he quickly got his shirt off. he hit his nose in the hustle of it all, but was too wrapped up in his deep lust for you that he didn't even wince at the pain, "c'mon, love. either you get them off, or i'm rippin' em of!"

usually he liked to slowly take off your bra and panties, but tonight was an inferno. a huge fire that burned in his core. his heart thumped as he go the buckle of his belt off and he slid the leather off from his waist. he watched you hastily get your underwear off and laid underneath him.

"i wanna see my girl on top." he said as he leaned in for a searing kiss and grabbed you to put you on top of him while he laid on the bed. you were both naked, two pieces of the same puzzle.

you moved so your pussy brushed up against him. he let out a choked groan as you didn't fully sink down him. he could feel his heart up into his throat.

it should be illegal for you to do that, and punishment for it is to get dicked down for five hours.

"like that, si?"

"if i wasn't so worry about breakin' ya, you'd already be ridin' it." he loved when you were on top. the sight of your eyes on him as you hold onto him for a leverage as you rode him.

"si." you smiled as you splayed your hands on his chest and sank down onto his cock. you could feel your heart in your throat as you sank yourself down on his impressive size. you choked out a moan and felt the pleasure pollute your head.

"that's it, baby girl." he said softly. his voice was a rumble in the back of your head like thunder. he guided your hips. he wanted to see close to his missus.

your big scary boyfriend. close to being the number one fighter in the league. the big shot. the ghost. there he laid under you, his eyes closed and his body melting into the bed. his hands your hips as he slowly guided them up and down. your cunt felt like a comfortable vice around him, he could hear the hitch in your breathing when he hit just the right spot.

what a beauty, the most loveliest woman he had ever laid his eyes on. that's why you were his woman, the only one he wanted. through hell and high water, to the moon and back. he kept his hand steady on your waist as you moved up and down on his cock.

you could hear your heart thumping in your ears from the blood rush of having sex with him. the most handsome man you ever had the privilege of loving. you held onto him for support as you raised and lowered your hips against pelvis.

you felt the curl of pleasure in your gut as his cock prodded at your most intimate parts. he felt so right. that was your man, as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips, you felt the inferno in your gut.

you felt hot and heavy all over, you felt the rush of pleasure echo through your body as you moved against him. he was your simon, the bloodied boxer, the ghost of the ring. he came home to you every night, he kissed you until you fell asleep in his arms, he brought you home flowers on tuesdays and always cooked dinner on sundays.

that was your charming bloke who punched people for a living. with his scars on his cheeks and lips, the crookedness of his nose, those piercing brown eyes and all the love he could give you. while he didn't believe it was much, it was more than you ever wanted.

"si"

"love."

you pulled him in for another hot kiss as you bounced more on his cock. the stabbing of his cock in you made you feel lightheaded, there was so much to fit in you. everything about simon felt big, from the meat on his shoulders to the width of them. his strong arms that were now wrapped around your middle, to of course his cock that was filling any gap in your pussy.

you dug your nails into his tanned skin and you let out a loud moan as simon clutched onto you and continued to push his cock up into you. it made you see stars as he moved.

"that's my woman." he huffed, "bright beauty." his voice drew as he bounced you on his cock. even if the pain in his face was still there, the sight and feeling of you around his cock managed to dull the pain. who thought pussy was a good cure for a bruise.

he pulled you closer to him, until your chest was against his. simon bent his knees and got a different angle to hit the back of your soaked cunt, "been thinkin' about my missus all evening. probably why my game got thrown off. was thinkin' about this sweet treat rather than johnny's punches." he chuckled as he managed to fuck you faster.

you whined, you didn't want to be the cause of simon getting hurt. but he quieted you down with a searing kiss. he didn't need to hear that, he wanted to hear your pussy getting fucked by him.

the angle made your head a little dizzy as you tried to keep some more of control. but it was too late, simon had already dominated your little pussy yet again. it was alright though, the feeling left shivers through your body.

he continued to make out with you, the kisses were sloppy and needy. it made your cunt ache as he rocked into you. the bed shifted under you two as you continued to make love.

simon loved you. he'd never hurt a hair on your head, even a chipped nail was a cause of concern for him. he kissed at you hot face as he felt you grow tense around him.

a few hard thrusts later and you were clamping down on him, orgasm pulled from you and you felt hot all over. the pleasure left your head swimming. you panted wildly as he continued to move against you.

he gave you filthy praise as he felt his own orgasm come over him. with a heavy thrust into you, he slammed his cock all the way into you and finished. spurts of cum hit the inside of your pussy and he left out a harsh grunt.

he dropped his arms down onto the bed and laid fully out. you clung to him and his cum clung to your pussy lips. you both laid there, basking in each other's embrace.

you leaned up and kissed him gently on his bruise, "my boxer." your fingers dragged down his chest, "you have to be careful. i hate when my man gets hurt." you kissed him on the cheek under the bruise, "i need you to come back to me in one piece."

simon's cock soon slipped out of your pussy and you softly kissed him on the lips. he said to you between kisses, "i always come home to my love. i love you so much." his words were like honey that melted to your core.

you laid in each other's hold. he had been a fighter all his life, but now he was simply yours. wrapped up in the comforts of bed, the bruises would heal but your love for him would be eternal. <3

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nnight-dances · 3 months ago

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ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer.

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing.

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision.

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep."

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now.

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat.

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties.

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him.

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to."

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh.

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior.

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours.

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…?

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :)

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you

bin: …

bin: i love you too

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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

Note

Just bunny reader going into heat, asking her wolf boys Katsuki and Izuku to double-pen her because her screaming insides just can’t get enough<3

BNHA ! POLY ! THIRST

Bakugou Katsuki x darling x Midoriya Izuku

WC: 1.5k

TW: NSFW, yandere, dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, vulnerable reader, oral, double penetration

“Bunny, we’re home~” Both called in tune once stepping through the threshold.

Balancing grocery bags cradled in all four arms – Deku with keys in hand, followed by Katsuki slamming the door shut with a nudge of his foot.

Stepping towards the kitchen to put everything down, they both gave each other a look as if to ask the other where you were. Usually, you’d come padding – shyly but surely – to welcome them home like you knew was expected of you. But this time, you were nowhere to be seen or heard.

That is… before the scent in the air caught their nose.

A scent that went straight to their loins, making both their eyes go ink-black and opium-blown.

“D’you smell that, Kachan?” Izuku asked with a breath, placing the groceries down on the kitchen aisle with a thud – nose raised in the air and lips parted.

Katsuki cracked a grin in return, dropping his own bags down alongside the other two – licking his teeth. “Oh yeah~ I fuckin’ smell that.”

You had your head drowned in the sheets, frenzied – clutching the dirty laundry to your face while rubbing on it desperately, keeping it hugged tight between your thighs – your back in a slope with your springy little tail dancing in the air.

“Bunny-baby? We’re home~”

Their voices had you halt – reaching you through your fever – ears shifty, nose twitchy, eyes peeled.

“Tsuki? Zuku?” You called out in a hopeful whine – muffled in the laundry pile before you popped out of hiding, a head of tousled hair and a pair of puffy eyes on a face riddled with despair.

Naked and shifty – you looked a mix of manic and relieved when seeing them.

“Help me-” You sobbed, thighs remaining pressed and quaking, your bottom lip blubbering, lop ears more lopped than usual, hanging droopily, framing your cute little face like a portrait.

“Aw~ Poor thing~” Izuku drawled in a purr – feeling thrills carve up his spine and the quickening beat of his heart spread to every corner of his body – blood hot and thickening, rushing straight to his cock, growing heavy and taut in his pants.

You crawled over in a rush, slipping in and on the mess of clothes you’d made on the floor surrounding you. Shuffling the rest of the way on your knees until you reached the nearest of the two – your hands attacking his hips.

Almost making him stumble back, you began messily unbuckling his belt – desperate in your haste.

“Easy, Bunny- no need to rush~” Katsuki teased – having been the closest one you could get your hands on.

“It hurts- please… don’t be cruel- just… take it off-” You whined in a whimper – wrangling off his belt in a struggle – your fingers shaking desperately, hastily when tugging down his boxers to be met with his already fat and straining length arched and bobbing proudly against his stomach.

You wasted only a split-second, locking your mouth around the length at once when it reared its round head – sucking the tip eagerly and urgently – aggressively enough to make Katsuki suck his teeth.

A shuddering moan escaped you next, followed by other blissful sighs when swallowing the taste. Continuing to suck rhythmically while feeling it soothe every flaming fiber throughout your body. Traveling down to your lower belly – making you flutter around nothing while slick escaped you, layered on your inner thighs.

Katsuki sighed then, halfway in relief and the other half in pleasure as you settled – having felt a flare of terror, thinking you were about to bite his cock off before you started sweetly glucking – your hot mouth full of drool and teeth tucked behind soft billowy lips.

He cupped your head in his paw, but it wasn’t necessary – you were determined enough on your own without his help. Nips perky as you swallowed him down to the base and hollowed your cheeks in a tight chock around him – hungry for it – needy and possessed by the white promise stored within the big beautiful sack of balls swaying with weight against your chin. A promise already coming through in sweet pre-spills making your mouth water and eyes roll back beneath your lids.

Tits bouncing as you moaned around his shaft – eyes closed and swept into a blessed state of frenzy at the taste with one hand between your thighs, touching yourself, and the other reaching for Izuku, becking him over with needy little grabs to the air.

He unzipped himself for you, making the jump from Katsuki to him swift and easy for you – taking him in your mouth with a needy whine and a continuous string of whiney suckling mewls as you hurriedly sucked off and swallowed all the precum leaking from his head.

Your cotton tail wagged impatiently behind you, swapping between the two cocks while they silently smiled down at the view – both keeping an endeared hand on each of your lop ears, rubbing them encouragingly while watching you pop off one cock with a smack before downing the other in a gulp – chuckling at you when you eventually began desperately trying to press them both passed your lips.

Hot tears on your face, feeling your lower belly fold at the horrid emptiness inside – aching from the starving hunger that all but started to eat itself.

“Please-” You begged. Naked and dewy with sweat, blushed and drunken with tears glossing your cheeks, all puffy as you rolled back against the dune of soft laundry beneath you – thighs spread wide while you touched yourself with both hands between them. “Please, I need you~ both~ here, please~”

Their ears spiked at your request, tails swishing behind them while the purr in their gut grew into a growl. You’d grown comfortable with them lately, and it showed – even in heat, you’d never been so brazenly lewd before.

“Please, it hurts- hurry~” You continued pleading, quaking where you lay with your lip tucked between your teeth and big eyes glistening, full of distress and prayer. Every inch of skin coated in something wet – pills of dew and streaks of tears, the rest a slick honeyed sheen – begging to be touched and tasted.

They both lay down in the laundry. Crawling over on either side of you, each lifted and held a thigh to their chest, spreading you open – their minds in the same place, casting each other a heated glance while reaching for your pussy with their hands first - Katsuki working the clit while Izuku pumped your hole on two thick fingers.

“No- I want cock~ I need cock-” You protested with a whine, shaking your head while writhing between the two. Thighs tensing, trying to close while trembling small hands dove down to swat at their bigger ones.

“No, no, no-” Katsuki tutted, swirling your clit beneath rough fissures, making your hips buck. “Be a good bunny and cum first.” His voice a gravely guttural – having your toes curl, and fists clench.

“I can’t- not without cock-” You sobbed, head thrown back and nearly screaming before Katsuki shoved three fingers in your mouth, muffling any and all sounds you had – reducing them to sweet mews where you promptly started licking and suckling the digits for comfort.

“That’s it, don’t be a bratty bunny- you know the rules.” He soothed, continuing to flick your clit while your thighs trembled around them. “No cum, no cock.”

Deku fondled your chest while your cunt made out with his fingers, sucking and slicking them up. Hole fluttering, walls velvety and wet, spongey, milking him for more. Soon tightening up – choking – leaving no room.

You made a whine, feeling the coil in your lower tummy pull and tighten – getting so hot and knotted before snapping – breaching and bursting and gushing all over the hands who’d made it happen – leaving you to twitch and moan around the fingers stuffing your mouth.

“Good bunny~” Izuku cooed, retracing his slicked fingers with a wet shlick. His eyes fixated on the arousal coating the digits – connected to your cunt in strings where you fluttered around nothing. He swallowed thickly, feeling his cock do a jump of impatience. “Now you get your reward.”

Katsuki pulled away from your mouth, wrapping the spit-glossed fingers around his needy shaft instead. Eyes on your dewy face – watching pills of sweat run from your forehead, similar droplets leak from the corner of your eyes, and other trails of spit trickle from your mouth where you were shakily left panting.

“You still want this?” He whispered as both of them lined their cocks up alongside each other, ready to press inside you.

“Yes, please-” You sniffled, biting your lip while watching the sight – feeling everything inside you scream for it. “Give it to me~”

Izuku felt his curls stick to his face and the beating of his heart take another leap. You were being so cute and needy he could barely think straight enough to doubt if they’d both even fit. Right now, everything just seemed so right that nothing could go wrong.

“Okay, bunny-” He swallowed thickly, followed quickly by Katsuki’s grunt. “You asked for it…”

Snuggling closer until their heads touched yours, hot breaths and lips and teeth and tongue licking your throat – sucking the scars left by their bites while beginning to push. Eyes no longer green and red but purely black – slowly sinking inside inch by inch, feeling you cramp around them as a squeal left you.

Back lifting, arching off the ground as you grabbed for their hands – crushing their fingers tight.

You squeezed your eyes shut whilst they held their eyes wide – watching their cockheads fight for space inside you in one massive belly bulge.

tip-jar: Kofi

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nekrosdolly · 11 months ago

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enemy's daughter (18+)

albert goes after chris's daughter.

a/n; @thatgirlgames who said i was teasing? also teehee i love old man wesker sorry guysss

cw; creep!wesker, afab!reader, major age gap (reader is 21, wesker is 61), circa 2021 aka re8, wesker lives au, unsafe sex (p in v), creampie, brief nipple play, clitoral stimulation, fingering, door sex, slight breeding kink, praise and degredation

petnames used; little dove, dearest, angel

you still haven't told your dad about your boyfriend, but honestly, you don't think he needs to know. not like he ever asks, or checks in with you, anyway. growing up, you'd rebel to get his attention, but this is your best try yet.

you're dating the albert wesker, the one your dad swore he killed back in 2009. what a stupid idea, you know, but you're head over heels for the much older man. every touch warms your chest, that feeling travelling up and warming your cheeks, too. it's a different kind of high, getting the attention of an older, dangerous man that your father absolutely despises. in some weird way, being with an older guy makes you feel safe. when albert wraps his arms around you, his toned forearms warm on your stomach even through your shirt, you feel… good. you don't think about what's troubling you as much. you feel light, and like you can relax because he's got you.

he makes you go dumb in many ways. his favorite way is take you by the waist and press a kiss to your forehead, muttering about "what a good girl" you are. the way your eyes gloss over and your cheeks flush pink makes his cock hard in his leather pants. every time you give him that look, it takes all of him to keep from fucking you wherever you may be. you knew you were in for it the first time he said it for you, because he's never let you live it down since.

you just hope your dad doesn't come home to see wesker when his restraint fails. like now.

albert hasn't bothered to undress you properly as he presses you against your front door, your tits squished against the fiberglass composite exterior with your back arched, his hips flush with your own as he rips your tights open by the gusset. fleetingly, you mourn the loss of another pair of tights.

"baby," you whine as he grips your hips with one hand, the other coasting around to and down your tummy to cup your cunt through your sinfully sheer underwear. you're wet, but what's new? you've been wet since you greeted him at the door, hours prior, and now as he's about to leave. of course, he can't leave you without giving you some of his cum.

"i know, dearest, i know." he murmurs, his hard-on throbbing in the confines of his pants. they're becoming uncomfortable, his precum forming a wet patch in his boxers. he needs you now.

the hand on your hip moves, slipping under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to lightly pinch your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you as you press your cheek against the door. your knees are hardly supporting you at this point. his hand cupping your cunt moves the gusset of your panties aside, two long and cold fingers moving between your wet folds, pushing into your weeping cunt with ease. gummy walls flutter and clench, a breathy noise leaving you. the heel of his hand bumps against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, the friction bringing you ever closer to your impending orgasm.

you don't really have time to be doing this, though. your father is due home in ten minutes.

just as you get close, your cunt sucking in his fingers with every welcome thrust, he rids you of them and instead forces them in your mouth, his other hand leaving your body to undo his belt and nearly tear his fly open. he skips taking them off, favoring pushing them down just enough for his cock to be let free. it's leaking something fierce, even as he drags the fat head through your folds as a warning before sheathing himself fully inside you.

the stretch brings about an unwelcome burn that melts into pleasure within seconds as he starts thrusting with the desperation of a dying man. as much as he'd love to surprise your dad with you impaled and drooling on his cock, on edge and ready to cum, he'll save that for another day. he's too preoccupied with how your cunt sucks him in, how you whine and dig your nails into the tough material of the front door, the brass doorknob digging uncomfortably into your thigh. if he could keep you this dumb, this sedated from his cock forever, he would.

you're all but drooling, every thrust forcing a sinful sound from the depths of your throat. the lewd squelching noise you two make together only adds to the intensity, how he's so rough with you. his whispers in your ear, praise mixed with filth, make you squeeze him extra nice.

"such a sweet girl, angel. my dumb little dove, already drooling just from my cock," he croons in your ear, hardly breaking a sweat as you draw nearer to your climax. you nod, fucked out and dizzy.

"mhm- m'gonna c-cum- fuck-" you scratch at the door just as the pad of his middle finger circles your puffy clit, his free hand nearly crushing the bones in your hips. he groans quietly, just barely audible but with the close proximity it's hard to miss.

you cum with a final cry of his name, your kneels threatening to buckle below you. he bites your pulse point, stifling the moan he lets loose as the coil in his own stomach tightens. he's not going to pull out, either. he never does, in hopes of knocking you up, and he knows you're ovulating. you made the mistake of telling him so just a few days ago and he hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

you're whining that it's too much, that your dad is almost home and that you two need to stop really soon. he cums not a moment later, not stopping as he fully intends on fucking his spend as deep as possible into you. his cock pokes your cervix and you yelp, briefly realizing that nobody's ever done that to you before.

just as quickly, he's tucking himself into his pants and hoisting you up in his arms to place you on the couch. he pecks your lips before rushing out the door with a brief "goodbye", leaving you stuffed with his cum and dizzy in the middle of your living room. you hear his car start and peel out of the driveway, just as your dad texts you that he's almost home. you let your eyes flutter shut as you turn on your side, falling asleep shortly after.

when you wake up, you've got a blanket over your lower half and your dad's sitting in his recliner, glass of bourbon in hand and a cigarette in the other. he doesn't need to tell you that he knows what happened.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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withleeknow · 11 months ago

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wishful thinking. (03)

chapter three: puzzle pieces

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; unprotected sex (this is fiction, not real life. don’t do it kids), oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, cum eating, praise kink if you squint???, could’ve been edited a bit more but oh well i tried lol word count: 3.2k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › series masterpost › taglist

If loving you’s a crime Cuff me up, I’ll do my time for you, girl When I make you mine (when I make you mine) Didn’t come all this way just to waste your time

Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

It wouldn’t have taken that long to walk to your apartment. And normally, you would welcome the brisk night stroll with friends, basking in the chilly but pleasant air as you wander the empty streets, with nothing but the glow of everlasting youth for warmth every time the wind breezes by.

Though tonight you had opted to hail a taxi back to yours after leaving the club. You’re not an impatient person and neither is Minho, but whenever you’re around him, waiting always seems to be the hardest thing to do.

The entire time you were in the car, his hand was on your leg, the touch seemingly innocent at first, until his fingers started trailing higher and higher, until his hand was gripping your inner thigh. His knuckles brushed against your core at one point, and you had to summon every last bit of control not to jump his bones right then and there.

Once you're finally within the comfort of your own home, Minho's got you hoisted up with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips instantly chasing yours while his hands settle on your ass, squeezing you as he carries you to your bedroom. He knows the layout of your apartment well enough that he doesn't have to break away from the kiss for more than a second to navigate the place and reach his desired destination.

It's only when he has lowered you on the bed that he stops kissing you, latching onto your neck while his clothed erection grinds against you. You choke on a breath as Minho sucks on a sweet spot, his favorite place to mark you. You love it, even though you always end up complaining to him that you have to cover it up when you go outside.

His hands knead you roughly, one still on your ass, the other having moved to your chest. You tug on his shirt, desperate and impatient, and he complies almost immediately. He finishes his work on your neck with a particular hard suck, his tongue soothing the skin before he pulls away from you just far enough to get rid of the shirt.

Minho dives in to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before your lips could meet. “Take off your pants,” you demand restlessly.

“What?” he simpers, though his hands are already reaching to undo his belt. “You don’t wanna kiss some more?”

“You can kiss me while you fuck me.”

It’s easy to tell that your words affect him, judging from the way his eyes glaze over with lust and the retort that he swallows back down. While he kicks off his jeans and boxers, you work on stripping yourself bare for him. You’re both naked in record time, and then he’s gravitating toward you once again.

It’s routine at this point; Minho likes to make you come at least once or twice before he fucks you. He’s about to descend your body before you’re stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not gonna let me have a taste?” he pouts.

“Later,” you tell him. “I just need you now.”

He bites his lip like he’s contemplating it, then slots his body between your open legs, his bare cock positioned on your inner thigh. “You sure? Don’t want me to prep you first?” he asks.

“No.” Your hands slide up his neck, pulling him closer until he’s resting his forehead against yours. “Can’t wait. Want you so bad...”

You’re practically whimpering, positively dripping with need as you tell him this. It makes Minho lose his mind a little bit, makes his breath hitch. He kisses you again as his fingers slip through your folds, pleased to find that you’re already beyond wet.

The sounds that you make, muffled by his lips, go straight to his cock; the length throbs, hardens impossibly more.

He dips his fingers into your entrance regardless, burying them to the hilt, scissoring you open. You buck against his hand instantly, your pliant cunt soaking his digits as you whine - or try to, anyway. It’s good, the way he’s fucking his fingers into you, but you need more.

“Min, just fuck me...” You break the kiss to look at him with darkened eyes, full of desire. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Then he’s pulling out, making a quick show of sucking his fingers clean, humming contentedly at your taste. The sudden emptiness that he leaves you with almost hurts, but it dissipates when he aligns himself with you, rubbing his tip against your clit a few times before he’s finally pushing in.

There’s a stretch but it’s not unpleasant. It’s delicious, how he fills you up so perfectly like he was made just for you.

That thought crosses your mind again.

My puzzle piece. My perfect fit.

You let out a drawn moan as Minho bottoms out. You can’t think straight, not when he’s this close to you, not when you can feel all of him. Not when it’s practically suffocating you, just how intimate the moment is.

You know it’s not exactly what you signed up for, or at least you still try to remind yourself that. And yet...

You two don’t use condoms anymore; you haven’t in a while. It’s a little reckless and stupid, you know that. Maybe if someone else had come to you and told you that they were forgoing protection with their close-friend-turned-friend-with-benefits, you would scold the shit out of them. But this is your situation, and people don’t tend to be very wise when it comes to their own dilemmas, do they?

Minho always pulls out, and you never forget to take your birth control. Of course, there’s always some concern, but it isn’t really on the forefront of your mind right now. There hasn’t been any scares so far.

“Okay?” he asks, brushing his lips against your cheek as he holds your waist.

You nod fervently. “More than okay. Please move.”

He chuckles at your impatience, giving your sides a tender squeeze before rearing his hips back. The drag of his cock along your walls makes you sigh, and when he plunges back into you, you almost shudder from how fucking good it feels.

“Minho...” His name falls from your lips hoarsely, brokenly. The pace he sets is fast, makes you see stars from the get-go. He would’ve preferred to play with you a bit more to ease the stretch for you, but he knows you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t think you could handle it.

You pull him closer with your arms around his neck until your chest is pressed tightly against his. He kisses you again, slowly, sweetly, while he thrusts into you hard and fast.

You know he likes it when you’re loud for him, because of him. He’s told you that much himself. But more often than not, Minho would kiss you a lot during sex, swallowing the moans trying to escape from you.

Maybe he’s just looking out for your poor neighbors.

Or maybe he just likes kissing you that much.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, breaking away momentarily to let you breathe. His cock nudges your g-spot on every stroke and it feels like heaven. “You’re doing so good, baby. Always take me so well.”

You don’t know if it’s the pet name that makes your heart skip a beat or if it’s just the praise in general, but either way, it fills you with an indescribable warmth.

You clench around him, your thighs instinctively hugging his waist tighter and that’s how he knows you’re almost there. “Gonna come for me?” he asks, his hips never easing up on their brutal pace because goddamn Lee Minho and his fucking stamina. One of his hands sneaks down to meet your clit, drumming it like he’s playing the freaking guitar and it makes you want to scream.

“So close,” you cry out. He’s brought you to that edge already, and all you have to do now is... fall. “Min, I’m...”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And so you do. You fall. You let yourself tip over the edge and into the sea of pleasure that awaits you. It’s stars exploding behind your eyelids, wonderfully devastating. It’s rapturous euphoria, the way Minho holds you through it all, how he peppers kisses along your jawline, how he never ceases his movements, making your high last as long as possible.

He holds out until he’s seen your orgasm through. When your bliss subsides, his hips stutter, turning more erratic.

“I’m close,” he rasps out.

You hold his face and mimic his actions just a couple minutes ago, kissing his cheek, the bridge of his nose and the cute mole on the side, then finally his lips. “Where do you want it?”

“Your mouth,” he asks gently. “Please.”

When Minho pulls out, you move toward him, settling on your hands and knees until your face is level with his bare cock. He lets out a breathless moan as you take him into your awaiting mouth, humming contentedly when you taste yourself on him. He has both hands on you, one tangled in your hair, the other stroking your cheek affectionately, all the while his hips thrust into your mouth slowly until he hits the back of your throat, only to pull back and do it again repeatedly.

You peer up at him through your lashes, and Minho just thinks you’re so fucking pretty like this, looking at him with innocent eyes, yet you’re doing downright obscene things with him, letting him do the filthiest things to you.

You place your hand on top of his own, the one that’s on your face, caressing your cheekbone. “Baby,” he whimpers brokenly as you hollow out your cheeks to try and suck him off better. His heavy length throbs on your tongue, pulsating with the need to come. He’s aware that he sounds beyond needy and desperate, but you’re just so warm and wet and a fucking goddess that it makes him short-circuit, wiping his mind clean until all he knows is you.

Nothing else, no one else but you.

It takes him only a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s calling out your name in a drawn-out moan, spilling his hot cum down your throat, coating your tastebuds with him. You bop your head along his length for a minute longer, until you’re certain that he has nothing left to give you. When you’re done, your tongue wanders from the base to the tip, lightly sucking and licking the head like a kitten, before you open your mouth to show him that you’ve been a good girl.

Minho is dazed as he stares at you, his lips parted as he tries to even out his breathing. You smile triumphantly as you watch him try to get his bearings, but after a moment, he’s still quiet. You’re about to poke his side to get him to come down from the clouds, but he’s suddenly pulling you up by your arms and kissing you hard. You let out a surprised gasp, muffled against his mouth, before you relax against him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

He moans when he tastes himself on your tongue, and the vibration caused by the sound makes you press your thighs together.

One of his hands gropes your bare ass before his fingers find your core again, rubbing your slit, gathering the moisture there.

“Did sucking me off make you wet again?” Minho pulls back slightly to ask, a smirk evident on his lips. You don’t say anything; you just look at him with bashful eyes. “Want me to make you come again?”

At this, you nudge his nose with yours. “Will you?” you ask coyly. “Just a quick one.”

He kisses you once more before he gently pushes you backward, motioning for you to lie on the bed as he settles with his head between your legs.

He sucks a faint mark into one of your inner thighs. “Anything for you,” he says.

His lips latch onto your awaiting clit, sucking it into his mouth gently and instantly making you sigh in pure bliss. Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging on it when two of his fingers dip into your entrance without warning. The digits enter you easily, aided by your excess wetness, fucking you fast, determined to make you come again.

You feel like you’re floating.

There’s something about today. Some lines, blurred.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself nearing the edge again. You’re still a bit sensitive from your previous orgasm after all. “Ah, shit… There…” you keen out, your greedy hands trying to push him further against your cunt, which he happily obliges.

When you come in his mouth, your thighs shaking around his head, Minho laps it all up, taking his sweet time to lick you clean. You feel him moan against your core, and it isn’t until you start wincing from the overstimulation that he releases you.

A smug grin blooms on his lips as he crawls up the bed, lying down next to you. You take a couple of minutes to catch your breath, thoroughly enjoying the warmth that settles deep in your belly and the satisfying sensation between your legs. You cover your body with the duvet before you roll onto your side to face him.

Pillow talk isn’t your forte.

You just watch him as he watches you carefully, neither of you saying anything as the electricity in the air settles. You wait to see if he would speak, but after a moment, your eyelids start getting heavy. Exhaustion catches up with your body quicky.

“Tired?” Minho asks.

“Mhmm.”

He waits for another beat, reaches a hand out to stroke your hair softly before he gets up and goes to the bathroom. The aftercare is routine, and you cannot express how much you appreciate him for it. He returns with a damp cloth, then peels the duvet from your bottom half to clean you up. He does all of it quietly, and the silence makes you even drowsier.

When Minho is done, he pats your leg and covers you up again. He goes back to observing you and your sleepy face for another minute. You keep your eyes open as you try to maintain eye contact but it’s hard; you feel like you could pass out any second now.

Nevertheless, even in your exhausted state, you still sense the light somberness that befalls the confines of your walls. Usually, this is the part where he leaves, and you can tell that he doesn’t like the realization that he has to go now.

You see it in his face and it makes you a little sad because you know he wants to stay.

Then, it strikes you that you don’t really want him to leave either. At least not tonight.

“It’s late. You can stay the night,” you say quietly, “if you want.”

The same excuse that you used to kick him out the last time, now you’re using to get him to stay.

Minho seems surprised. “Are you okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Oh.”

You catch the tip of his ears turning red. It’s endearing, for some reason.

He puts on his boxers from where they were abandoned on the floor earlier, but opts to remain shirtless. His movements are a bit graceless, like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

This is a first for the both of you. The first time he’s ever stayed over.

“Do you want me to grab you a shirt?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Yes, please.”

Minho wanders over to your wardrobe and rummages through your t-shirt drawer. He picks one out from the bunch, holding it up for you to see. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with you, but when it does, you realize that it’s not your shirt at all. It’s Minho’s, one that he left here some time ago and you were just never reminded to give it back.

“Oh,” you say. “You can wear it if you want. It’s yours anyway.”

“I think I’d rather see you wear it.”

You don’t argue because you’re tired and it’s just a shirt. You throw it on when he hands it to you along with a clean pair of underwear.

“What?” you ask when he just hovers over your bed and stares at you.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to the shirt covering your body, his lips curling upward before he tells you, “Nothing.”

After turning off the lights, Minho climbs into bed with you. You’re lying on your back and you suspect that he’s in a similar position, though you don’t turn to look at him to make sure. It’s awkward, and you don’t really know what to do about it.

A couple minutes later, he brushes his fingers against yours. “Can I?”

You don’t know what he’s asking, but you agree nonetheless. “Okay.”

There’s some shuffling from his direction, like he’s rolled over onto one side to face you in the dark. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, until your back is flushed against his bare chest. The godforsaken thing that you call a heart starts beating wildly for a reason unbeknownst to you. It’s difficult to breathe properly when he’s holding you like this.

Like you’ve never been held before.

You think Minho feels the stiffness of your body in his arms because he starts rubbing odd patterns on your skin, up and down your sides, trying to soothe you.

It helps a bit, but then again it’s probably the sleepiness seeping in more and more too.

“Hey,” you start. “About what Hyunjin said at the party tonight.”

Minho pauses the movements of his fingers a second. “What did he say?”

“The thing he said about the girl…”

He laughs his cute laugh then, his chest vibrating with the sound. “You know the girl is you, right?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“It’s cute.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, patting your stomach with affection. “What about what Hyunjin said?”

You take a breath. “I don’t know. What if everyone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Minho reassures you. “They’re not the brightest bunch.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he protests, then his voice gets smaller, full of hesitation as he asks, “Even if they do find out, would it really be that bad?”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world,” you tell him, “but I don’t know, it’s…”

Then you trail off, not really knowing what to say. It’s what? Embarrassing? Scary? What?

“Come on.” Minho presses a kiss into your hair after a moment of dead silence. Maybe he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep, or maybe he’s trying to keep you from overthinking everything. The gentle kiss would’ve made you weak in the knees if you aren’t already lying down. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Your mind takes you back to what he said just now. You can’t help but think how that sentence would sound better if only he’d switched out one word for another.

My girl…

You know my girl is you, right?

It makes your heart skip a beat, then you’re snuggling further into the warmth of his embrace, where he welcomes you with no reservation.

You drift off to the sound of his breathing, dreaming about you and him.

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cakerybakery · 3 months ago

Text

I got excited and wanted to share this part of the story. From The Dust Anew. And expanding on the couple of lines I posted earlier.

Warning fem Adam.

Context Adam was reformed by God from dust into a succubi/incubi. Based on @inubaki ‘s Prideful Au Adam where he’s smaller than Lucifer and has feminine features.

Lucifer was trying to think of something to calm him down when Adam stopped. He started undoing the bottom zipper of his ducky onesie and bent over the meeting table, “Lu, I want you to fuck me.” Adam wiggled his ass, making the tail on the onesie wave back and forth enticingly.

“Can do.” What kind of mad man would turn down that?

He undid his own zipper and pulled his dick out of his boxers. Lucifer was reaching around to work on getting Adam nice and wet for him when Adam muttered so quietly that Lucifer was sure he wasn’t supposed to have heard. “If that cunt thinks she can just waltz back in, she’s got another thing coming. Lu’s fucking mine.”

Lucifer grinned. He didn’t know Adam could be so possessive. He was going to fill his cunt full to bursting so Adam could feel certain where Lucifer liked to cum. When they got home he’d have Adam sit on his lap so he could feel Adam leaking.

Adam was nice and wet for him. He moaned as Lucifer pushed into that tight heat and filled him to the hilt.

“Wiggle your butt if you can.” Lucifer licked his lips and watched as Adam shook his ass and made that little duck tail move. “God, that’s hot.”

Taking Adam by the hips, Lucifer fucked him slowly.

In and out.

Until Adam was whimpering and begging him to go faster.

“Quack for me, ducky.”

Adam whined, he looked over his shoulder as he bit his lip. Give credit where it’s due, Adam tried to hold out, but in the end, in a small quivering voice he quacked.

“Good boy.” Lucifer rewarded him by going faster. “Quack louder for me!”

“Quack!” Adam put a bit more force into it.

Lucifer thrusted as fast as he could, every time he buried himself to the hilt Adam quacked.

Lilith never would have done this. God, he loved Adam. He played with Adam’s clit and he screamed out a quack as he came. Adam slumped against the table and Lucifer wrapped a hand around Adam’s straining cock. Softly Adam quacked again as he whimpered and came again.

“Good ducky.” Lucifer panted into Adam’s back. He let himself cum in Adam’s still twitching cunt.

Lucifer pulled out long enough to flip Adam onto his back. He reburied himself into Adam’s dipping pussy and picked him up. Adam quacked softly as he buried his face in Lucifer’s shoulder, too weak to stop.

Opening a portal back to their place, Lucifer carried Adam like that to the couch. Carefully, he settled onto the large furniture, his dick still inside his ducky. Adam needed to rest, might as well let him rest with cock still inside of him.

Lucifer closed the portal and turned the TV back on. He wanted to live in his ducky’s pussy. Adam had nothing to worry about. Lilith might be coming back to hell, but she wasn’t welcome back in this home.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adam x lucifer #fem Adam #From the Dust Anew AU

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diggitydoggo · 2 months ago

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Local boxer bullies their referee

I got a request on tiktok to draw Daisy suplexing Wally so here ya guys go.

I have a feeling he's about to be the most bullied character in this au.

#welcome home belt battle au #welcome home #welcome home wally #welcome home fanart #welcome home art #welcome home au #welcome home oc #welcome home original character #welcome home daisy #Welcome home boxer au

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D

steve zombie!au fem. 1k

You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less.

"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust.

He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed.

But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks.

"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later."

He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous. "He's so nice," you say.

"No, he's not."

"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something."

"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy."

"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds.

"I'm actually making myself feel sick."

"I can wear a different coat if it–"

"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks."

"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?"

"I'm good with the kids."

"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone."

"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say."

You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you."

Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure.

"First, underwear."

"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much."

"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself.

"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks.

You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?"

"I wanna smoke these so bad."

You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings."

"Weirdo."

You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.

Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.

You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off.

You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind.

Apparently, it's been on yours.

"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."

Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose.

He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth.

"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again."

"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go."

"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted.

Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy.

It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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mismaeve · 11 days ago

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Ashes of the Heart

↳ Ashes of the Heart, Thranduil x Fem!Reader, modern AU ↳ Requested by @fizzyxcustard Word Count: 2.3k TW: heavy angst, cursing, graphic descriptions, references to death A/N: This was such an amazing request to write, I enjoyed myself so much! I didn't know I could produce such angst, but here we are so read at your own peril. Any feedback is always welcome and much appreciated. Enjoy! 𓋼𓍊 Backstory: Thranduil who works in military as elite special operations leader, is leaving his lover to oversee a Navy SEALs mission. It's something he has done countless of times, only this time - his lover has a bad feeling about it.

«For how long?»

Your question was one that you had asked many times before. Always the same. A question without an answer as you watched him pack his duffel-bag, barely anything inside it, save for a few shirts and clean socks, and boxer briefs. His lack of an answer hung heavily within the four walls of your spacious bedroom.

“I see,” you sighed heavily. You knew well enough to trust that if he could, he would tell you. Begging and pleading would change nothing, and you had quickly adapted to a life of being kept in the dark. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, but it could drive you mad during those lonely nights when your fear for him became your greatest enemy. Scenario after scenario of every little thing that could have gone wrong – the image of your beloved injured or worse…

You shuddered.

“What is it, my love?” concern filled his pale eyes as his hand clasped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring his touch for the solitude that was to come.

“It feels different this time,” you confessed, your eyes dropping to your hands – a jumble of nervous fingers.

“How do you mean?” Thranduil asked softly.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen to you,” you whispered, your admission sending a painful jolt through your heart and filling your stomach with lead.

“Oh, my sweet, you know-”

“Yes, I know you’re never on the ground yourself. Believe me, I know this. But I can’t shake this feeling,” you interrupted him, desperately wanting him to understand and accept your concern.

You always let him go, never fussed or begged him to stay. You knew how important his work was to him – to the entire country and maybe even the world. His brilliant mind was the one hidden behind every successful operation. How could you keep him to yourself when everyone’s safety – including your own – depended on him?

You had adjusted, not only your life but your expectations as well. Only tonight, the sickening feeling of dread was like poison inside your mind, spreading its bile throughout your entire body.

“Oh, my darling,” Thranduil pulled you into his arms and kissed your hair. You held onto him for dear life, afraid of what might happen if you were to let go. Your premonition of tragedy only growing with each gentle stroke that trickled down your back, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

“I always come back to you, do I not?” he whispered against your hair, his body rocking yours back and forth slowly and tenderly, a simple motion meant to soothe your growing worry.

“But you never promise,” you pointed out. “You never promise to come back because even you know that there is still some danger to what you do and where you go,” you insisted, pulling away to look at the man you loved beyond any reason and doubt.

His pale eyes held yours, the understanding gleaming through from the depths of his own soul. He knew you were right.

“Believe me when I say that no force in this world would keep me from returning to you,” Thranduil said. “You are my home, my peace from the destruction that is our world. You’re my haven during a raging storm. Nothing will keep me away from you.”

You bit back the tears that had come unannounced and nodded. If only to please him, you would muster the last of your courage and strength. You swallowed the bitter lump of foreboding and forced yourself to smile. He deserved a proper and loving good-bye, not tears and childlike pleas.

“Be safe, will you?” you said softly and placed your palm to his cheek. Thranduil leaned into your touch with a reposeful sigh, his eyes closing briefly while he cherished this last moment between you.

“Always,” he whispered.

An hour later you were sat on your bed alone.

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Not a phone call or a text, no letters of any kind – Thranduil appeared to be fallen off this Earth entirely. It became harder and harder to remind yourself that he wasn’t allowed to communicate while planning and overseeing an operation. With each day that went by without a word from him, your unease had turned malignant – eating and tearing away at your mind like a disease for which there was no remedy.

You had a number to call in case of an emergency, but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. This wasn’t the first time when he had been gone for months on end, you had survived that, surely you would persevere this time as well. If only it weren’t for that pesky feeling that wouldn’t go away. Without knowing how or why, you knew with crystal-clear certainty that something was wrong. You had known it long before he had walked out the door.

Another month had gone by without any news of his whereabouts when you awoke with a scream, tiny beads of sweat covering your forehead. Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, threatening to burst any minute with every shallow breath you drew. Wheezing and gasping for air with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to catch your breath while still being held captive by the nightmare that had just haunted you.

You jumped at the sound of the doorbell, a yelp escaping your trembling lips. Fumbling with the light, your fingers still shaking from your vivid dream, you struggled to switch it on. Tumbling over your own sheets in your rush to get out of bed, you nearly fell out with your face first.

With your heart lodged inside your throat, you rushed to the door and peered through the tiny peephole. A well-dressed man was standing on the other side, patiently waiting for you to open. In your flustered state you hadn’t immediately recognised the familiar face of Jerry, a man who worked closely with Thranduil. Mindless of your current attire, you unlocked and threw open the door.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, not bothering to hide the panic that laced your voice.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced in the middle of the night, but I fear this couldn’t wait for a more decent hour,” Jerry’s tone was calm and collected, a blatant contrast to your own disheveled self.

“Tell me,” you urged him. The sinking feeling in your stomach warning you that the news he bore were far from good. A nauseating wave of hot and cold reverberated through your entire body, your insides twisting and churning in painful anticipation.

“Let’s talk inside, shall we?” Jerry offered with a quick nod in the direction of your apartment.

“I need to know, Jerry,” you insisted as the two of you had taken your seats on the couch at his request.

A heartbeat passed before your husband’s highly esteemed colleague began divulging the events that had taken place during the operation. It appeared that there had been a leak, and the entire campaign had been compromised from the very beginning. The team of Navy SEALS had been deployed as planned, their movements tracked and monitored by intelligence officers, the entire operation led and overseen by Thranduil as chief elite special operations leader. Everything had seemed to go as planned when their systems had suddenly crashed and shut down entirely, leaving them in the dark about the movements of their men on the ground.

“Well? Go on,” you pushed for Jerry to continue after he had taken a brief pause.

“I’m sorry, I-,” he cut himself off and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping, clearly unable to go on.

“For fuck’s sake, tell me!” you choked out through gritted teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. You felt you couldn’t breathe but you had to know. After everything that they had put you through, they owed you this much.

Jerry lifted his head, his face drawn and utterly defeated. His look was that of pity, like he knew what he was about to do to you. Nonetheless, you stood your ground in defiance, even as your heart had already begun to crack and splinter.

The supposed glitch in their systems had turned out to be a cleverly crafted ruse, a temporary disabling of the sensory motion detectors orchestrated by the terrorists so their drones could slip in undetected. When their back-up systems had picked up the slack, it had already been too late. Several explosions had riddled the base of their headquarters as the drones had launched their assault. A perfectly plotted mission to eliminate the brilliant and tireless minds behind the curtains. All turned to ash.

No bodies had been recovered from the scene.

An ear-piercing cry filled your apartment, threatening to shatter your windows – just as your own heart had shattered into a million pieces. You screamed and wailed until your throat burned raw, your chest painfully heaving with each useless breath you took. Unaware of the steady arms that had wrapped around you, holding your convulsing frame, you continued to unleash your blazing agony. There was no end in sight, no promise of a respite, however temporary, only grief – dark and thick, and unyielding. An endless sorrow took over your body and promised to never let go. There was nothing left for you, only pain forever etched in your soul at his sudden departure.

You knew with uncanny certainty that you had died that night. In his passing, he had taken you along with him.

Three weeks earlier

Jerry was pacing up and down the narrow corridor, his thoughts racing quicker than he could pay attention to. His once sharp and focused mind had become nothing more than a blur. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to do this, his regret already eating away at his conscience.

He couldn’t do it.

Jerry stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He slowed down his throbbing mind by focusing on his breathing, a practice he employed whenever his wits threatened to abandon him. If he was to have this particular conversation, he would need his devices to remain cool and collected, even if his counterpart appeared to had lost his.

He wouldn’t do it.

With a nod of quiet determination, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his colleague’s room.

“What is it that you do not comprehend?” he hissed in anger.

“I don’t understand why you’re willing to put her through this when it’s so uncalled for,” Jerry argued back albeit his voice lower and gentler than that of his friend.

“Uncalled for?! Look at me! Who am I to condemn her to loving a monster?” Thranduil spat in burning fury.

“She loves you, you know she does. She’ll love you regardless of how you look,” Jerry tried to make him see reason, but Thranduil only shook his head in dismissal.

“No.”

“Coward,” Jerry stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest. His own defiance preventing him from backing down.

“Fuck you, Jerry.”

“You’re a coward. Because why else would you ask me to tell your wonderfully loving wife, who probably at this very moment wishes for nothing more than your safe return, that you have died? You say it’s for her, but I think it’s your own vanity and fear that drive you to do this. That’s not love or mercy.”

Thranduil regarded him in silence, his right eye not blinking. The sight of him was horrific – the left side of his face was covered in bandages, his previously golden-white hair now burnt off entirely, leaving a patchy scalp riddled with burn-blisters. What was left of his skin was red and swollen. His chest was submerged underneath countless burn dressings, his left arm wrapped in medical gauze – from his fingertips to his shoulder. He couldn’t see Thranduil’s legs, but he imagined his left leg was in no better shape than the rest of him.

Jerry schooled his features, the last thing his colleague needed was to see pity in his eyes.

Thranduil turned his head away from his friend, his gaze drifting to the lone window of his hospital room.

“It’s because I love her, that I have to do this,” he began quietly. “I’ve no doubt that she would love me despite my injuries. She would want to nurse me back to health, without a complaint or single regret. She’d do anything for me.”

“It’s because I love her, that I don’t wish this kind of life for her. A life stuck with me, caring for me while I’m slowly consumed by my rage. I’ve become a disfigured cripple who may never walk again or regain the use of his arm. Half of my face has been melted off straight to the bone,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“If I haven’t become a monster yet, it’s where I’m headed. I am angry at the entire world and that anger will only grow with time. I can’t subject her to share her life with an ungrateful, bitter beast. Not when she deserves to live.”

Jerry heard Thranduil’s breath hitch ever so softly, the sound of it piercing his heart like a bullet. It was gut-wrenching to witness his close friend be reduced to this – a heap of charred flesh with a broken spirit.

“She won’t survive it,” he said quietly.

Thranduil turned his head, a sad smile playing on the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of genuine pride gleaming in his good eye.

“She’ll think so too, that there is no surviving this. But she’s strong,” his smile widened knowingly. “Fierce. Even if she may not know it yet.”

“What if you one day, say a year from now, regret your decision? What if you find yourself wanting to find her?” Jerry asked.

“I doubt that will ever happen. But if it did…,” Thranduil trailed off and paused.

“I’d pray that she could find it in her to forgive me and would gladly spend the rest of my life trying to earn that forgiveness.”

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#thranduil #thranduil x fem!reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #modern thranduil au #the hobbit #the hobbit au #the hobbit fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #angst #maeve writes #maeve's requests

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dimepdf · 2 years ago

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★ 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. sometimes you feel a bit guilty admitting that your best friend's father is the one for you.

─── ☆ notes. gonna be leaning more towards au type fanfic after this as a thank you for 9k! i feel kinda bland not being able to write in the genre of fantasy after my king!eren fic lmao . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

dilf!toji, who everyone knows is too good looking for his middle age, his clean uncaring dark looks and deep dangerous smirk make many people the victim of his smart charm.

He could have anyone wrapped around his finger whenever he had pleased yet lived to humble himself with only a few causal partners. Cutting said women away whenever the relationship would threaten to get too serious, commitment not much of his strong suit.

Which was why the older man should have known better than to entertain you, his son Megumi’s best friend.

It was usual for your group of friends to come to his home, using his living room as a lounge spot with the rest of the group on the weekends, taking a break from college life to collectively lounge in comfort at the breathtaking penthouse the full-pocketed family called home.

During those said visits, dilf!toji never seemed to fail at catching your eye no matter what you were doing. Seemly struggling with some mental battle trying to not make it seem as if you weren’t some horny freak that would constantly eye fuck your best friend's very handsome and seemly always shirtless ab toned father.

dilf!toji, who despite his better judgment starts taking a liking to the young girl that had no issue surging through his snack pantry, yet wouldn't be able to hold a conversation without stumbling over your words or struggling to hold eye contact with him.

dilf!toji who loved catching you off guard leered around from your friends peering eyes and watching you fidgeting over his looming towering figure, finding out just what alluring comment he could think of next that would make you turn into a flustered mess.

Maybe that’s why dilf!toji had found you so intriguing—the shy little thing that would so confidently whisper about how hot he was to your friends, knowingly confessing the lewd things you wanted to do with the man that was just a wall away.

Yet the moment you happened to be alone with him, you would be seconds away from turning into putty.

"We should hurry," you mutter against his lips, a gasp following after as his canines swiped against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed against you, trailing down to the peak of your collarbone.

"When did you become so impatient?" dilf!toji only says this to tease your eager state, proving his point with his move as you back him against the kitchen corner, pressing against his chest before dropping to your knees.

It was a sight to behold, the soft spoken house guest now with your fingers untying the lace of his sweatpants. "I thought I taught you better than that," dilf!toji continues with a hand caressing the softness of your face.

Tilting your head up to look at him as his thumbs wander around the wrap of your plump lips, sighing at the warmth of your tongues pressing and sucking against the digit.

dilf!toji leans back and watches the dick eager monster he had created tugging down his sweats and boxers, eyes his erection almost close to drooling as if it were the first time you had seen his veiny length in its full glory.

He couldn't help but smirk, knowing he had taught you just how to please him and just how much he loved it when you kissed his tip and dragged your tongue on the underside of his hilt before wrapping your lips around him and gagging, trying to take him down your throat.

"Woah, slow down, baby, I'm not going anywhere." It was faux concern laced in his low, grave cadence, his hands trailing up to the side of your skull, finding a nice resting place for them as he thrust against your mouth.

dilf!toji, who, despite chastising you so many times about your loud whines, needs to be quieter while his son is asleep just down the hall, yet loves the loud intruding noise filling his home with the wet suctioning noise of your moans around his dick.

With tears beading your waterline, you used your hand to stroke what you could fit in your mouth. He loved seeing you like this, all needy just for him.

"Can’t take it all, sweet girl?" dilf!toji would taunt, mocking the whine that would tug deep from your throat in arousal with a false pout.

"Look at you, so fucking needy, can’t even last a second without touching yourself," he cursed, grunting at the sight of your hand split between your spread legs. The insults would have been the icing on the cake if you weren't so deterred from getting him off first.

A woman on a mission, you beckoned him farther down your throat, giving him a look of permission while bracing yourself against his thigh.

dilf!toji hadn't spent much time putting two and two together, taking over the pace and fucking your throat at his own will.

You wanted to feel something other than the bubbling hot pleasure building up between your legs: anger, shame, or even guilt for having a thing for your best friend's dad, let alone agreeing to spend the night knowing that it would be easier for you to have a moment alone with dilf!toji now that the universe had just given you the perfect excuse.

You always knew the next morning was bound to be brutal from dilf!toji’s gruff assault on your throat, his thrust only getting rougher as he adjusted the grasp around your skull, grunting more and more as you tried to unknot the trembling orgasm that threatened to approach from your pleasuring hand.

It doesn't take him long, considering the feeling of you swallowing and humming against his length, cumming down your throat at the sight of you trembling around your fingers, egging on your own orgasm.

Struggling to swallow down most of his mess, humming and swiping your mouth with the back of your hand once he had pulled out.

You had no time to feel guilty, especially while dilf!toji lifted you on top of the kitchen island and buried himself in between your legs, lapping his tongue against your already sensitive pussy.

You wanted to go back in time and pat yourself on the back for being friends with Megumi, knowing that it meant his father would be pushing aside your panties and fucking you against his marble counters.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen

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theharrowing · 10 months ago

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Collateral 🗡️ POV: Jungkook

Jungkook has to take care of a few things, and he makes a mess.

Or, the one with Jungkook, a cocktail of drugs, a bandolier of kunai knives, and 15 dead men.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Jungkook x a male stranger, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 8.5k

🗡️ mafia au, complicated relationships, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: discussion of drug use and manufacturing (mdma/ecstasy, methamphetamines, amphetamines); mention of homeless people being thought of as disposable; actual drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy laced with meth, all while drinking whiskey); use of molotov cocktail as a weapon; hand-to-hand combat; graphic knife violence & broken glass used as a weapon; killing 15 men; getting stabbed but not too badly; plenty of my annoying sense of humor.

🗡️ note: hello! welcome to the character pov chapters! these used to be locked behind a paywall but tbh i don't feel good asking people for money, so i am setting them free (cue Jimin.) this chapter is possibly my favorite written chapter for all of Collateral, and it is gory as all hell. i hope you love it!!!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - but it has undergone some pretty big non-beta'd edits

🗡️ posted feb. 2024 - originally sept. 2022 | read on ao3

The sounds of Jeongguk grunting while his fists repeatedly hit his punching bag are all that can be heard in his spacious home. So when Jeongguk glances up to find this morning's hookup standing against the frame of the hallway entrance in light blue boxer shorts, he startles, and, in a flash, pulls his gun from the holster around his hips.

The man jumps and throws his hands in the air while Jeongguk sighs and shakes his head, recalling who he is. He reaches back and slides the barrel of his weapon into place at the small of his back.

"Why are you still here?" Jeongguk asks, returning to punching the red sand-filled bag that hangs from the ceiling of his mostly empty living room.

Sweat runs down Jeongguk's face and neck, sticking his hair to his forehead. He wears his hip holster, a pair of black basketball shorts, and nothing else. With each strike of his bare skin against the bag, his knuckles sting.

"That's no way to speak to the guy who sucked your soul through your dick this morning," the man teases, and Jeongguk grimaces as he looks at the man, who grins.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "I never even learned your name. It's not that serious."

The man opens his mouth as if to respond, but Jeongguk raises his hand and says, "I don't want to fucking know. Be on your way."

For a brief moment, the man just stands and stares owlishly with his mouth gaping open, and Jeongguk resists the urge to pull his gun on him once more. Then the man shifts around on his feet and mutters, "You drove us here," with a dejected frown.

Jeongguk sighs with vexation. He pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs around through his contacts, and calls Hoseok, who answers after the second ring.

"Ggukie bun, to what do I owe the pleasure?" It sounds like Hoseok has his phone on speaker, which means he is most likely driving.

"Hyung, are you busy? I need someone driven home."

"I happen to be on my way back to the property now. Gimme ten? Gonna pick up Seokjin and then I'll swing by."

"Sounds good. Thank you, hyung."

Hoseok chuckles, says, "My pleasure, little bro," and hangs up.

Jeongguk shoves his phone back into his pocket and nods toward the front door, saying, "Your ride will be here in ten. You can wait outside."

With a huff, the man turns on his heels and walks back down the hallway to the guest room from which he came. Irritated, Jeongguk abandons his workout and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water. His house is a spacious and open concept with black countertops and silver appliances, all of which are pristine and practically empty.

Jeongguk pulls a tall, thin glass from the rack beside the sink, fills it halfway with water from the tap, and drinks most of it, only to dump out the rest. Then he rinses the glass off, sets it in the same spot it was before, and he returns to his punching bag, waiting for his guest to leave.

It only takes another moment for the man to appear in a black tee untucked over tight blue jeans. His hair is short, dark brown, and disheveled, and Jeongguk spares him a final passing glance before looking away. Some shuffling around is heard as the man puts on his shoes before the front door opens and closes.

Jeongguk grabs his gun from its holster and twirls it around his finger as he makes his way through the space and locks both deadbolts on the front door—not that the man would be able to bypass a retina scan and passcode to return inside. He heads up a flight of stairs beside the entrance toward his master bedroom and en suite to get ready to meet with Yoongi and Namjoon in thirty minutes, whistling some tune that is stuck in his head while the heavy, familiar weight of his glock grounds him.

Meetings make Jeongguk anxious. For as long as he has been part of Yoongi's family, nobody has given Jeongguk a reason for his anxiety; it is simply his natural state of being. He hates sitting and brainstorming, always finding himself spacing out and needing whoever was speaking to repeat themselves. He would rather be given an order and sent on his way.

And with the new girl in the house, everyone has the habit of getting sidetracked and steering the conversation to her. Especially Namjoon and Hoseok.

It is not as if Jeongguk doesn't like having her in the house, but he is tired of having to pretend to give a shit about new people. And, after the debacle with Ryujin, he is not eager to watch his boss fall in love with an outsider.

If there is one thing this world has taught Jeongguk, it is that to love is to die.

In his standard-issued black button-up tucked into black slacks, Jeongguk checks his appearance, running a hand through his unstyled hair. The front is growing out, falling just below his eyebrows, and it is another thing on the long list of shit he does not want to deal with.

Jeongguk straightens out his rolex and heads out through his dimly lit bedroom, down the short hallway to the flight of stairs that leads right to his front entrance. He sits on the second to last step and puts on worn-out doc marten boots, taking care to double tie the laces, and he adjusts the gun holster on his ankle so that it sits comfortably above his right boot.

Not that he will need a gun to go to Yoongi's place, but he may need one for where he plans on going after.

Jeongguk's home is the second closest to Yoongi's mansion, so rather than drive, he gets on his trusty 7-speed mint green bicycle. Strapped to the handlebars is a light brown handwoven basket in which he tosses a small black duffle bag. Jeongguk straddles the bike, gripping onto the soft brown handlebars, and sets off down his driveway, waiting as his weight triggers the security gate to open and let him be on his way.

It only takes three or so minutes for him to pull up to Yoongi's front gate. There is a path that connects all of their homes and allows them access without leaving any security gates, but the road has a nice steep hill that Jeongguk can get some real speed on, and he prefers that to the private path that is much more level.

As the gate opens granting Jeongguk access, he spots Hoseok and Seokjin standing hand in hand on Yoongi's stoop. From the smell of it, they are smoking a joint, and as Jeongguk gets closer, the sound of his tires on the cement driveway calls their attention.

Jeongguk grins and flicks the small aluminum bell on the handlebars twice, ringing it playfully. Yoongi's head appears from behind Seokjin's broad shoulders, and he smiles his wide, gummy grin that always sets Jeongguk at ease. Hoseok lets go of Seokjin's hand, and he turns to greet him.

"Who was the boy?" Hoseok teases.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shrugs. "How did you get back here so fast?"

"He didn't live too far," Hoseok responds with his hands on his hips.

Jeongguk knows the look in his eye—the squinted glare that suggests he isn't getting the information he desires and that he plans to pry more.

Hoseok continues, "I'm impressed you let him stay the night."

With a sigh, Jeongguk says, "I didn't. Picked him up this morning."

"This morning?" Seokjin asks as he turns and mimics Hoseok's stance—whether intentionally or simply because they spend too much time together, it is hard to say.

This is the facet of being the youngest that Jeongguk hates; he is always subject to twenty questions about what and who he does despite him almost never sticking his nose into their business. They love to pick on him, and it drives him crazy.

"Yeah, this morning," Jeongguk grumbles as he gets off his bike, walks it to the garage, and leans it against the painted steel panel door. "I had pent-up energy and couldn't sleep, so I went to Paradise and found someone to fuck."

Yoongi scoffs. A crooked smirk tugs on his lips—nothing but trouble—and Jeongguk braces himself for what he is about to say.

"Pent-up energy from bashing a man's brains in?"

Jeongguk hums in agreement and pushes his hand through his hair. "As if I'm the only one," he grumbles, making his way to the stoop. Seokjin holds a joint up to his lips, and Jeongguk reaches out and snatches it, sticking his tongue out as his elder, who squawks in dissent.

"You're certainly not the only one," Hoseok responds with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Yoongi shakes his head as he chuckles.

Jeongguk takes a deep inhale of the joint, enjoying the faint crackle of tobacco that has been mixed in. Smoke fills his lungs, and he holds it in, then tilts his head upward and blows the small plume out.

"Shall we?" Seokjin asks as he wraps his arm around Hoseok's waist. They are both dressed in black suits with white undershirts, with their hair styled a little nicer than usual, and Jeongguk wonders what they may be up to, but he doesn't want to ask. Unlike them, he hates to pry.

Yoongi, however, can always be trusted to unveil people's plans. "You'll be back in an hour or so?" he asks, reaching to smooth the lapels on Seokjin's dress shirt.

Hoseok nods and gives Yoongi a soft smile. "Seokjin is meeting with a few brokers at House of Cards, so while he's busy wooing them, I'll return in time to meet with you and Taehyung."

"Perfect," Yoongi responds with a satisfied smile. He turns to Jeongguk and says, "Namjoon's inside. Shall we?"

Jeongguk hums and holds the joint out toward Seokjin, who holds up his hand and shakes his head. Seokjin and Hoseok wave their goodbyes and walk toward the black sedan parked a few feet away, and Jeongguk waves the two fingers that cradle the slowly diminishing joint and follows Yoongi through the front door.

As he kicks out of his shoes, Namjoon comes down the stairs wearing a stupid smile that makes Jeongguk's stomach turn. What he and Yoongi get up to is their own business, but after what happened in the past, he hates the thought that the cycle is repeating itself. He has always wondered why the two of them can't just be happy together without having to play house with a third. But it is none of his business.

Smoking weed is probably a mistake. As Jeongguk lifts his hand to pass the joint to Namjoon, he already feels a little spaced out and way too relaxed. He approaches the blue velvet couch, sits on the end furthest from Yoongi's chair, and leans into the corner of it with one arm up on the armrest and the other slung around the back. Namjoon sits in the other corner, as close to Yoongi as possible, and angles his body toward Yoongi like the obedient little puppy he is.

As expected, the meeting loses Jeongguk's attention almost immediately, and he spaces out, rubbing his fingertips along the velvet fabric of the couch to make it dark and rough, only to smooth it out again.

Occasionally, Yoongi asks Jeongguk's opinion, catching his attention and reiterating whatever point it is he wants Jeongguk to weigh in on, and Jeongguk looks up, nods, and grunts.

The meetings always go this way. Everyone has a conversation around Jeongguk, and then they cater to Jeongguk's lack of attention in order to ask his opinion on trivial matters. He doesn't understand why this can't be done over text.

When they conclude the boring chunk of the meeting, and Jeongguk has grunted and nodded somewhere around eight to ten times, Yoongi sits forward in his chair—a movement that always catches Jeongguk's attention—then he angles his hips to reach into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a small baggie full of pills.

There are about eight pills in the bag, and they are little pink semi-squares. Without having a closer look, Jeongguk knows that they are ecstasy pills pressed with methamphetamines that were shipped from California, but he picks up the baggie anyway, inspecting them for the Iron Man logo imprinted on the back.

"These are trash," Jeongguk says, tossing them back onto the table.

One of these pills will have the user grinding their teeth so hard they are likely to chip one. Jeongguk once woke up from a bender that included these and other substances, and the sides of his mouth were so chewed up and swollen, he could barely eat soup.

Since then, he keeps a mouthguard in his duffle bag along with his weapons. He will never understand why Americans so willingly settle for garbage drugs.

"That they are," Yoongi responds with a smirk. "But we have already begun to manufacture smoother MDMA that gives you the high minus the mouth grinding, and I would like your guys to try to emulate a pill that has those qualities, plus the amount of methamphetamines found in these."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "If you want an upper that doesn't have a negative effect on the user's mouth, meth isn't the way to go."

"What about drugs that are meant to treat attention deficit?" Namjoon butts in.

Jeongguk tilts his head to show Namjoon he is listening and tenses his jaw to let him know that whatever it is, he better get to the point. Namjoon has a tendency to get long-winded, and Jeongguk finds it annoying. Namjoon seems unaffected and continues with a soft smile.

"Those pharmaceuticals don't often cause users to grind their teeth or get the other 'meth mouth' side effects. Perhaps we can find out how much meth is used in these pressed pills and test whether that same amount of Adderall or something similar would have a more pleasant effect. If your team doesn't still have Adderall or anything similar on hand, I'm sure we could get some smuggled in by the end of the week."

"Adderall isn't meth," Jeongguk mutters. "Amphetamines are a different class of stimulant, but...it might work. And I'm almost certain we have some on hand."

Jeongguk does not hate the idea. But he is not a scientist—none of them are. He has no clue if this idea will actually pan out. He does, however, have scientists under his employ, so he takes the baggie and shoves it into his pocket.

"Fine," Jeongguk says. "I'll talk to the team about it. Anything else?"

Namjoon shakes his head as if Jeongguk was directing the question to him, and Jeongguk ignores him to glance at Yoongi.

With a soft smile, Yoongi says, "Of course, we need to figure out who that Jae fellow is, who—"

"Already on it," Jeongguk interrupts, to which Yoongi sits up with a smile. "After some digging I found Jae and fourteen men who either knew about his plan or were helping him carry it out. I invited them all to a party at the private club. I'll pop by the warehouse on my way—kill two birds with one stone."

"Kill as many birds as needed," Yoongi responds with a dark, knowing gaze that sends an excited shiver through Jeongguk.

"You got it, boss."

* * *

Jeongguk stops at a red light just outside the city, gathers saliva under his tongue as he takes the baggie of shitty pink pills out of his front pocket, and pops one into his mouth. He makes a mental note of where everyone will be in an hour or two, banking on Seokjin still being in town, knowing he will be in absolutely no shape to bike home. Then he runs a hand through his hair, gives the bell on his bicycle a celebratory ding as the light turns green, and takes off.

The air is warm, but the breeze that hits him as he rides at a slight incline feels nice and cool. It centers him—a calm before he kicks up a storm.

So little of Jeongguk's life has ever been calm, and so he takes these moments whenever he can and holds them close to his heart. Driving would make everything go faster, and it would be much more convenient, and that is precisely why Jeongguk rides his bike instead.

Jeongguk's drug operations primarily take place in a warehouse district on the outskirts of the city in an abandoned area that has been left impoverished and ignored with intention. The syndicates like having dumping grounds—a place to make people disappear—and when Yoongi took over and extended his reign to this area, there were talks of cleaning it up to improve the quality of life, which he staunchly declined.

In fact, the area seems to only have gotten worse. Ironic, perhaps, that some of Yoongi's most state-of-the-art equipment is housed in this very district.

There were homeless populations, but once the warehouses became more useful and Jeongguk employed a team of scientists to begin manufacturing some of their heavy-hitter drugs, everyone was pushed out or eradicated. Or, if they had their wits about them, they were brought onto some of the more disposable teams.

Jeongguk veers from the busy streets and begins an uphill journey that quickly turns to dirt and gravel terrain. The bike bounces as Jeongguk leans into each stride, and then he pulls up to a small concrete compound of four identical grey rectangles with steel panel doors and a few run-down cars outside. He thumbs over a key fob in his pocket to cause the steel door on the second building from the left to lift open, and skids to a halt in front of it.

Whether the drugs are slowly starting to take effect or Jeongguk is anxious about meeting with his team, he is unsure, but there is a tremor in his hands as he rides into the dark cement enclosure and taps the button over the fabric of his slacks once more to close the door behind him.

Jeongguk parks his bike off to the side of the entrance, closes his eyes to take a deep exhale and shake out his limbs, then makes his way through the empty building to a set of steps in a far corner.

Two stories below is where the science team works, and Jeongguk takes the baggie of pink pills from his pocket, pulls one more pill out, seals the baggie shut, and rubs his thumb and finger over the plastic-covered pills as he makes his way downstairs.

* * *

The phone rings thrice before Seokjin picks up, and Jeongguk rubs his hand over his nose, stifling a sniffle as cocaine drips down the back of his throat.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Jin-hyung," Jeongguk says in a tone that lilts on being ragged and unsure. "A-are you still in Seoul?"

Jeongguk hears Seokjin sigh. "Are you high?"

"Hmm...not yet. But I will be."

Jeongguk absolutely is high. It crept up as he was discussing Yoongi's idea with the science team, and he got so antsy that he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Luckily, there wasn't much to say to the team in the first place; they are used to these kinds of requests and know more about the processes than anyone else, so Jeongguk had nothing to explain—he simply plopped the baggie onto a metal table, muttered their idea, and was out rather fast.

"Do you need a ride?" Seokjin asks, voice stern in a way that always makes Jeongguk anxious—like he is being spoken to like a child.

"Yeah," Jeongguk mutters. His mouth shivers and moves a little too slowly. "Yoongi encouraged me to go b-bird watching, and I'll probably overdo it."

"Bird wat—what did he tell you, exactly?"

Jeongguk giggles, realizing his mistake. Bird watching—how silly. "I'll be in your district. Gotta knock skulls together and find out who lost my pills. Might get messy."

"And you need a ride?"

"Yes, hyung."

"Did you drive?"

"Yes, hyung."

Another sigh. "Send me the coordinates. I can be there in about an hour."

"Thanks, hyung," Jeongguk sing-songs in a dazed voice as he pulls the phone from his ear and hangs up.

His bike tires crunch on gravel as he sits back on the seat, grips his handlebars, and begins to ride. Inside the wicker basket sits an empty duffle bag, the contents of which have been strapped to Jeongguk's chest, scratching his skin ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

The ride from the warehouses to the river feels simultaneously too fast and incredibly slow. Jeongguk's heart pounds as he continues to come up on the pill and ease into two too many tiny spoonfuls of cocaine. He wants a drink—something stiff as hell to take the edge off.

Tonight, in a private club near House of Cards, fifteen of Jeongguk's men are enjoying an evening of drinking and taking it easy in celebration of a great month of getting product onto the streets and sold. This, of course, is a lie; their month tanked once one of them pulled a significant amount of pharmaceuticals and ecstasy, and Jeongguk has gathered them all for easy disposal.

Namjoon and the lamb met with Changkyun to rough up a couple of men who spilled the beans about someone named Jae fucking with their supply. Afterward, Jeongguk put his ear to the ground and immediately started to hear whispers of other men who may have been working to help him. He found out who had been working close to Jae and who had been hanging out with him while off duty, and he made sure to extend invitations to all fifteen of them for a party at the club tonight.

Everyone who is actually worth a damn is currently in one of the warehouses having a lowkey shindig of their own, far away from the others, and none the wiser. They will all find out eventually, and Jeongguk looks forward to their loyalty being tested when they do.

The sun has begun to set, and a pinkish-orange glow colors the sky. Jeongguk likes to imagine the pink as a runoff of blood, picturing the stars above spilling the crimson liquid onto the earth, getting soaked up by the clouds.

He stands, straddling his bike, and stumbles it into a rack, feeling the dizzying tendrils of his high begin to wrap him in a tight hug. A valet worker walks over with a bike lock and begins to anchor the vehicle into place, then sends Jeongguk off with a deep bow.

"Mister Jeon," the buff security officer working the front door mutters with a bow of his head. He pats Jeongguk down as he asks, "What's on the menu tonight?" fingers tracing over pointed steel between his pecs.

"Teaching a lesson in loyalty," Jeongguk responds with a wide, sadistic smile. "Boss will send a cleanup crew; you just need to worry about keeping the men inside once the bartender leaves through the back."

The guard rubs his palm over the gun on Jeongguk's ankle, then stands and says, "Understood."

When Jeongguk walks into the small club, the men are all crowded in a circle, shouting over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Whenever these low-lives get thrown into a room together, all they want to do is fight. Jeongguk can barely see a tousle of bodies in the center of the group, but the sounds of grunting as hands and feet make contact with limbs and cheeks has adrenaline coursing through him.

The space is cast in a drug-induced fog, and Jeongguk's eyes slowly scan around and attempt to make sense of everything. There are no windows and only one exit, save for a secret door only staff have access to behind the bar. The building itself is solid brick with mahogany floors and deep red wallpaper. Lighting in the space is dim, appearing darker still since the scarce furnishings are rust red.

Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and orders a double whiskey neat—the shittiest they have on the rail. He likes to feel the burn as it travels from his lips to his chest—likes how every inch of his body responds in protest against something so wretched.

"You're off for the night," Jeongguk mutters, and the bartender nods, grabs a towel to wipe a wet spot from the bar top, and then walks into the back, abandoning his post.

Jeongguk pulls a vial of cocaine from around his neck, unscrews it, and begins to tap a small pile onto the sticky counter. He leans and sniffs as much as he can, first through one nostril and then the other, leaving the rest behind.

Then, he pulls the second little pink pill from his pocket, takes a dizzy step back, and pops it into his mouth. He reasons that the only way to come out of the other end of a bloodbath without ruining his ability to sleep at night is to become relentlessly high.

With the remainder of his whiskey, Jeongguk washes back the pill and attempts to formulate a plan. One of the men approaches the bar, and Jeongguk turns to find him leaning against the edge and looking around.

"Where the fuck is the bartender?" the guy asks, glancing at Jeongguk.

Recognition hits the man, and his eyes widen, then he stands up straight, turning to Jeongguk with his head bowed forward. "S-sir," he mutters, "I didn't see you there."

Jeongguk's heart pounds as he undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, reaches past the fabric, and pulls out a sharp steel kunai knife with a hole on the end of the handle through which Jeongguk sticks his index finger. He twirls the small, heavy knife and takes a step toward the man.

"Are you having fun tonight?" Jeongguk asks with a voice that is far too steady for how he feels.

The man eyes Jeongguk's knife and gives him an ugly, toothy smile. His hair is greasy, his brown shirt is stained on the front, and he smells like piss. "So much fun, boss! Thank you for giving us the night off."

Jeongguk nods. "I wanted to give a special congratulations to Jae. Have you seen him?"

At the mention of Jae, the man's eyes open widely, and he nervously looks around the bar. Then he nods with his chin and says, "Red shirt. W-want me to get him for you, boss?"

Every inch of Jeongguk tingles. A hazy, thick euphoria embraces him tightly and makes him want to dance—dance and sing and slit all of these men's throats until the floor is sticky with blood.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, aware of how tense his jaw is becoming, and moves it around as if stretching it out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rounded plastic container in which he stores his mouthguard, and he shakes his head at the man before him.

"I'll take care of it," Jeongguk says as he pops the container open, pulls out the clear guard, and shoves it snugly into his mouth.

"Oh—okay," the man says, taking a step away from Jeongguk, who continues to stare him down with his lips spread over the clear plastic covering his teeth.

Jeongguk twirls the kunai on his finger and takes a step toward the man. The man jolts as if startled by a jump scare, and he takes a clumsy step back, tripping into a barstool and reaching back with his hand to steady it. Everything seems to move too fast and too slow, and Jeongguk finds he can only process that which is immediately in his line of sight—everything else is a hazy wash of light and color.

This is the sweet spot. Any higher, and Jeongguk might not be able to perform.

Jeongguk spins on the balls of his boots, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hoists himself up, landing surprisingly steadily on the bar top. Then he hops down onto the other side and straightens himself as he allows his eyes and brain to catch up to one another, scanning the bottles on the shelves. There are a lot of clear bottles, but only one of them is the vodka he desires.

"W-what are you doing, boss?" the man asks.

"Making a cocktail," Jeongguk shouts over his shoulder.

"Gin...close..." Jeongguk mutters to himself, mouth full of plastic and twirling his kunai. Fidgeting helps him focus, especially with methamphetamines coursing through his blood.

"W-what kind of cocktail, boss?" the man asks, and Jeongguk huffs an impatient sigh. He hates being bothered; why is this man bothering him?

"Ah, here you are," Jeongguk mumbles as he finds a nearly full bottle of Smirnoff 100-proof vodka. He pulls the bottle spout out and drops it to the floor—metal clattering on brick—then turns and searches the rail for a rag.

"Molotov," Jeongguk shouts as he takes the corner of the stained rag and begins twisting it into a small enough tip to shove into the bottle.

"What?"

Jeongguk has to use the kunai to slice part of the rag away, and he tosses the useless strip over his shoulder, then continues to shove the rag into the neck of the bottle, leaving a couple inches sticking out from the top.

Satisfied with his work, he pulls a gold-plated zippo lighter from his pocket and flicks it open against his thigh in one swift motion, igniting the flame in the process. Then he holds the flame up to the rag and watches with delight as the end of the dirty fabric catches. He pops the lighter closed and drops it back into his pocket, then he sets the flaming cocktail aside.

With the kunai dangling from around his finger, Jeongguk pulls out his mouthguard, dribbling spit that has gathered around it down his chin as he says, "Molotov," more clearly with a grin.

The man looks on in horror, frozen in place, and Jeongguk shoves the guard back into his mouth, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hops back up, onto his feet in a squatting position. Without warning, Jeongguk picks up the bottle, chucks it overhand toward the crowd, sending it high enough to hit the ceiling, and he smiles widely as the bottle explodes and rains liquid fire down onto the men.

Laughter rocks through Jeongguk, and he loses his balance, falling backward onto his palms against the bar. He sits flat on his butt and swings his legs over the edge of the counter, watching as men panic and scream.

Most of them will have minor burns. Several men run around flailing while their shirts and hair singe, and one man rolls on the floor, desperate to put out the flames. In the chaos, Jeongguk spots Jae off to the right, away from the fire, and he hops down from the bar to make his way over to him, pulling his mouthguard out.

"Yo, Jae!" Jeongguk shouts, and the man in red turns quickly and begins to run toward Jeongguk.

"Boss, you have to help us!" Jae shouts frantically, clearly drunk. "Someone threw fire at us!"

Jeongguk giggles and takes Jae roughly by the bicep as he mutters, "You, come with me."

Jae stumbles but compiles, and Jeongguk drags him several more feet away. Beside the bathrooms of this old building are thick pipes that stick out from the brick, and Jeongguk yanks the man close to one as he reaches into his pocket for some metal handcuffs, fumbles with opening one end of the cuffs, then locks it around Jae's wrist in a tight squeeze.

A shout rips through Jae's chest, and he attempts to get away but then throws a punch. Jeongguk takes the impact of his fist to the jaw and then slams his forehead into Jae’s face, knocking him backward into the wall.

Jae's head hits brick, making him grunt, and Jeongguk manages to reach the man’s hand over his head and secure the open cuff to one of the pipes.

Adrenaline from absorbing the punch has Jeongguk's nerves singing to life, and he punches Jae in the stomach for good measure, then turns to find the man at the bar shaking while leaning against it with a look of horror on his face.

"Why so scared?" Jeongguk mock pouts.

The man shakes his head and whimpers, "Wh-what's going on, boss?"

"You know what's going on," Jeongguk mutters with a grin.

The man shakes his head again, this time more frantically.

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, sending a dizzying wave through his body. "No? Because if you told me what happened, I would consider letting you live."

The flash of hope that widens the man's eyes tells Jeongguk everything he needs to know, and he advances quickly—crowds the man's space. A quick glance over his shoulder shows the rest of the group is still broken out into chaos with men attempting to help others put out the remaining fire and get to their feet. A few blurry bodies are on the outskirts of the crowd, but nobody appears to be approaching him.

"Tell me what happened," Jeongguk growls as he turns back to the man at the bar.

"J-J-Jae s-said if w-we cover for him, we'd get a cut."

"A cut of what?" Jeongguk asks.

The man screws up his face as if Jeongguk's question is ridiculous. "Money, s-sir."

"Money for what?"

The man shakes his head. He knows he is fucked—that he has already said too much—and he nibbles on his lip, which trembles. Jeongguk brings the kunai up to the man's throat and presses the tip against his jugular notch.

"Answer me."

"P-pills!" the man shouts. "Narcotics and party drugs. He t-took them off the last shipment while you were distracted."

"Distracted, hmm? Tell me, what was I distracted by?"

At this, the man begins to panic and twist as if hoping that he can get away somehow. So there is more to this story than them simply stealing from him to turn a profit. Interesting.

"Boss?" a voice comes from behind Jeongguk, and he grits his teeth hard and pushes the kunai into the man's jugular, turning his face away from the spray of blood. The man gargles and thrashes, and Jeongguk takes a step back and allows him to fall to the floor and bleed out.

One down, fourteen to go.

Jeongguk pops his guard back into his mouth, spins on the balls of his feet with a wide plastic smile, and finds two worried-looking men standing before him. He reaches into his shirt, pulls another kunai off the bandolier of blades strapped to his chest, and begins to twirl them both—one on each index finger.

The major downside of having to be this high to commit mass murder is that his aim is shit. The entire point of having so many knives strapped to him is to throw them at his targets without needing to immediately retrieve them. Instead, Jeongguk straps the belt around his chest as a means to ground himself—a tight, scratchy hug.

Jeongguk advances on the two men. One stumbles backward and begins to run back to the group while the other gets an angry glint in his eye and comes in swinging. Jeongguk guards his punch by driving the tip of a knife through the man's forearm, then punches his other knife into the man's neck. For good measure, Jeongguk kneels as the man falls and slices his throat open to quicken his bleeding.

Two down, thirteen to go.

When Jeongguk stands, stumbling as he finds his balance, he notices some men crowding around him while others attempt to escape. Jeongguk feels himself fly into a blind rage as he approaches the small group and begins punching and stabbing, absorbing hits that are nowhere near as damaging or lethal as the ones he doles out. He barely feels it when fists make impact with him, and he giggles wildly when one punch lands on the kunai under his shirt and slices the man's knuckles.

"You ruined my shirt, you fuck," he complains through his mouthguard as he punches a knife into the soft tissue and cartilage the man's face, still giggling like a madman.

A glance around the space shows Jae in his corner, three men at the door attempting to beat it down, and two men on the far-end wall huddled up. A couple men groan and crawl against the floor, and Jeongguk has no idea how many of them are dead or dying, so he advances on the three by the door.

Jeongguk takes a chance and flings one of the knives, and it whirs satisfactorily and hits one of the men in the shoulder. The man yelps and falls to his knees, clearly assuming something far worse has happened to him, and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to advance and take the other two out while he is down.

A knife to the throat here, a headbutt followed by a knife to the throat there, and Jeongguk is bending behind the last man, pulling the knife from his back and reaching around to the front of his neck to slice it open. Jeongguk gets to his feet, stretches his neck from side to side, and turns to survey the scene.

The two men who were by the far wall must have gained courage, and they come barreling toward Jeongguk. One slips on blood and falls back against the floor with a loud smack, but the other manages to get close enough to attempt to slash at Jeongguk with a piece of broken glass. Once again, Jeongguk blocks the punch with a knife to the forearm, then punches a knife into the throat, watching with a plastic grin as the man falls to the ground.

Groans and gargles fill the space, and Jeongguk catches his breath as the room sways and twists before him. His mouth is dry, and the smell of brassy blood is overwhelming, and Jeongguk wants to curl up in a ball and take a nice big nap.

On the floor, the man who had slipped and fallen convulses, and Jeongguk wonders if his head has been pierced by broken glass. Nobody seems to be getting up, so Jeongguk surmises he must have fourteen down with only one left.

Jeongguk wipes the back of his wrist against his forehead, undoubtedly coating it in sweat and blood, and he turns back to Jae. Blood runs down Jae's wrist, and he shakes like a leaf on a tree—he has clearly been attempting to pull himself from the handcuff. Jeongguk pulls his mouthguard out, sucks in some of the saliva that has pooled, and shoves it into his pocket beside its case.

"Last man standing," he slurs as his high becomes unbearable. "You have three minutes to spill before I kill you."

The tangy scent of urine hits Jeongguk's nose, and he looks down to find a large wet spot on the front of Jae's jeans. He shakes his head and scoffs.

"It wasn't my idea," Jae whimpers. Jeongguk cocks his head and studies the man's face—is he crying? What a fucking wimp.

"Whose idea was it?"

"You know whose!" Jae shouts. "The same family that sent the man to fuck up your boxer! The same family who attacked your whore! They're sending people from all sides to throw you off your game and shake you up!"

"My whore?" Jeongguk growls as he grabs Jae tightly by the jaw. "Jimin isn't my whore, and speaking about one of my family men like that is a good way to get a knife shoved into your filthy little piss hole."

Fear visibly shakes through Jae, who thrashes in Jeongguk's hold. He even grabs onto Jeongguk's wrist with his free hand in a feeble attempt to yank Jeongguk's grip off of his jaw. Jeongguk headbutts him again and squeezes tighter as a dizzying quake rocks through him.

"Why did you accept her offer? Were you really stupid enough to think you wouldn't get caught?"

Jae scoffs and shakes his head, appearing to act tough with tears on his cheeks. "She has men on the inside."

Jeongguk squints, losing his ability to see clearly even as close to Jae as he is. "On the inside? On my team?"

"Well...she did. You killed most of them."

"Who are the others?" Jeongguk demands, and Jae laughs.

"You got everything from me that you could," Jae says. Jeongguk thinks he sees Jae's eyes flash to the side and back, but it takes him too long to process it before Jae mutters, "Kill me and be done with it."

Jeongguk takes a step back, ready to drive the knife into Jae's throat and move on, but an arm snakes around Jeongguk's torso and hot, piercing pain hits him on his side. Jeongguk drives a knife into the hand around his waist, piercing his own skin from the impact, and he yanks the knife away in time for another piercing pain to hit him between his shoulder blades.

Only as Jeongguk spins and finds one of the blood-soiled men holding a jagged, bloodied piece of glass does Jeongguk realize he has been stabbed. He grunts as he thrusts both of his knives into the man's guts and shoves the man back until he slips on blood and falls to the floor.

"Fuck!" Jeongguk shouts in frustration as he spins around and slices Jae's throat open in a broad, sloppy motion. He does not want to deal with stab wounds of all fucking things.

Jeongguk slowly steps back and looks around the room, swaying as he turns and attempts to survey the carnage left behind. Everything is a blur of reds and browns with hints of whites and blues, and Jeongguk stumbles toward the bar to sit down on a stool and catch his breath.

The pain in his side and back tingle-throb, and Jeongguk attempts to remember how to tend to a stab wound, but all he can do is grind his teeth and rest back against the bar top. When the door to the club flies open, Jeongguk doesn't register who approaches until he hears Seokjin's nagging shouts and feels him prodding at Jeongguk's torso.

"Yah, are you injured?" Seokjin shouts, fussing about at Jeongguk's side where his hand is weakly pressing against a wound.

Jeongguk hisses and nods, and then he giggles at the thought of any of these men thinking they could kill him. How stupid of them.

"Where did you park?" Seokjin asks as he gets Jeongguk onto his feet with his arm draped over Seokjin's broad shoulders.

"Front," Jeongguk mutters.

All the world is a blur of lights and colors, streaked and sloppy before Jeongguk's eyes. He steps into the cool night air, and the security guard says something he does not comprehend, and then he fumbles down the short set of steps, onto the sidewalk.

"Jeongguk, I don't see any of your cars," Seokjin says as he shakes him roughly.

Pulled to alertness for a split moment, Jeongguk hums and says, "Ol' minty," while flinging his hand in the direction of his bike.

"Wh—Jeonggukah!" Seokjin shouts. "You said you drove here! I asked you if y—oh, this is unbelievable."

"I dr—I drove my bike," Jeongguk slurs.

Jeongguk is led to his bike where the blurry valet attendant is bowed before him, and Seokjin gets him to straddle the small metal cargo rack above the back tire.

"Feet on the pegs!" Seokjin barks as he lifts Jeongguk's feet one at a time and places them onto small metal pegs that are screwed onto his back tire.

Jeongguk somewhat obeys—he has done this many times before—but his feet slip a few times until he is steady. Then Seokjin moves the bicycle away from the bike rack, tells Jeongguk to hold on tight, and once Jeongguk wraps his arms around Seokjin's ribs and leans his head on his back, they are off.

Seokjin smells nice. Like cigars and the expensive cologne that Hoseok insists he wears. He takes in a nice deep breath and groans happily before letting it out. The night air feels cool on his skin, and he smiles as Seokjin drives them home.

From time to time, Jeongguk hears an unintelligible grunt or groan, but he ignores it; he will undoubtedly hear it again once he has sobered up, so there is no use trying to strain the few remaining brain cells that are still working to try to make sense of it now.

The ride from the city to the property is usually around thirty minutes when it is just Jeongguk. He has no concept of how much time has passed as he attempts to watch a tree line blur by, and although the scenery is familiar and Jeongguk thinks he has some idea of how close they could be, he does not dwell on it. Instead, he closes his eyes.

When the bicycle finally skids to a stop, Jeongguk nearly topples over. Seokjin swears and mutters, and Jeongguk attempts to place his feet on the concrete driveway, but his legs melt like hot wax, and he sinks downward as the weight of his collapsing bicycle drags him to the ground.

Seokjin manages to get Jeongguk untangled from his vehicle and picks him up over his shoulder, carrying Jeongguk potato-sack-style toward a light that shines out into the night through some windows. He hears the mechanical beeping of the locking mechanism and then the door crashes open. The sounds of three particular voices gasping tells Jeongguk that he has been brought to Yoongi's house.

"Taehyung," Seokjin mutters. "I think he's been stabbed. There doesn't seem to be a lot of blood loss; I think he's delirious from being high."

There is some shuffling around, and Jeongguk hangs over Seokjin's shoulder, feeling sleepy and, frankly, completely unbothered by anything.

So he may have gotten stabbed once or twice, so what? He found out more information, and he got to let go of some of his pent-up rage. His jaw aches, however, and he wishes he had not taken his mouthguard out.

Jeongguk is transferred to a different strong person, and Jeongguk wraps his arms around the different neck and hugs closely. After a split moment, he realizes by the clean smell of lotion and eucalyptus shampoo that it is Taehyung, and Jeongguk smiles as he carries him back outside.

"Stabbed?" Taehyung mutters curiously as the night air hits Jeongguk's cheeks and makes him shiver.

The walk to Taehyung's house from Yoongi's is short, and Jeongguk buries his face into Taehyung's neck as he mutters, "Mmhmm."

Silence falls, save for the crunch of dirt under Taehyung's shoe. Jeongguk thinks he begins to fall asleep, roused by the sound of Taehyung's deep, soft voice.

"Are the wounds deep?"

Jeongguk shakes his head, although, truth be told, he has no idea. There is a wet spot on his back, but it does not feel very big, and the one on his side is pressed against Taehyung.

"How many bodies?" Taehyung asks softly.

The sounds of Taehyung's feet crunching over gravel feels oddly calming to Jeongguk, and for some inexplicable reason, he feels the urge to cry.

"Fifteen," Jeongguk mutters with a tremble. He is cold, and he grips onto Taehyung tighter in search of warmth.

Taehyung tsks and chuckles. "So reckless. You don't have to do these jobs alone, you know? You can take one of us."

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters, feeling defeated and miserable.

Another chuckle comes from Taehyung, instantly lifting Jeongguk's spirits and making him feel okay. "Don't apologize, baby. We just worry about you."

Jeongguk nods against Taehyung's neck and mutters, "Okay."

"I can't believe how mean you are to me," Taehyung whines in a mocking tone as he leans the two of them forward to punch in the password to his front door.

Taehyung opens the door and switches on a foyer light, then makes his way down a short ramp into his basement, where his exam rooms and surgical equipment are. The fluorescent lighting makes Jeongguk groan and squeeze his eyes closed.

"First, Hoseok tells me you brought home some nobody to fuck," Taehyung continues to mock-pout, "and then you show up all cut and bruised. Starting to make me think you don't need me anymore, baby."

Jeongguk knows Taehyung is being playful, but he cannot stop himself from taking it very personally, and the sloshing of heightened emotions has him feeling incredibly sad.

Taehyung means more to him than anyone in the world, which is precisely why Jeongguk tends to keep him at arms-length sometimes. Tears spill from Jeongguk's eyes.

"S-sorry, hyung."

"Awe, my poor crybaby," Taehyung sing-songs as he sets Jeongguk onto a leather exam table covered in a white paper sheet.

Jeongguk continues to hold onto Taehyung tightly until two strong hands wrap around his wrists and pull his arms down. He does not want Taehyung to see him cry, even though it would not be the first time—nor the last.

"Are you bored of me, Ggukie? Is that why you don't call me anymore?"

"D-don't want to bother you," Jeongguk whimpers pathetically, swiftly crashing from his high and feeling the full array of his emotions.

Jeongguk opens his eyes a crack to find Taehyung hovering over him and unbuttoning his soiled shirt. Taehyung chuckles at the sight of the blades and reaches around Jeongguk’s back to undo the belt and pull it free. Then he pulls Jeongguk's shirt away, making Jeongguk shiver, and he surveys the first wound.

"Not too deep," Taehyung says as he meets Jeongguk's gaze and smiles. For the first time in a while, Jeongguk can clearly see in front of him, and he thinks Taehyung is more beautiful than ever. Taehyung quietly studies his face. "You seem to be coming back to me. How do you feel?"

Terrible, Jeongguk thinks. He can't tell if he is fully coming down or if the second pill still has more high to give him, but he trembles and his bones feel restless in his skin, and he cannot keep his emotions from teetering from one extreme to the other, especially with Taehyung looking down at him the way he does.

"Shitty," is all Jeongguk says.

"Let's get you into a nice warm bath," Taehyung suggests with a grin that makes Jeongguk melt. "We'll clean your wounds, and then you'll show me what you did to that pretty boy who you picked up this morning. Sound good?"

Jeongguk will need a lot of cocaine to keep up with Taehyung, especially in this state, and he nods and attempts a smile, feeling his teeth clatter in his mouth.

"That's my good baby," Taehyung groans in a tone so deep, it makes a chill rock through Jeongguk.

There is only one person who Jeongguk lets his guard down for—lets do anything he pleases. And although Taehyung is absolutely terrifying and will undoubtedly be the death of him, Jeongguk cannot tell him no.

thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoy these extras. i lament only writing from one point of view, so these have been a lot of fun for me. hopefully it's not too confusing plopping them into the story as early as chapter 10.

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#jungkook mafia #yoongi mafia #bts mafia #bts poly #bts angst #fic: collateral #Spotify

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