#why the fuck are there four banners at once

[shiimazu]

Posting Jiaoqiu one last time before doing the quest because I'm so damn scared he will die

Why is he and Moze so freaky with eachother btw-

UPDATE (SPOILERS!!)

OMG I'M SO HAPPY HES ALIVE SHSHSHSH

He didn't deserve to go blind tho 😭😭😭

My pookiebear

[slvttyplum]

banner: @roseschoices divider: @cafekitsune

choso never really got mad, he didn't feel the need to get all up in arms about things he couldn't t control, the only thing he could do was control his own emotions and that's what he did most of the time.

growing up with brothers aren't easy, they turn you over, rat you out, get you in trouble, everything under the sun, so choso was used to teasing and rough play, but what he wasn't used to was seeing you practically naked trying to go out the house.

his blood didn't immediately boil at the sight, he tried to stay calm of course and question the situation, like why the fuck his partner was walking out of the house with a bikini top and shorts that barely covered the bottom of your ass.

“oh! im just having a beach day with my friends.” the innocent smile on your face convinced him that you weren't aware that your outfit wasn't necessarily appropriate to wear, so he didn't shoot you down too quick and instead put the same smile on his face.

“is that right? i didn't know. do you have a cover-up?” trying to slide in the subliminal quickly and smoothly, but once he heard your answer, his blood ran over and told you to please change your outfit.

“i… choso i just got this outfit.” those words sliding into his ears and sliding right out, he couldn't give one fuck. normally he wouldn't care what you wore, but that right there was a no no. you're going on a day trip with your friends without him wearing that, whose attention were you trying to get?

there was no need for him to keep trying to explain to you why you shouldn't even be wearing that outfit in the first place, but his dick thought otherwise, a prime example as to why you shouldn't be wearing it.

if it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone else.

“go change.” his jaw clenching and his arms folded as he stares you down, waiting for you to budge or break down, giving up and go change.”

“no, bye.” you slide on one flip-flops before choso walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist and bending down and leaning closer to your ear.

“go change for me. don't be difficult.” his breath warm and sliding over your ear then neck, almost making you collapse, but you had to hold your own.

“no.” with that final no, choso picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. it was over for you, when he walked to the bedroom and tossed you on the bed, you knew you weren't making it to the beach.

choso stripped your shorts off revealing a bikini and not even five minutes later, the both of you were naked, and you were on all fours arched with your head against the pillow and chosos dick sliding in and out of you.

moans falling out of your mouth as his body clashes with yours and his hands roam your body, sending chills and then tingles shortly after. your eyes rolling up to the top of your eyelid and your body jolting every time he hit your sweet spot, the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you to handle.

your hands try to grip the sheet, but choso puts his hands over yours, balls them into a fist and puts them behind your back.

choso couldn't stop fucking you. the thought of someone else seeing you in that outfit made him upset, his blood boiling, turning into arousal.

he fucked you into the early morning. that day forward you never wore anything to piss him off, or maybe you did, getting fucked by an angry choso was painfully hot.

[cherienymphe]

White Lines & White Knights

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, pr*stitution, power imbalance, classism, mentions of death, jealousy, humiliation, revenge p*rn, drug dealer!Rafe, drug use, Pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You and Rafe are using each other until you decide that's not what you want anymore, and the spoiled rich kid will do whatever it takes to have his expensive toy back in his bed.

⭑

Your door shut behind you with a resounding click, and once in the comfort of your home, you took the time to decompress. You took advantage of your much needed reprieve, the back of your head grazing the wood as you allowed your eyes to fall closed. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, and you wondered if a day would come where it ever wouldn’t. After all, this wasn’t exactly “new” anymore…

It had been five months since you buried your mom, five months since you discovered the mountain of debt she’d done an impressive job of hiding from you, and five months since you thought you’d be homeless on the street in less than one. In two weeks, you’d dealt with a loss you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another forty years or so and took on the kind of responsibility you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another three.

Your mom died 152 days ago…

…and you’d started fucking Rafe Cameron less than a month later.

You liked to pretend to not know why you slept with Kildare’s prime rich boy that fateful Saturday night, but you were far more self aware than you wanted to be. Even if you weren’t, it wasn’t exactly some mysterious string of decisions that lead to being tangled up in the sheets with Sarah’s asshole of an older brother. You didn’t need to pay someone to diagnose you.

You were grieving.

It was really just that simple, and the monetary stress on top of that drove you to find comfort in strange drinks and hard drugs. To this day you still didn’t know if Rafe just happened to be at the right place at the right time or if he heard whispers about John B.’s best friend snorting pills and getting shit faced when her usual crowd was looking the other way, but either way, the stuffy Kook clearly saw an opportunity to kill several birds with one stone.

“First two lines are free,” he’d told you that night, the bass of the music downstairs muffled by the expensive walls of some girl’s house.

You remembered how you’d chuckled, drunkenly shaking your head.

“Well, two lines is all I’m doing, I guess,” you’d murmured, throwing your hands up.

Rafe’s smirk had been cruel, a mocking glint in his blue eyes.

“What?” he’d dragged out, head tilted. “Spent all that life insurance money, already?”

Any other time and Rafe’s insensitivity might’ve upset you, but at the time you’d been drunk out of your mind and looking for more ways to forget the sudden absence in your life.

“I can’t imagine why Sarah hates you,” you’d sarcastically replied, approaching the impressive desk and leaning over to inhale a line.

You wiped your nose as you straightened, lashes fluttering as you ignored the feeling of Rafe’s gaze on you.

“I’ll be lucky if I even have a house to live in next week.”

The words had come out slurred, accompanied by a light chuckle, and deep down you’d felt the flutter of stress that you’d been desperately ignoring for weeks. You’d quickly snorted the other line, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Turns out my mom was skilled at hiding more than just illnesses…”

You remembered the silence—from both you and Rafe—and how in that moment you’d allowed yourself a solid four seconds of lingering on the reality of your predicament. In those four seconds, your eyes had watered and your lips had trembled and your throat had tightened, and after those four seconds, you were turning to Rafe with a haughty smile.

“Guess you won’t be finding a new client in me, huh?” you’d wondered with a shrug, finding a seat on the desk.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been unreadable as he eyed you, sitting in the chair at the desk, legs spread as he ran his eyes over you—slowly and in a way you didn’t hate at the time. You hadn’t been able to tell what he was thinking, although looking back, you wondered how it wasn’t so obvious to you then. Maybe because it was just too cruel of a thought, and while it was no secret Rafe was a spoiled asshole, you had never once thought of him as cruel.

Rafe had merely shrugged.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” he’d slowly said, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards just a tad. “Besides…”

You’d watched him stand, rounding the desk to come and tower over you where you sat.

“I like to think of myself as a pretty ethical kind of guy…”

You’d started to snort at that before his gaze met yours again, and you found yourself swallowing whatever you were about to say. You hadn’t done a thing when Rafe reached up to touch your arm, the feel of his finger so light. You hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the way your heart skipped a beat at both his close proximity and the change in atmosphere. You hadn’t been able to ignore—however—the heat that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“...and I’ve been known to meet people halfway. Accept whatever they can offer…”

You remembered your internal conflict that night.

You’d been drunk and high and sad…not stupid. You knew exactly what Rafe was insinuating to you, and you’d struggled with the idea of really sleeping with Rafe Cameron for more drugs. The man was far from unattractive, sure that if drugs weren’t involved you’d still consider sleeping with him. If you’d believed in any of that, you’d imagine that your mom was turning over in her grave. At the time though, you hadn’t been quite sure as to what you believed in, so when he took your silence for consent, leaning in and touching your nose with his…

You hadn’t stopped him when he closed the distance.

You hadn’t even known whose house you were at, only internally apologizing to them for having sex on their expensive desk. You didn’t know if it was the drugs or the alcohol or simply Rafe Cameron, but it was easily the best sex you’d ever had in your life, and at one point you’d really considered how much better it could possibly be to fuck him without the condom.

You had no idea that you’d eventually find out.

Once dressed, you’d walked home with a small bag of pills and a satisfied grin. You knew that your friends would host some kind of intervention if they ever found out, but all you’d been able to focus on was the simple fact that fucking Rafe Cameron for a little coke and pills wasn’t sounding like the worst idea. Of course, if you’d known that you’d eventually start fucking him for your livelihood, you might’ve made different choices that night.

You pressed your hand to your face and pushed away from the door, eager to start the shower and scrub the stench of him off of you. Per routine, you took the money out of your pocket before getting undressed, eyeing the wad of one hundreds that now sat on your nightstand. Two grand was nothing to someone like him, but to someone like you, it made all the difference in the world.

…and Rafe knew that.

He’d known that when he handed you a thousand dollars one night, the coke in your system just starting to hit. You’d looked up at him from where you sat in confusion, hesitantly wrapping your hand around the money as you alternated between eyeing it and eyeing him. You hadn’t known how to feel about it, especially since it had only been moments ago when he was inside of you…and there he was handing you a grand in hundreds.

“Don’t look like that,” Rafe had chuckled, walking to his dresser in search of a shirt. “You know you need the money.”

He wasn’t wrong…and that was the problem.

Unless you hit a lucky streak in life, you’d always need the money, and that was exactly why you were in the predicament you were in—four months later and putting up with the monster that was Rafe Cameron just to keep a roof over your head. The thought brought tears to your eyes, positive now that your mom could see you and was beyond disappointed in you. 

Her disappointment could only be outdone by your own.

You were in a situation that you couldn’t get out of, on the verge of ending this arrangement so many times before asking yourself what better way could you pay your mom’s debts and survive? It wasn’t easy money by far, but it was fast money, and it was the kind of money that would take months to make at whatever low paying job you’d find around Outer Banks. Someone like you rarely got hired at the country club or working for some rich snob who wiped their ass with the kind of money you needed.

Rafe knew this too.

Tears kissed your eyes as you scrubbed your skin raw, wishing that you could scrub away the nasty bruise right along with the sweat and grime. You winced every time you touched it, cursing the blond and feeling one of those moments where you considered blocking him and moving on from this pathetic era in your life for good.

Fucking Rafe Cameron for drugs didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, fucking him for money seemed like an even better one…until that entitled attitude started to extend to the woman he was paying good money to have access to. You remembered the first time you opposed something he wanted to do, the way in which he ignored you, the way he merely pressed your face into the pillow to shut you up.

It was the first time you felt truly icky about this whole situation.

Not even just icky.

…but afraid.

“I don’t pay you to tell me what you will and won’t do in bed,” he’d chuckled at you like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You’d still been trembling and wiping mascara from your cheeks.

“I pay you because I want to fuck you,” he’d slowly whispered to you, leaning in. “...and you let me because you don’t want to be sleeping on the beach.”

He’d held your gaze for what felt like too long, impressing upon you the true dynamic of this arrangement, and you remembered the unease that had festered in your gut that day. Maybe all the drugs and alcohol hadn’t allowed you to fully look at this arrangement for what it was and the power imbalance here, but you had for the first time that day, and you hadn’t liked it.

You liked it even less now, wrapping the towel around you and wondering how you were ever going to get out of this predicament you’d put yourself into.

“My family’s going out of town for the weekend,” the familiar blond mumbled to you as he inhaled a familiar powdery substance off the back of his hand. “Pack a bag when you get home, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, huffing instead.

“I can’t spend the whole weekend on Figure 8,” you told him. “I have plans.”

Rafe nodded, and you hated the smile that danced across his lips.

“Okay, uh, be ready at 8, I don’t want-.”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you cut him off, shrugging. “I can’t stay at your house all weekend.”

You watched him watch you, slowly swiping his tongue between his lips as a frown started to take over. His dirty blond hair kissed his brows, and the longer the silence stretched, the more nervous you grew. You watched as Rafe glanced away, seemingly deep in thought before those baby blues of his rested on you, much colder than they were a few seconds ago.

“What the hell am I paying you for?” he whispered.

The question was rhetorical, and you swallowed.

“Rafe…I’ve barely seen my friends in months. I finally made plans to meet up with them for more than five minutes and-.”

“...and whose fault is that?” he shrugged.

You frowned at him.

“Nobody told you to go off on a bender when your mom kicked the bucket…” you blinked at his callousness. “Maybe you should’ve been finding comfort in your friends instead of drugs and vodka…and me.”

He finished his sentence with a soft—and yet cruel—smile.

“I pay you good money—great money even!—to be available when I want you to be, and unless you’ve found some other rich asshole to open your legs for, which I doubt…be ready tomorrow at 8.”

He was standing, now, looking down at you where you sat on the bed. The harsh reminder of your roles here had you looking away, and Rafe turned away when he rightfully took your silence as confirmation. You stared at the wall for a few moments before turning to stare at his back, thinking to yourself that this couldn’t go on much longer. Whether it took 1 or 5 jobs, you couldn’t keep relying on Rafe Cameron forever.

What was once a weekly occurrence had turned into something entirely other, and it hadn’t bothered you so much when your mother’s death was still so fresh and you were seeking solace in the worst coping mechanisms known to man—including isolation. Now, however, you were waking up to the choices you’d made and you hated the feeling of being inebriated and being surrounded by people you barely knew.

You hated being away from your friends.

“I didn’t even know you’d gotten a job,” John B. said to you hours later, looking disappointed but understanding. “JJ’s gonna be real disappointed. He’s been talking all week about having you try some new weed he got.”

You gave a light laugh at that, a pang in your chest at how much you missed doing stupid shit with them.

“Yeah,” you sadly said. “The world—and bills—doesn’t stop just because my mom died.”

The brunette grew quiet at that, worriedly eyeing you now.

“You doing okay…?”

You sighed at that, looking out over the yard of The Chateau, fiddling with your fingers as you thought of a certain blond.

“I’ve been better, but…I’ve been worse too.”

Your answer was honest, and you briefly wondered what John B. would think if he knew just how bad ‘worse’ had been. You didn’t think any of them would hate you if they knew the full extent of just how far you’d fallen, but you knew they’d have a hard time wrapping their head around it. The drugs and alcohol were one thing, but Rafe Cameron was entirely another. The man was the worst example of a Kook if there was one, representing every bad trait attributed to them.

Your friends would not understand you essentially sacrificing your self respect for money and drugs.

Sometimes you didn’t understand it either. 

Most especially when Rafe had his hands around your neck.

He picked you up at 8 on the dot Friday night—a man of his word if nothing else—and less than a hour later you were bent over his father’s desk as he pounded into you. Your head was hanging off of it, fighting hard to not scrape your nails against the dark mahogany. It wasn’t the first time Rafe fucked you on Ward’s desk, and you doubted that it would be the last time. There’d even been a few rare occasions when he fucked you in the older man’s bed, and you didn’t know what complex the blond had that fueled these decisions, but you weren’t a psychologist so you figured it wasn’t anything to concern yourself with.

Despite the tight grip on your throat, a choked moan managed to escape every time Rafe pushed his cock into you. Sweat made his skin glisten, and you were sure you fared no better. His hair wasn’t so neat, now, and you had the stray thought that you preferred it that way. Rafe being so far from ugly definitely made this arrangement easier to swallow down at times, but other times it just made you angry.

How was it fair that someone seemingly had everything, including the big dick to match?

Rafe walked around like he was God’s gift to the world, possessing one of the most rotten personalities you’d ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, and he seemed to be rewarded with it with everything the average person could only dream about. As if any of that wasn’t enough, you practically rewarded him with even more by essentially telling him he could do whatever he wanted so long as the price was right.

It made you disgusted with yourself at times.

When he pressed a hand to your stomach, hips slowing to a pace that made your breath hitch, you squeezed your eyes shut. In the quiet office, the sound of his cock disappearing between your folds was loud, the wet noise telling you that there’d no doubt be a mess left on Ward’s desk when this was all said and done. You heard Rafe curse, and you didn’t have the energy to lift your head from where it hung off the desk.

“...and to think,” he panted from above you. “You were going to pass this up to sit around with those dirty Pogues.”

At this, you did attempt to sit up, a hand against his chest and one on the desk as he thrusted into you.

“Those ‘dirty Pogues’ are my friends,” you forced out, lashes fluttering. “...and clearly you forget that I’m one too.”

Rafe merely chuckled at that, perfect teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“Yeah, but you’re my dirty Pogue so it’s a little different.”

His words had your frown deepening, disgust filling your chest at the way he talked about you while literally fucking you. Completely turned off, you turned your head away, attempting to separate yourself from him. That haughty laugh reached your ears, and to your dismay, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“What…?” he lazily drawled. “You don’t like the sound of that?”

“You’re being an asshole, get off of me…”

He jerked his hips against you, making you gasp, and you squirmed in his arms as you fought to get away. Rafe leaned in to harshly nip his teeth at your cheek, his movements growing rough, causing the desk to shake.

“I’ve spent too much money on you to not say whatever the hell I want,” he evenly said. “So, yeah, at this point, I’ll confidently say I practically own you.”

Tears kissed your eyes at the disgusting words, and fed up with your resistance, Rafe merely placed a hand between your breasts before harshly shoving you back down. You winced at the action, but you had no time to fully linger on it as Rafe started to roughly plunge his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours reaching your ears. He wouldn’t allow you to sit up, both of his hands wrapped around your wrists now as he leaned over you.

This felt too reminiscent of the time he’d pressed your face into the bed, telling you to relax as he pressed the head of his cock just above where your folds were. You recalled the uncomfortable feeling and the tears that stained the pillow as he slowly fucked you in a place no one ever had before. The deja vu of it all had your mind wandering, eyes defocusing as you just waited for it to be over. It seemed like Rafe’s grunts sounded from above you forever, and when he finally came onto your stomach with a low moan, you didn’t move for some time.

You were slow to sit up as he got dressed, trembling as you steaded yourself for what you were about to say.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

The words came out whispered, but in the quiet study, you might as well have yelled them. Rafe didn’t acknowledge you, and you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Frustrated with his refusal to take you seriously, you hopped off of Ward’s desk, angrily grabbing your clothes.

“I’m serious, Rafe. After this weekend…this is done,” you continued, voice firmer, now. “Don’t call me or text me or worry about any more money. I can’t rely on you forever anyway.”

By now, Rafe was actually listening to you, and you avoided his gaze as you got dressed. His silence was loud, and when you were finally decent again, only then did you lift your gaze to glance at him. His visage was unreadable, and after some time, he merely blinked at you.

“If I remember correctly, per your own words, your mom had enough debt ‘to file for bankruptcy’.”

His words made you sharply inhale, and you bit your tongue as he ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to tame the damp locks.

“Don’t ruin your life just because you’re pissed at me,” he coldly added.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Personal feelings aside, I can’t rely on you forever, Rafe. That’s just the truth. I have to figure something out eventually, and there’s no time like the present,” your voice shook as he fixed you with an unnerving stare. “I miss my friends, and I don’t want to be the sad, damaged girl running to Rafe Cameron just so I don’t feel anything anymore.”

The blond followed your lead, folding his arms over his own chest as he leaned against the wall, staring you down with that annoying crooked smile.

“...and where exactly do you plan to find a job that pays you what I do?”

“There are jobs, Rafe. I’ll find one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone nor the look he was giving you as he studied you. He was looking down on you, and yes while that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, this time was different. He was looking down his nose like he didn’t believe in you, like he expected you to be crawling back to him in no time, begging him to fuck you again.

After a few moments, that crooked smile curved even more, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“Well, I wish you luck…”

His voice didn’t match the words that came out of his mouth, and his gaze most certainly didn’t.

“I literally called this morning and was told over the phone that you all were hiring...and now I get here, and I’m being told you’re not…?”

You tried to keep the skepticism out of your tone, but your frustration at your predicament was bubbling up and threatening to be unleashed on the lone man before you. The inside of the country club was practically empty—a slow Tuesday—and you briefly glanced around at the two staffers in the whole room. Sure, you could write it off to a slow day that didn’t need a full staff, but something in you told you that it was more than that.

You didn’t believe the man in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, miss. Whoever you talked to got it wrong. I’m sorry for the miscommunication on our end,” was his only explanation.

You didn’t dare bother to point out that both he and whoever you’d spoken with on the phone sounded damn near identical.

When it became obvious that this conversation was over, you turned away with a small huff, breezing outside to a familiar dark car. Kie was standing by it, arms uncomfortably crossed over her chest, glaringly obvious that she’d rather be anywhere but here despite being from ‘here’.

“Well…?” she wondered as you got closer.

“They’re not hiring,” you mumbled as you slid into the passenger seat.

She joined you inside the vehicle a moment later, a frown on her face.

“...but you called.”

“I know.”

There was a beat of silence before she scoffed, reaching for her door handle.

“If this is because you aren’t some rich snob looking for play money…”

She trailed off when you spoke up.

“No, I don’t…I don’t think it’s that,” you stopped her. “Let’s just go.”

She eyed you for a few moments, frown deepening.

“Are you sure? Y/N, this is like the fourth place you’ve been to today,” she pointed out. “...and I don’t want to add my stress to your stress, but it’s kind of fucked up.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t possible for you to be any more stressed than you already were, simply signaling for her to drive. You could feel her eyes periodically landing on you as she did, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering why the universe had it out for you.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen or talked to Rafe, weeks since you ended your little arrangement, and weeks since you’d had a consistent source of income. It wasn’t a pretty nor respectable way to make money, but you’d been making money nonetheless. However, you couldn’t find it in you to continue sacrificing your self respect to keep sleeping with Rafe Cameron. You’d also been telling the truth when you told him you didn’t want to be this messed up sad thing anymore.

You had long let go of the drugs and cut back on the drinking, and now you’d dropped Rafe too.

You’d had hope…but now it was dwindling.

No one would hire you. In fact, no one had even allowed you far enough to officially apply just to get a foot into an interview. It was always the same. You’d call ahead so you didn’t waste your time, they’d tell you they were looking for people, and then the moment you actually showed up and introduced yourself, it was an entirely different story. It didn’t make any sense to you, and the thought of ever proving Rafe right made you want to be sick.

“How bad is it?” JJ asked you a few days later, the both of you away and isolated in some corner of some guy’s party.

You looked down at the weak drink in your hand, contemplating on whether or not to be honest.

“It’s…manageable.”

A whopper of a lie.

“...then why don’t I believe you? Come on, Y/N, it’s me. I know your mom wasn’t the best when it came to funds, and when she died…” he scoffed. “You weren’t exactly in any shape to march down to anyone’s job and fight for work just to keep things afloat.”

You looked away at that, throat tight.

“I’m honestly shocked you’ve kept it up for this long.”

If only he knew…

You felt his gaze on you as you wondered just how truthful you should be, but you reminded yourself that this was JJ. If he knew the full extent of everything, he’d be likely to rob a bank. Nevermind the fact that it would just make him ask more questions, like how you’d even managed to keep things afloat all this time. You didn’t think you could lie to him, and you didn’t think you could handle being on the receiving end of whatever look JJ would undoubtedly give you if you told him you’d been sleeping with Rafe to pay your bills.

You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that the subject of your thoughts walked through the doors to prevent this conversation from continuing. His presence shouldn’t have shocked you—the party was pretty mixed with people from all sides of the island after all—but it still gave you pause, and JJ noticed.

“This asshole,” you heard the blond murmur, rolling his eyes.

You were inclined to agree, and you shrunk in on yourself with your drink, unable to ignore the knowledge that Rafe was at the same party you were at. In the weeks you’d been free of him, you’d had time to really ponder on your dalliance, and while you’d long accepted your hand in your own life choices, it was now hard to ignore Rafe’s own opportunistic choices in the situation. Sure, yes, you fucked him for money…

…but what did it say about him that he was perfectly happy to enter an arrangement in which he kept you off of the streets so long as you opened your legs for him?

If he was a good guy he’d just…keep you off the streets.

Like JJ would if you ever told him the truth.

You’d just decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when you came face to face with the man himself, heart skipping a beat at his presence. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, and you had the sneaking suspicion he hadn’t been waiting for his turn.

“How’s the job search going?” was how he greeted you, and you hadn’t been able to keep the ire off of your face.

He softly laughed to himself at that, nodding.

“I figured you’d look a little something like that.”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and Rafe frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“You were, remember? And then you stopped…and that’s how you found yourself back at square one,” he reminded you.

The music traveled from downstairs into the dimly lit hallway, and you looked away from him just as he heaved a tired sigh.

“Do I need to apologize for calling you and your friends dirty Pogues? Is that what this is about?” he lazily wondered.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, and when you lifted your gaze, Rafe was rolling his eyes. He fixed you with a look, reaching up to touch your hair with a tsk.

“Come on, Y/N. You need me…”

He leaned in.

“We both know it, and you’re never going to find a job in this town.”

“You don’t know that,” you fired back, slapping his hand away as you took a step away from him.

Almost instantaneously, Rafe’s entire expression morphed, and you swallowed at the shadow that passed over his features. His pink lips pressed together, and those blue eyes hardened in a way you’d never been on the receiving end of. You watched his nostrils flare.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

The combination of his tone and his expression and his words gave you pause, and your brows pulled together as you stared at him. For a moment, the music in the house faded into the background as Kie’s words came to your mind. ‘It’s kind of messed up’, she’d said, and while you hadn’t given that much thought to the statement then…you certainly were now.

“What did you do?” you shakily asked the blond, skin growing cold.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was a lie anyway.

“I don’t know what you mean,” was all he said, one brow raised.

You felt tears kiss your eyes, and you felt silly for not putting the pieces together earlier. You didn’t know how, but somehow, Rafe had a hand in your lack of employment. It seemed exactly like something he’d do, but the only thing you couldn’t understand was why. Why do it? Just to see you fail? Just to feel like he’d won?

“Look, this little rebellious act…it’s cute and amusing and all…” he shrugged off with a small smile. “...but it’s silly. We both know you’re just going to end up right back under me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, moving past him.

“Yeah, and you knew that when you let me fuck you for drugs on some guy’s desk,” he threw at you, making you flinch and slow down. 

“I was going through things then, Rafe! I didn’t…” you huffed a sigh, turning to glower at him. “I didn’t care about things I most definitely should have. It’s different now.”

You threw your hands up.

“I’m different, now, and I don’t want to keep sacrificing my dignity and self respect just to keep a roof over my head. I don’t want to sleep with someone who views me and anyone like me as beneath him. It disgusts me, and unlike you, I have no interest in sleeping with people who I claim disgust me.”

You watched Rafe’s lip curl over his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s real respectable and noble and all, but I wonder how noble it’ll feel when you’re being evicted,” he spat at you, moving closer. “You’re not getting a job in this town, that I can promise you, so you keep this up for as long as you want to, but we both know how this ends.”

You leaned away from the finger in your face.

“I fucking own you,” he bit out, roughly grabbing your arm and yanking you close despite your resistance. “You named your price, and I paid it-.”

“For a service! Not a person,” you harshly whispered.

Rafe’s chuckle was cold as he stared you down, perfect teeth winking at you.

“You think you’re the only girl in Outer Banks willing to spread her legs for some money? You think I’d have to pay any of them half of what I paid you?” your stomach dropped at his words. “I’ve been a lot more generous than you realize.”

He roughly let you go, practically shoving you away from him, and you stumbled. He eyed you with an expression filled with promise, and when you turned away to finally find your friends and hopefully leave, you descended the stairs on unsteady legs.

You pushed against Rafe’s arm and chest as he held your chin in a tight grip. The vehicle you were next to hid you both from view, everyone on the beach none the wiser to what was happening in the parking lot. Your feet tripped over one another as he forced you back, trapping you between him and the metal contraption.

“Is that what you came up with? You think that pathetic Pogue is going to pay your bills? Give you a place to stay when that eviction notice is taped to your door?”

“Get…off…of me,” you snarled, finally shoving him away with difficulty.

Your breathing was heavy as you glared at the blond, lips trembling and heart racing at the downright evil glint in his blue eyes. You glanced over his shoulder for any way to get away from him, your frustration growing as he moved closer.

“Color me curious, but is it somehow more dignified to fuck someone like JJ instead of me?”

The jealousy dripping from his every word threw you for a loop, and you weren’t in the right headspace to even linger on how strange that was.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not like that,” you drunkenly choked out. “I don’t know why you feel like I need to answer to you about my personal choices.”

It had only been thirty minutes ago that you were dancing with your friends. JJ—ever the flirt—had gotten a bit handsy, but it was nothing unusual. He could get handsy with a tree, and you’d merely smiled at the behavior, ignorant to the heated gaze that was hyper focused on you. You hadn’t even realized he’d been following you when you went to get a drink from Hayward’s truck.

“Butt out of my life already. You’ve already done enough,” you hissed at him, moving to get past him when he stopped you.

“We’re not done talking-.”

His words were interrupted by your hand, the sound of the slap echoing in your ears, and he’d just harshly pushed you against the car at your back when a familiar voice interrupted you both.

“Get off of her!”

Kie was suddenly there, helping you in shoving him away, and she looked at Rafe like he’d lost his mind—like she’d bore witness to an even sinister side to him. The blond didn’t seem all that fazed by her presence, barely sparing her a glance as his jaw clenched, his eyes on you. Clearly he felt that whatever he was contemplating wasn’t worth it, because without another word—but not without a final scoff—he made his way back to the party on the beach.

Kie wrapped her arms around you when you started to cry.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

What a loaded question, and you realized that the truth was just on the edge of your tongue. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around her, collapsing under the weight of all your choices and what had led you to make them.

“Kie,” you started, voice trembling in her ear. “I have to tell you something.”

If she was horrified by the truth, she didn’t show it much. You could tell she was shocked as the words tumbled from your lips, her brown eyes stricken and face draining of color. You didn’t know what bothered her more—the drugs, the prostitution, or that both involved Rafe Cameron. As it turns out, it was none of those things.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you let us help you?” she tearfully wondered, looking between your eyes. “We know how hard it’s been for you, and we wanted to be there for you, but you…you just disappeared. You barely came around, and John B. heard things, but he didn’t want to believe them.”

She whispered that last part, and your chest ached at the thought of your friends hearing about your out of character behavior but feeling powerless to stop it, accepting it as part of your grief.

“Rafe’s a demented asshole,” she finally spoke on the elephant in the room. “...and we won’t let him win, okay?”

There was conviction in Kie’s voice, the kind of conviction that made you want to believe her, and so you nodded at her words.

She helped you straighten, wiping your face and taking you back to the party, quietly promising you that she wouldn’t say anything about any of this to the guys. She stuck to you for the rest of the night, and a week later, she made good on her promise, her parents shaking your hand as they welcomed you to their staff.

“We could always use the extra hands,” Mrs. Carrera told you one Friday evening. “It gets crazy busy, especially on the weekends.”

All the noise in the restaurant only validated her statement.

You’d been working at The Wreck for a week, and while it was nothing like what Rafe had been paying you, it was a job. It was a means of earning your own money that didn’t involve lowering yourself to the likes of Rafe Cameron. It was grueling, sure, and you sometimes wondered if it was truly worth the money, but then you’d think of the alternative, and you’d decide that it was worth something and that’s what mattered.

You hadn’t been paying that much attention when you approached your last table for the night, looking up from the apron at your waist and stopping in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here too,” Topper said, a fairly neutral greeting.

Topper may have been just as much of an asshole as his friends, but he at least played nice for the public. Your gaze traveled around the table, quickly looking away when it connected with a familiar blue.

“It’s…a fairly new gig,” you finally said, getting your notepad ready.

“Hey, if you’re going to use your friends for anything, might as well use them to become a productive member of society,” he told you, his tone now making you frown.

Opting to ignore the comment, you asked them what they wanted. You didn’t make eye contact with Rafe when he gave you his order, hand unsteady as you wrote it down. When you left them to go and get their drinks, you weren’t surprised to hear the scrape of a chair behind you. You were focused on rounding the counter, reaching for some clean glasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You didn’t forget your last encounter with the rich blond, tempted to ignore his presence altogether, but you were unfortunate enough to know how Rafe operated. Pausing in your movements, you turned to look at him, not surprised at all by the unhappy look on his face.

“I’m working, Rafe. What does it look like?”

You eyed the way his jaw ticked, finger gently tapping against the counter as he simply…stared you down. You glanced away, realizing that he didn’t have any power over you anymore. No, you weren’t completely out of the woods, but you had a secured source of income, and you’d happily struggle and scrape over sleeping with Rafe ever again.

“Go find some other struggling girl to take advantage of,” you finally said to him, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table without a backwards glance.

Working at The Wreck was hard work, and no matter how many shifts you covered and how many tips you got, it was still long and hard work for half the money Rafe had ever paid you. You knew this when Kie came to you about the job, but on the other side of it, you were so beyond grateful for it. You were still stressed, of course, your monetary problems not going away anytime soon, but it was the normal stress of the average working twenty-something.

It wasn’t the kind of worry that came from a violent and abusive lover.

Rafe had been by the restaurant a few times since that day, and each time was more nerve-wracking than the last. Sometimes you served him, sometimes you didn’t, but it didn’t really matter because his gaze always found its way to you either way. On the days when Kie worked too, she’d ask you if you wanted her to do something about him, but you always declined.

After all, what reason would you have her give to her parents for kicking out the son of Ward Cameron who—to their knowledge—hadn’t done anything to warrant it?

Maybe you should’ve listened to Kie though. While you didn’t know if that would’ve changed things, you at least would have felt better about attempting to do something. Perhaps it was the mere sight of watching you work—watching you earn money independent of him—that made him snap, made him drop all pretenses completely. Barring him from the restaurant while you were there might’ve triggered some out of sight, out of mind response. It might’ve forced him to slowly get over whatever this thing was that he had about you.

It might have…

…and it also might not have done shit. Perhaps nothing would’ve changed, and you still would’ve found yourself tearfully staring at Kie’s mom as you took off your apron for the last time.

It was a normal Saturday when the texts and emails came through. The busiest day of the week, the most packed the restaurant ever would be for the next six days, and you’d been placing some fries down in front of some family’s kid when the noise in the restaurant…changed. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint how it changed, but if you did your best, it was like the chatters went from excitement about their food or whatever happened during the week to something else entirely.

One single thing that everyone was talking about.

You weren’t getting paid to mind your patrons’ business, but you started to think differently about that when the people at the table you were next to started to heavily eye you. The whole restaurant was loud with hushed chatter, so you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the glances between the phones in their hands and you had you frowning.

You were slowly glancing around—realizing that that table wasn’t the only one—when you were yanked by your arm off the floor.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” you worriedly wondered the moment Kie had you hidden from view.

The look on her face was hard to read, but her parted lips and wide eyes told you that she was horrified. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unable to get the words out before slamming it shut, swallowing. The combination of her expression, her silence, and the lack of silence out there had a ball of dread forming deep in your gut.

“Kie,” you softly said. “What…what’s wrong?”

It took her a moment to speak.

“It’s Rafe,” she softly said.

Your confusion only grew, still not quite understanding. 

“What happened? Is he bothering you? Did…he do something to you?” you hesitantly asked, fearful that your former tormentor had turned his sights onto your friend.

“Not to me.”

That simple sentence started to put the pieces together, and you turned your face towards the front of the restaurant, recalling the stares and whispers and listening to the excited chatter. Your skin grew cold, goosebumps erupting all over you, and that dread was long gone. It was instead replaced by nausea.

“He sent everyone something…”

“No,” you heard yourself whisper.

“...a video.”

You turned to her with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. Glancing down, you caught sight of her phone in her hand, and before Kie could stop you, you’d snatched it out of her grip. You moved out of her reach as she extended her arm, desperately trying to protect you, but it was too late.

You felt like you were weighed down by bricks as you stared at the two familiar faces on the screen.

It had to have been taken months ago, during one of the first few times you’d slept with him. You both were in Ward’s bedroom, and you remembered the day all too well, recalling the feel of his palm striking your skin and his voice in your ear before pulling your head down to his lip. Of course, it was that one and not one of the ones where he’d held you down and forced you to take his thrusts.

Your hand was empty, not even realizing when Kie had taken it back, simply staring into space at the memory of what was on that screen.

“Y/N, when my parents find out—and they’re going to find out—they…”

Her words died in the air at the sound of footsteps behind you, and you flinched when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Mrs. Carerra didn’t sound happy, and her expression fared no better when you turned around. You couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over as she gestured for you to follow her further into the back of the restaurant. You knew what was coming, what Kie was trying to prepare you for.

It was what Rafe wanted, after all…and he’d gotten it.

It was hours later when you were sitting with your back against your door, your phone turned off, overwhelmed by the influx of missed calls and messages from your friends. You’d only gotten a glimpse at them before finding your head bent inside of your toilet. Every single one of them bar Kie were shocked, their horror and confusion clear as day through their words. Only Pope had eventually sent a text that asked if you were okay.

…and the truth was that you weren’t.

You were so far from okay.

Rafe had won, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and even though Mrs. Carerra had expressed sympathy for your plight—more angry at the situation than anything else—she’d still had no choice but to let you go. Every other business in town valued the Cameron family way too much, and the only place that had been willing to hire you had been swayed by Rafe too in the worst manner possible.

It was well after midnight when your door shook from harsh knocks. You hadn’t moved in hours, just blankly staring at the wall, and you closed your eyes at the sound, positive it was one of your friends. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to answer questions and either break down or pretend you felt far better than you actually did.

You did, however, have the strength to face Rafe, your gaze lifting when his voice met your ears, demanding that you open the door.

His fist was still in the air when you swung it open, looking at him like he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoes. He looked as put together as ever, completely unfazed by what he’d done. And why wouldn’t he be? This wouldn’t hurt his reputation and success in this town a bit. If nothing else, the video would have even more girls falling at his feet, but for some reason he didn’t seem to want that.

He preferred to force your hand instead.

“What is wrong with you?” you tearfully asked him, throat tight.

He didn’t respond right away, touching his tongue to his lip as his gaze roamed behind you.

“You gonna let me in?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your sockets, and he gave a haughty laugh.

“It’s not like I’ve left you with much of a choice, now, have I?”

He sounded so…proud of himself, and all you could do was cry as he brushed past you. He closed the door for you, noticing that you were struggling to move, and he kept his hand on the wood, his chest grazing your back as he pressed his face into your hair. You heard him deeply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I told you how this would end,” he whispered. “I gave you a chance to be smart about this.”

You went to move away from him, but his other hand shot out to grip your arm.

“You’re the one who made things way more difficult than they needed to be.” he continued. “We had a good thing going…and then you had to go and get sensitive and sentimental.”

When he forced you to face him, you kept your eyes on the collar of his shirt. The silence stretched as you refused to look at him, and you eventually heard Rafe heave a sigh. He let your arm go, and you watched him reach into his pocket, disappointed but not surprised by the roll of one hundred dollar bills he pulled out. When he straightened, he took your hand and placed the money in your palm, clasping your hands together.

A few more tears escaped when his fingers threaded through yours.

“Do you still feel like fighting this?” he quietly asked. “Let me know, right now, because I have all the time—and money—in the world.”

He slowly pulled you closer.

“You don’t.”

You shakily exhaled, reluctantly lifting your gaze to meet his own. You stared at one another for what felt like too long, and when he leaned in, taking your silence as defeat, you let him kiss you. It was a salty kiss, your own tears mixing in, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind, moving his lips against yours with a growing smile. His arm snaked its way around your waist, and the animalistic noise he let out told you just how excited he was to have you back under his thumb.

The couch seemed sufficient enough for him, bringing you both to it as he peeled your clothes off. You shuddered as the air hit your naked skin, thoughtlessly moving closer to his own body heat, and Rafe pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he laid you down. It felt like ages since you’d last slept with him, but you knew that wasn’t why you were trembling.

You were trembling because you finally realized you were sleeping with a monster. Before, Rafe had just been an opportunistic asshole to you. Rich, spoiled, selfish, the list went on, but now he was so much more than that. He was now someone who’d raped you on more than one occasion, and who had proved that he’d do anything to make you completely reliant on no one but him.

How else could he ensure that you’d never leave him? Never have any other choices but him? You’d eventually have to leave Outer Banks one day, you knew that to be true if you ever wanted a life independent of him, but that video could follow you around for the rest of your life, and very probably would.

When Rafe sheathed himself inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was regularly familiar to you, you gasped. The blond wasted no time in adopting a steady pace, fucking you hard against your couch, his fingers pressing into the arm of it. His grunts were soft in your ears, and despite your combined hatred and fear of him, you weren’t able to swallow down the whimpers that escaped your lips too.

You didn’t know what kind of hard on Rafe had for fucking someone he deemed so far beneath him, even more so to go through so much trouble of forcing you right back into his bed. You didn’t understand it one bit, and part of you never wanted to. You didn’t want to understand a thing that went on inside of his head, didn’t want to understand the thought process behind doing what he’d done to you.

His fingers scraped down your thigh before yanking you forward as he sat up some, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you. He was focused on the sight, lips parting as he panted from above you. He didn’t lean back down until your leg was over his shoulder, preventing you from moving much as he used you to chase his high, hips repeatedly curving against yours and forcing you to grip the couch.

“I missed this pussy so much,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth as he spoke. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You hadn’t before, but you did, now.

When his hand landed on your throat, it didn’t hurt, but his thumb applied just enough pressure to keep you alert.

“I’ll stop calling your friends dirty Pogues if that makes you feel better,” he whispered, a gentle kiss from his lips to yours. “...but you still belong to me.”

[formulawolff]

iii. golden girl - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 3.3k

warnings: age gap, cursing, yearning, pining, some sexual content, power imbalances, toto wanting to absolutely rail you, some slight mentions of a size kink, yadayadayada, mature content!

prev. | next.

“holy fuck! holy fuck! holy fucking shit!”

“come here!” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

james squeezes you tightly, nearly sweeping you off your feet as the team swarms your car, fireworks bursting in the night. it thunders through the stands, yet you can barely hear a thing as the team surrounds the two of you, jeering. tears sting your eyes, blurring your vision through the visor. 

yet, this was no time for tears. 

raising your arms, you clamber on to your car, standing on top of it. you pump your fists in the air. 

“we did it! we fucking did it!”

your voice is muffled slightly by the helmet, but your team understands your words, cheering in response. hopping off the car, you throw off your helmet, hairs plastered to your forehead, cheeks burning from the heat. 

“how did we manage that?” james is as astonished as you are, nearly trembling with excitement. although it was substantially late in the evening, he was bright eyed-and bushy tailed. 

the team principal was probably running on fumes by now, but you knew the adrenaline coursing through veins would keep him wide awake in the hours to come. 

“i don’t know,” you shake your head, “but we did it.”

“max has some competition, eh?” he teases, a hand tousling your hair. 

“i would not go that far,” your cheeks burned once again, but this time, it was not from the heat. 

you couldn’t stop grinning. no matter how hard you tried, the smile would just come back. 

it was more than likely from the fact that you just made history. 

for the first time in seventy-four years of formula one, you were the first american woman in history to win a grand prix. 

you made history today. and you would probably continue to make a name for yourself, break records, and obliterate barriers. 

fuck, this was an amazing day. 

probably one of the best days of your life. 

“good fucking job!”

“amazing race out there!”

“we love you!”

praise floods your ears as you make your way to the podium, guided by james. the stands are still somewhat packed, and you blow a few kisses and wave to fans as you stroll along. 

your heart was still thumping, blood roaring in your ears. euphoria courses through your veins, the feeling completely unmatched to anything you had ever felt before. it buzzes from your fingertips to your toes, your steps feeling light compared to the rush of the race. 

you were on cloud nine. 

making your way onto the podium, you step into the first place spot, beaming as max and checo follow suit, stepping on their designated places. your respective home flags roll down, the star spangled banner filling your ears. 

tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t help but shed a few, wiping them away with your hand as the anthem rolls on, your team waiting patiently below. 

is this how max felt every time he won? 

was this the high he was always chasing after? 

because now you understood. now you understood exactly why drivers were so determined to win. when you started your formula one career, you were more determined than ever to just place in a race. to prove the ones who had doubted you wrong. to rub it in their faces that you were a worthy competitor. most of all, to show the world what you were made of as a female driver. 

now, here you were. 

proving to the world that you were not only determined, but you were an exceptional driver. 

you were capable of winning races. 

and in your heart, you knew you were so capable of winning so many more. 

as the trophy is placed in your hands, you pump it in the air, the williams racing crew applauding. there are some shouts, some cries of joys, and suddenly, you feel a shower of champagne cascading down your suit.

glancing up, you notice that both max and sergio are holding champagne bottles in their hands, spraying not only you, but each other. giggling, you reach down, picking up your own bottle. the three of you erupt with laughter, as you douse one another. at one point, you chase max with it, tugging on the collar of his fire suit and pouring it down his back. 

the rest of the evening is a blur. everyone morphed together: reporters, crew members, even james. everything that was said to you went in one ear, and straight out the other. 

winning a grand prix was exhilarating, but god did you hate the press that followed after. 

what seemed like hours later, you were finally back at your motorhome, kicking open the door. you were sticky from the champagne, your hair caked to the nape of your neck and cap. your muscles ached, desperate for some sort of relief. 

racing an 1,800 pound car was no easy feat. 

and you were beyond exhausted. 

physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

of course, the first thing you did after the podium celebration consisted of facetiming your parents. even with the time difference, they stayed up and watched, nearly blowing out the speaker of your phone when you called. 

after a quick shower, you were perched on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. part of you wanted to fill the empty space with a pet, but you knew that all of the travel would be hard on any animal. perhaps during the offseason you would consider a cat. a big fluffy maine coon or a sleek russian blue would be perfect. 

all over social media, american fans flooded the feed with memes, edits, and comments. all of them were in support of you. and for the first time in a long time, you felt the urge to sit and read everything that was said. 

not only were your parents, james, and team proud, but your country was as well. 

as an edit plays on tik tok, you can’t help but laugh as you hear the sound, “what the fuck is a kilometer?” paired with photos and snippets of you from the grand prix. god, were these people so fast  when it came to posting the edits. where the hell did they find these clips so quickly anyway? 

a knock at your door startles you, head snapping up.

although the crew wanted to party, you had to inform them that it would have to be postponed. even though you were still running on all of the adrenaline, it was slowly trickling away, leaving your eyelids heavy and body sore. 

carefully, you trudge to the door, wincing as a twinge of pain sears through your neck. opening the door, your eyes widen. 

once again, it was toto wolff. 

this time, he had a small package in his hand. it was a crisp white paper, wrapped neatly with a royal blue bow. 

“i figured i would swing by and congratulate you on your accomplishment.”

“thank you,” apprehensively, you accept the gift in his hand, “it’s a bit late, you know.”

“i know, i know,” he exhales, “i figured i would do this privately instead of in front of the whole world.”

“the whole world as in my team?” you arch a brow. 

“yes,” he answers, swaying slightly, “can i come in?”

peering past his broad shoulders, you survey the surroundings. since it was so late, most of the crew had retired to their respective hotel rooms or motorhomes. now, it was most of the cleanup and mechanical crew, tearing down signs and cleaning up litter. 

biting your lip, you nod, inviting the austrian in, “come in.”

this time, you could sense that he was nervous. you usher him to the couch, urging him to sit. you find a spot on the opposite end, maintaining your distance. there’s a moment of silence between the two of you, toto eyeing your current attire.

of course he had to come by while you were in your pajamas. 

well, pajamas that consisted of a black skims tee and grey sweatshorts. shorts that were a little revealing, at that. 

breaking the silence, you cough, “why did you really come by?”

“you know why.” 

“i’m not joining your team,” you roll your eyes, “you can’t buy my decision with gifts, either.”

“oh?” his brows raise, “can i buy it with something else, then?”

“no,” you shake your head, “you can’t.”

“well, i tried,” he puts his hand up in defeat, “it seems you have made your decision.”

the austrian begins to stand up, smoothing out a wrinkle in his pants. yet, your spring forward, your hand delicately grasping his wrist as he turns, “wait.”

“hmm?” he hums, “what is it? reconsidering?”

“can you–” warmth fills your cheeks as he peers down at you, prompting you to speak, “i can’t stop thinking about the last time you were here. and the time we were in monaco.”

“monaco?” he echoes, “i don’t recall monaco.”

“you were probably too drunk to remember.”

your heart swells as his fingertips reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ears. it’s a gentle act, his hand massaging your scalp for a moment, “no, i remember. when i called you a golden girl and you acted like you’d never been complimented in your life. i offered you a drink too, and you refused. probably didn’t want to ruin your image as a golden girl, hmm?”

“you’re a little shit,” you mutter, earning a hearty laugh in return, “but anyway i–”

“i can’t stop thinking about it either,” toto settles back down on the couch. this time, he is not a couple of feet away. he plops down right next to you, only inches of space separating you two. 

“i probably think about you too much.” 

“why?” you blurt out, “why, though? i’m just another driver. i’m not anything special.”

“not anything special? little dove, you are by far one of the most beautiful women i have ever seen. ever since i saw your image circulating around social media, i could not help but stare in awe. you’re practically a model, and you drive exceptionally well? like i said, you’re an inspiration. you’re confident. you’re level-headed. that is a package deal, schatz.”

“you literally said the other night that you were trying to manipulate me into accepting your offer,” the notes in your tone are solemn. 

the team principal cocks his head, shocked at your attempt to throw him off guard. yet, your face falls as he bears a grin, his tone matter-of-fact.

“you’re not very good at this whole good cop, bad cop thing.” 

“i’d be much better at it if you weren’t so handsome,” your lips form a pout, and toto inches closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck. 

fingertips massage the area, earning a sigh of relief, “am i really that handsome?”

“do you not remember the way i scurried away after you offered me to buy me drinks in monaco? i was a mess. i’m a mess every single time i talk to you.”

“is that why you’re so against joining mercedes?” the inquiry is innocent, with no underlying reason to prod or pry. 

well, it was not necessarily the entire reason you were against accepting toto’s offer, but it definitely was one of them. you wouldn’t be able to last a second in the paddock without climbing all over him and attacking him. 

if you weren’t careful enough, you’d probably get pregnant one night in the paddock. 

“i just think about what would happen if i did,” you shrug, averting away from his gaze, “there’s no denying i am attracted to you. i can’t just sit here and lie.”

“i know you are,” his hand wanders to your shoulder blades, carefully kneading each one, “fuck, schatz. you’re so tight.” 

you’re so tight. 

the comment sends you spiraling, hands instinctively shielding your face so he wouldn’t see how flustered you were. between your thighs, your clit throbs, and you desperately wanted him to take care of it.

you prayed and hoped to whatever god that existed that he wouldn’t notice the wet spot that was pooling in your underwear. if he kept up the messaging and the comments, it was bound to be visible on your shorts. 

“hiding, are we? don’t be afraid, little dove. i’ve done my research. you’ve made comments about me on your social media.”

“i was sixteen!” you groan, burying your face even deeper, “fuck, fuck, fuck. this is so embarrassing. i should have wiped everything before i started racing.”

“some new accounts wouldn’t have hurt,” despite your embarrassment, he’s gentle, carefully tending to your sore muscles, “after that race, i’m not shocked at how tense you are.”

“are you actually proud of me or are you just saying these things so i’ll join your little team.”

“i’m actually proud,” one hand continues massaging, while the other finds your temple, attempting to separate your hands from your face, “can you look at me?”

hesitantly, you lower your hands. as you do so, toto’s lips curl into a grin, “there she is.”

his eyes search yours momentarily, and you feel the urge to cover your face once more. but you don’t, allowing him to look. you can’t quite put your finger on what he was searching for, but you catch the glint in his eyes. 

it was simply admiration. drinking in every little part of you. memorizing every little freckle, every lash, every little detail that defined your features. 

reaching out, his thumb traces along your jawline, trailing upwards to your cheek. you nearly collapse under the gentle touch, every fiber in your being screaming to maintain your composure. 

“such a beautiful girl,” toto whispers, his voice so low you could barely hear it, “why don’t you want to be with me at mercedes?”

“i made a commitment,” you affirm, your heart nearly stopping as toto leans in, “i don’t break my promises.” 

“and i am a man of my word. i’ll make you a world champion, schatz.” 

your lashes flutter as his thumb caresses your cheekbone, “aren’t you a married man, toto?”

“that’s what you’re worried about?” a light chuckle flows from his lips, “i’m trying to make you the deal of a lifetime and you’re fretting over whether or not i’m a married man?”

your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in even more, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, “this is wrong.”

“join me at mercedes,” toto murmurs, lips ghosting over yours, “please, be my world champion.”

“do you have a crush on me, mr. wolff?”

there’s a noise that rumbles in his throat. it’s guttural, almost animalistic, “crushes are for children. let’s just say i’ve had my eye on you for some time.”

“how long have you had your eye on me?”

“so many questions, schatz,” toto tuts, your heart races as his hand wanders, finding your thigh, “what is it going to take to make you mine? i am not one to beg, but i am starting to think i just may have to.”

you stutter as his thumb inches towards your inner thigh, tracing small circles, “i-i just need some time to think about it. there’s so much at stake here, and it’s just so overwhelming.”

“what can i do to help ease that stress?” toto shifts his body, making his way to the floor, “tell me what i need to do.” 

the temperature of the room skyrockets as he gets on his knees, situating himself between your legs. his hands, oh so warm, grip your thighs. 

the austrian presses soft kisses all over, earning a mewl from you. as you squirm, you can feel him grin against your heated skin as he stops momentarily, looking up at you. 

fuck, was he as gorgeous as ever, sitting between your thighs. brunette strands fell perfectly in his face, framing it just right. in the dim light, you notice the pink hue dusting his cheeks. his lips are plush, and you fight the urge to kiss him right there, but you hold back. 

licking his lower lip, his eyes are darkened, consumed by lust, “tell me baby, what do you want? how can i help put your mind at ease? you’re practically dripping right now. do you want me to take care of you?”

“oh fuck,” you’re nearly breathless, “i – yes. please.”

“i’ll pamper you baby,” toto’s breath fans against your thigh, “you just have to promise me something.”

“and that is?”

“you’ll seriously consider my offer. i’ll expect a decision by miami,” he snaps out of his lust-filled trance for just a second, “i mean that. you will need to find me in miami and tell me what you decide. in-person. nothing over text or social media. i can’t wait around for you forever, schatz. i am going to have to consider my other options if you don’t give me a clear answer.”

“that’s not enough time–” you protest, yet your swiftly interrupted by his lips colliding with yours. 

the kiss is fiery, nearly sweeping you off the couch. his lips mold with yours, one hand remaining on your thigh while the other wraps around the base of your neck, bringing you even closer to him. a soft moan rises in your throat as his tongue finds yours, fingers delving into the waistband of your shorts.

“so beautiful,” he pants against your lips, “so, so, so beautiful. so wet for me. fuck. i do this to you?”

“yes,” you nod, “i’ve been wet since you walked in the door.”

the confession sends toto reeling, the austrian nearly losing control in that moment. his grasp on your neck tightens ever so slightly, his breathing ragged. 

he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

ever since it was announced that you were joining the world of formula one as a driver for williams racing, toto was determined to have you on his team. he was not lying when he said that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. while he tried to play it off, the team principal had a significant crush on the williams driver. 

the moment he saw that photo of you shaking james hand, he knew he was a goner. 

not only were you absolutely stunning, someone with a gift like yours needed to be put on a pedestal. and fuck, was he so frustrated when he couldn’t sign you. at the time, mercedes was full. he had lewis and george, who were oh so talented. 

of course, the team principal needed to determine whether he was simply acting on his own attraction, or if this would be a good business venture. mercedes had maintained a decent reputation. there were a few fuck-ups through the years, but nothing so significant it ruined his career. 

however, the decision to sign you to mercedes may ruin his career. he knew if he signed you, he would not be able to keep things professional. he would want you every day, every hour, every minute, every second you were around him. he would crave to just fuck you every chance he got. and if a single soul got wind of that? he would be done for. he knew he would be let go immediately. 

yet, that was the least of his worries. 

now, his priority was taking you in, bringing you home to mercedes. although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, he knew you would shine if you went to mercedes. you would shine like the sun. 

you would be formula one’s golden girl. 

finally, after all of those weeks of pining after you, after his attempt to flirt with you in monaco, all of those stolen glances, after all fighting all of those urges to just corner you in your paddock one day and lose all of his inhibitions, confessing every sin that ran rampant in his mind. 

you were right here. and you were beneath him, so breathtaking and innocent. 

you were an angel. 

his angel. 

“the things i would do to you right now–”

a series of knocks rings through the space, so crisp and sharp.

“hey, it’s daniel! can we talk?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thank you so much for reading! please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future chapters! <3

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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@joonwater @Kaitieskidmore1 @hani0407 @mendxrn @tatyhend @misericordiamaria @avatar-lover @Idkjustlovingbts @Niaalove @dprmoon @Jungkooks-eyebrow-piercing @Funky-kars @a-new-superhero @fluffybuns69 @saweetspoiled @acquiescence804 @minnyurii @taebae19 @saviiinag @poetryforthesad @i-never-post-but-i-am-here @honsoolhour @s3l3n0phil3 @whoa-jo @lemme-ship-that-ship @jkslippiercing @fairy-jaykay @taekookstata @1uvjeons @hoseokieswrld @llallaaa @etaerealboyv @xenkimmie @Secretisme4 @Katie_tibo @emiliemrm @frieschan @taehyungteddy @taolucha @dprmoon @teddybeartaee @petalsofjr @petalsofink @Hani_0407 @p34rluv @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @teardoong @hellsfine @caro134340lina @pamzn @themarvelgal @Sassybutclassy96 @keroppitae @coree730 @ooooglymoooogly @delukoo @shookgameow @sweetsourhotcoco @bts-purplewaves @kimseokgen @seokteoksworld @kittenipples @xumyboo @jazzy1837 @mygdday @p34rluv @taebae19 @etaerealboyv @coletaehyung @llallaaa @btspurplesky

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Mingyu Fic Recommendations Part 3

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1 part 2

One Shots

again and again (f s) by @lovelyhan ✩♬ ₊˚. your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

penance (s) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

Let our lips lock, baby (f s) by @whipped-for-kpop-fics ✩♬ ₊˚. The intention is to sneak into Mingyu's apartment(get let in by Wonwoo) and set up banners and balloons ready for when he wakes. And then you'll cook him a meal like he's been asking for and give him his birthday gift. You don't really have a plan for what happens after that, you assume you'll just hang out, you really don't expect a confession and to wind up in his bed.

This is how we fall (a f) by @bitterie-sweetie ✩♬ ₊˚. You should know better than to make a deal with a stranger, but the need for a date to Minghao’s party has you desperate. It can’t be too bad though; all you have to do is show Mingyu what you saw in your reading, and he would be your date for one night. Simple enough, right?

Good Girl (s) by @whipped-for-kpop-fics ✩♬ ₊˚. One minute you're sitting on the couch watching a movie with your best friend and the next, you're face down with one of his hands on the back of your neck and the other routinely connecting with your ass.

hang up if u want to (a s) by @ugh-yoongi ✩♬ ₊˚. he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

Slowly; All At Once (f) by @gyuwoncheol ✩♬ ₊˚. Kim Mingyu fell in love with you slowly, but you fell in love with him all at once.

size kink go brr (s) by @okiedokrie ✩♬ ₊˚. Reader is horny, Mingyu is big, size kink go brrr

The Only Exception (f s) by @wonusite ✩♬ ₊˚. Your university’s star football player doesn’t understand why you don’t want anything to do with him. Several humiliating rejections later, Mingyu is more determined than ever to change your mind about him. Chaos and confusing feelings ensue.

celebrated (s) (ft. mingyu) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. after a long week working overseas, mingyu calls you and wonwoo to make sure you still miss him. And, because he’s the ‘breadwinner’ of the day, supposedly- he’s going to get to call more of the shots ;)

Cross My Heart (s) by @minisugakoobies ✩♬ ₊˚. Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Pup Code (s f) by @beefboyandbabygirl ✩♬ ₊˚. mingyu doesn't have crushes. he likes avril lavigne and sometimes he fucks pretty girls. but you seem to stir something in him that no one else can. without the trusty girl code, mingyu makes his own code to help you fall in love with him.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 2, Unspeakable- Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol use, minor male objectification, mind reading, no Bucky in this section; sorry!

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Sgt. Barnes got a new arm (there's a Lt. Dan joke in there, somewhere)!

A/N: Weirdly, this is one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. I loved the idea of all the women sitting around, drinking, and talking about how hot they thought Bucky was, while Dear Reader tried so hard to convince them that they're only friends; it really built the base of the story in my mind. I ended up cutting it down significantly, but the overall feel of the scene remains the same. Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21

Since there were only four women who lived full-time at the Tower (you, former KGB assassin-turned SHIELD spy-turned Avenger, Natasha Romanoff, Tony's long-time romantic partner and Stark Industries CEO Pepper Potts, and, most recently, Sokovian witch Wanda Maximoff), you all made an effort to get together once a month for a Girl's Night, to relax, catch up, and just spend time in each other's company.

"So, what is going on between you and Barnes," Natasha asked when you explained why you needed to cut out early tonight.

You looked at her, confused. "There's nothing going on between me and Barnes," you told her. "We're just friends, Natty."

"You and I are 'just friends,' Pocket, and you don't see me with my hands all over you, 24/7," Nat smirked.

"No one's stopping you, Natasha." With a wink, you grabbed her hand and put it on your boob. She gave it a quick squeeze, but then said:

"Seriously, he's all over you like government money on a bad idea."

You shrugged. "He just likes physical touch, that's all. It's, like, his love language or something."

"I'll bet it is," Pepper said coyly, taking a sip of wine from her oversize glass. Girl's Nights always came with a few bottles of Tony's finest vintage. "Can’t say I’ve seen him touching Steve like that, though. Then again, who can say what those two get up to behind closed locker room doors?"

"Pepper!" Wanda swatted at her, pretending to be scandalized. "I'm sure if Pocket says there's nothing going on between her and Bucky, there's nothing going on." She shot you a wicked look. "Of course, I could always read her mind to get the truth out of her."

Nat clapped, delighted. "Oh my God, yes! Please do it, Wanda! Get all of Pocket's dirty little secrets!" All three of the women turned to look at you with hopeful expressions.

"Go ahead," you told Wanda dismissively. "I've got nothing to hide where Bucky's concerned."

The Scarlet Witch did a little shimmy of excitement. "Oh, yay! No one ever willingly lets me look into their heads," she said. "This'll be good practice! And I promise," she added, solemnly, "I’ll only look at your memories of Bucky, nothing else." Her fingertips began to glow red as she raised her hands to your temples. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it was like a warm buzzing sensation ran through your brain. It felt really--

"Fucking cool," you muttered.

"There's another dollar in the jar," Pepper joked, causing you to stick your tongue out at her.

"Boo," said Wanda, pulling back after a moment. "She's telling the truth. Nothing's going on between them. They're just disgustingly best friend-y. They're just sleeping together."

"I knew it!" Nat shouted in triumph.

"No, I mean, they actually just sleep together. No sex. Just some light cuddling," Wanda clarified. "Not even an occasional groping."

Nat and Pepper groaned in unison.

"Well, that's disappointing," Nat said, throwing back a good sized mouthful of wine.

"She does still have that leather jacket of yours, Nat," Wanda added, giving you a wink.

Natasha feigned outrage. "You thief! You said you lost it!"

"I thought I lost it," you amended, giving Wanda a dirty look. "I just found it the other day when I was unpacking my go-bag. I'll get it back to you."

Nat gave you a skeptical glare. "I'll believe it when I see it, but back to you and Barnes," she said.

"I don't know why you all care so much," you lamented, refilling your own glass. "Pep, you and Wanda have your own relationships we could be talking about, and Nat, you never tell us what's going on between you and Bruce-- I have to hear everything second-hand from Clint, which you know is so weird-- so I'm not sure why I have to be the focus of attention."

"Okay, first of all," Wanda said, "I adore Vision with all of my heart, but Bucky Barnes? Oof. I'd let that man do unspeakable things to my body."

"Wanda!" The three of you stared at the normally reserved Sokovian with open mouths. 

"What?" She shrugged, a tinge of pink creeping up her cheeks. "He's gorgeous. It's an objective fact."

You shook your head, trying to wrap your brain around what she just said. You knew Bucky was handsome; you'd known from the first moment you saw him, but as your friendship had blossomed, you had sort of... stopped paying attention to it? Who he was as a person had become far more important to you than what he looked like. Sure, there were moments when you would be reminded of just how attractive he was, but they always hit you like a ton of bricks because you never focused on it for very long, so it seemed so easy to forget and just see him as Bucky, your best friend-- kind, funny, smart, loyal Bucky.

"And he's just gotten better looking the longer he's been here," Nat added. "I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of him, either, Pocket, if I wasn't afraid he'd rip my arms off for trying."

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but she was right-- Bucky had gotten so much better the longer he'd been at the Tower, but that was because he was taking care of himself. He was getting more sleep, so his eyes had lost their dark circles and their sunken, hollow look. He'd been eating better and had put on some weight-- all of it muscle, broadening his shoulders and thickening his thighs. He'd cut his hair short and shaved his beard, leaving just a hint of stubble.

"What are you smiling at?" Pepper teased, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh. Just thinking about how much better Bucky's been doing since he got some stability in his life and people who care about his well being. While you all sit here objectifying a senior citizen prisoner of war like he's a piece of meat," you teased. "What are you, men?"

"Wow," said Nat with a laugh, "way to make us feel like assholes." You just smiled and sipped your wine.

"If the butt plugs fit..." Natasha picked up a couch pillow and threw it at you. You were able to dodge it easily, so you knew the assassin hadn't been actually trying to hit you, though you did have to carefully balance your wineglass to prevent it from spilling all over the couch.

"Ladies," Pepper warned. It wasn't the first time your banter would have devolved into an expensive dry cleaning bill.

"Sorry, Mom," You and Nat sang in unison, wicked grins on your faces.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[lucky-lucky-duck]

Forget You, Forget-Me-Not

A continuation based on a reply to my Vaga Snapshot post that i'm writing between cram sessions. The semester ends in 2 days and I'm dying, but it's fine. c: Everything is fine. c: I'm gonna start on the matchup in a couple days when my load lightens, this is just a late night creative outlet for stress c':

Leo Kurosagi x Vagastrom Ghoul Reader (2nd person pov and gender neutral)

Leo goes too far in an argument, and I'll fill this out tomorrow. For now, it's sad. Reader nearly gives up on braking the curse causing the people around them to slowly forget they exist. Fuck I'm tired

Morning edit - I fixed a couple of spelling mistakes, but the description made me laugh so it stays. I'm still fucking tired.

"I'm passing the phone to a No-Name NPC who is so unremarkable that the faculty evaluators actually forgot they existed."

You're ignoring him. It's been four days, and you've barely said a word to anyone, but everyone knows that Leo is somehow the culprit.

It doesn't really matter, you think with dull amusement. Sho and Alan had both been out at the time; the only witnesses to your humiliation were you, Leo, and the general students. Leo's too busy trying to bait you into argument to gloat about his win to the others, and you aren't about to tell them yourself.

The general students are a non-issue, too. Most of them struggle to remember your name most days, they're not about to suddenly start remembering gossip about you.

The thing is, you've had fights with Leo before. Hell, fighting with Leo has something of a hobby to you once you started sharing a living space with him. There's just something about him that brings out the worst in you. The vicious snake-like part, that coils up with anticipation and prepares to strike when you see Leo enter the room. You used to think of it as something that you both secretly look forward to, once the vitriol died down and your metaphorical fight-to-the-death turned into elementary-school bullying.

He's never brought up your curse like that before. It's been tit-for-tat, both of you giving just as good as you get. It's supposed to be fun.

You squash the pang of longing in your chest with snarled anger, only to be drenched in an icy kind of apathy. There are lines both of you choose not to cross these days (you were under that impression at the time, at least.), and the waning acknowledgment of your existence had definitely been one of them. Christ, you didn't exactly pour salt onto Leo's obvious abandonment wounds during these fights, did you?

"What did Leo do to you?" Sho's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" Your voice scrapes lifelessly as you meet his eyes with a small, strained grin.

"Really? Then what, you've been moping around the dorms the past few days because you enjoy the smell of sweat and motor oil?"

"You know me, can't get enough of the ol' sugar and spice." The attempted banner falls flat as you make to slip around him and head for your dorm at the end of the hall, only to be held in place with a single strong hand on your wrist. "You ever tried shake weights?"

"Stop," he shuts down your distraction. "You know he's a rat bastard, right? You can't take what he says personally. We're going to find a way to break the curse."

So, Leo told Sho what happened after all, has he?

Sho's words slow to a stop when he notices the dead-eyes and scowl that have overtaken your forceful nonchalance from earlier.

"I wasn't lying, I'm not angry at Leo for what he said to me," Apart from the fact that you kind of are. "He wasn't exactly wrong."

"Shut up already!" You don't turn your head to look at Leo as he appears in the corridor. Figures he would listen in on a private conversation. It's probably him who sent Sho to find you in the first place. Bastards.

In the end, the choice is made for you, and a new set of hands grip your shoulders, yanking you face-to-face with the person you wanted to see least.

"Are you telling me I've been wasting my time on someone this fucking pathetic?" The words would hurt more if the expression on Leo's face were less desperate. If anyone looks pathetic here, it's him. "Of course. You would be willing to sit back and watch as you sink into irrelevance, wouldn't you? If that's what you want, fine." It's funny how adept you've become at interpreting Leo's mannerisms after all of the fighting.

For all of the accusations and insults, the only thing you see in front of you is a hissing kitty cat desperately trying to make amends in the only way it knows how. It's a shit apology, but... Leo isn't the type to put on this type of fit unless he feels threatened and cornered, and, as far as you are aware, the only threat being posed at the moment is you walking away from him.

Your bar sure has sunk low these days, yikes.

"That would probably hurt more if you weren't still gripping my shoulders like we're in a steamy novel. Do you have fantasies of pinning me down often?" You're promptly shoved away and insulted once more, free to turn back and walk back toward your dorm without sparing either boy behind you a glance.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you notice the ache in your chest loosening just enough to let you breath deeply. If just for tonight, you'll fall asleep free from the fear that tomorrow will be the day you finally wake up as a stranger.

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter six — everyone f**king stinks! 💋

The entire area felt foreign to you.

It was like walking into the backrooms, but if the backrooms were filled with stans and nerdy enthusiasts of the backrooms. Your stomach was rumbling with pure anxiety, and for a split second, there was mirth dancing in your eyes.

Once you stopped, you were in clear view of a big banner that had all of Inazuma's members on it. It was a promotional emblem for how long they'll be here and their times they'll be available to see people.

You shouldn't have felt jealous, but you did, and you pried your eyes away from the showcase, looking back at her three friends who accompanied you first.

"Where's Aether and Tohma anyway? Are they still at the hotel?"

"Uh, something happened I guess? They said they would catch up with us eventually." Lumine said, but before she could fully confirm, she saw the aforementioned inside and pointed.

You bated your breath for a second, twiddling with your phone in your hand like a fidget spinner. “Should I really..?”

“Go for it! What’s the worst that can happen?” Ayaka said in an encouraging whisper.

“At this point? I don’t even think I’d like to know.” The line slowly moved up, and with more of a hushed resolve, you tapped on the LIVE button on the app and held the camera up with a bright smile on your face. “HI CHAT!”

Instantly, everyone in practically a mile radius looked back at you. Either with confusion or sheer disgust and apprehension. Most of them were talking amongst themselves about you ‘actually showing up’.

But Hu Tao hopped on board as the line was moving, cheerfully waving. They were inside of the convention in no time, all four of the group with coffees in their hands, lanyards clearly showcasing that they were streamers, the whole she-bang.

You quickly ran to an empty corner of the convention, quietly whispering to your audience. “Guys, I never knew that the rumors were true, but…everyone seriously fucking stinks in here!”

“No seriously. Holy shit, people. Wear deodorant or a hazmat suit, whatever. Please.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad!”

“AYAKA. This is the in real life version of the green fumes you see in the cartoons, please be so for real right now.” Hu Tao replied.

A flood of hate was in your chat, mostly people telling you to end the stream if you were going to talk shit and to keep yourself safe. You paid no mind as you showcased everything with your friends, including the different stands. But as you went further along, and the more people who were fans of Inazuma started to notice you were here, the more hostile a lot of people seemed toward you? You weaved through crowds silently, and it still felt like people knew that it was you.

You didn’t even see a point in streaming, up until you accidentally shoved your coffee into somebody’s back. You feel with a forceful thrust to yourself, hardly doing any damage to the person in front of you other than moving them slightly and getting drips and talons of coffee all over their black clothes. You were splashed in the face with your own hot coffee as well, brown liquid all around you as it sunk into your lower back and the fabric around you.

Your phone skidded across the floor, but in view of the ceiling and still actively on live. Hu Tao’s breath was knocked out of her lungs, and it looked like her soul tap danced out of her body. “Oh…Y/N—!!”

Frustrated, you took your phone, and noticed that it now had a big crack before feeling your heart drop to your stomach. You still had a financing plan on this bad boy! You were so pissed that the scorching coffee on your skin had nothing to your blood boiling.

“You really need to watch where you’re going!” You barked. “You can’t just be in the way of the stands if you’re not looking, there’s a reason why the yellow tape is literally everywhere! Hey!”

There was a long silence, and a second of despair from Hu Tao as she quickly shook her head at you in view. She seemed to be mouthing at you something, but you didn’t seem to capture what she was talking about until the person turned around. Ayaka simply didn’t know what to do except look worried, and Lumine was entirely frozen.

“I want to know…who the fuck you’re talking to like that. Huh?” The #1 streamer himself, Scaramouche said as he approached your figure on the floor. He was hovering over you like a sleep paralysis demon. “Because it’s not me. Look up at me while I’m speaking to you. You were trying to get my attention a few seconds ago, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my god,” Lumine murmured. “Guys…we need to get them.”

“Lumine…” Hu Tao looked at her with pleading eyes. “I’m deadass about this. We are next if we go over there.”

As you realized that you did this in the exact proximity of Inazuma’s huge booth, you were hoping whatever God put you into cardiac arrest in that moment.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo @justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @melpomenelurks @keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi @kyon-cherri @1lellykins @iiinaurate @quacking-simp (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 4 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: tense situations with dangerous vampires, casual wine drinking, language probably, arguments

wc: 5.5k

“What have we here?” the low voice asks, and your adrenaline races, leagues ahead of your logical processes which take a few more seconds to register that you’re standing between the stone statue and an Infracti man, thin and willowy, unnaturally long.

You’re slammed with shame at your hubris, warring intensely with your fear. You’d thought you could just wander around the royal palace of Infracticus, that these natural predators wouldn’t find you, couldn’t sneak up on you? 

“A human?” he continues, thoughtfully. His black eyes are on you intently, his upper lip curled to reveal his inhuman incisors. He cocks his head, crowds you in a bit. “Or… something else? What brings you here, little morsel?”

Morsel. 

You try to peek around him, to see if anyone might come to your rescue. There’s no one there. You aren't supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be in your rooms, guarded, kept safe. And this is why.

He can’t just kill you right here, you think wildly. We’re in the palace, for god’s sake.

Well, something in your mind counters, he can. There just might be consequences after. 

You didn’t even make it twenty-four hours without blowing your cover. Not even twenty-four hours before fucking up the assignment, putting yourself in danger. 

This is why you shouldn’t be in charge of the cases.

“I was invited,” you say, and your voice shakes. 

He smiles, or something like it, sliding somehow closer. You press harder against the statue, your body trying to create space that isn’t there. Your legs tremble, and you clutch your hands into fists to hide how they shake.

“Oh,” he says, tilting his head even further, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Don’t be frightened. I wouldn’t kill you. Only -”

“Only what?” a cold voice interjects.

The Infracti man has backed away from you and bowed deeply at the waist before you can even process his movement. Infracti move unnaturally fast when they choose to, and you feel like your mind is working through molasses in the wake of your adrenaline rush. 

Relief makes your shaking knees almost give way. The prince stands before you, a sandy-haired Infracti man behind him, both of them frowning deeply. 

You push yourself off the statue, fear sharpening, shifting into a stance that might allow you to run, if you need to.

“Your highness,” the Infracti, still bowing, says. “I -”

Prince Taehyung turns to the man behind him. “Take her to my rooms,” he murmurs, just quietly enough that you struggle to hear him. “I need to handle this, here.”

You freeze, trying to decide if you should bolt (as if you could outrun any of them), or if you should go where you’re told. The word morsel swims through your mind again.

Prince Taehyung must see it on your face - fear, wild and roiling - because he pauses. Then he speaks again, even more quietly, just to you.

“I trust Jimin with my own life,” he tells you. “You can trust him with yours. Go to my rooms. I’ll come right after you.”

The sandy-haired Infracti - Jimin, apparently - holds out his arm to you, as if he’s your date, ready to escort you through the court gathering below. You step forward on shaky legs and are surprised when he supports you easily. 

You shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve got to stop underestimating the monsters you’re surrounded with. 

He leads you away silently, but once you’re around a few corners he slows his gait considerably and releases your arm so you can walk on your own. You’re grateful; he wasn’t the one who scared you, but you want as much personal space as you can get, right now. 

“Almost there,” he promises you. “The prince’s wing is just up those stairs ahead.”

You count your breaths as you follow him, trying - and failing - to still the tremors that still rock your limbs. You reach the stairs quickly and follow Jimin up. At the top, you’re greeted with a gorgeously decorated corridor with thick carpeting and glittering chandeliers replacing wall sconces. Guards stand at attention on both sides of the corridor, backs straight and black eyes forward. 

The closest one turns when you approach, but her shoulders relax when she spots Jimin. Her eyes catch on you, and she frowns quizzically.

“The Prince asked me to bring her here,” Jimin explains. 

“For what purpose?”

“I didn’t ask,” Jimin says coolly. “You can ask him, he should be right behind me.”

The guard’s expression tells you that she does not want to do that, and she slides back into place, inclining her head towards the guards that flank his tall, golden doors, indicating that you should be allowed through.

Inside, Jimin gestures for you to sit on one of the plush couches in the first room. You sit on the edge, terrified. You’re pretty sure no one is going to actually kill you at this point, but the fear from earlier clings to you, reluctant to leave. Not to mention, you’re sure you’re in trouble for getting yourself in that situation in the first place, for going against your directions. 

The only thing the royal family had asked of you was secrecy. 

Jimin keeps his distance, turning and watching the fire dance in the fireplace, leaving you to panic in silence. As promised, it is only minutes before the doors open again, and Prince Taehyung pushes his way through, jaw set and brows furrowed. Jimin turns to face him, and you rise. 

He stalks towards you, stopping a few feet in front of you. His eyes, made to look human, find yours.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, a bit breathlessly. 

“No,” you tell him, but he seems to look you up and down anyway. His gaze catches on your shaking hands. His face softens, some of the anger ebbing away.

“Don’t be scared,” he says, a touch more gently. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, feeling no better for his reassurances. Are you safe? 

He backs off a step, shares a look with Jimin, then laughs darkly, shaking his head. He walks away from you, rubbing his forehead.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius,” he shoots over his shoulder at you. You flinch. “What kind of idiot human walks around Infracticus alone?”

Jimin speaks up, saving you from having to respond. “Did you deal with -?”

Prince Taehyung nods, expression grim. “It’s under control.”

“In that case, we should rejoin dinner,” Jimin ventures. “I’m sure our absence has been noted.”

Prince Taehyung brushes past him and reaches for a crystal decanter, pouring a dark liquid into a glass. He lifts the decanter towards Jimin, who shakes his head, then at you.

You eye the deep red liquid, stomach jolting.

“It’s wine,” he says flatly, correctly reading your reaction. “Ordinary wine. A pinot noir, I believe.”

“No thank you,” you whisper.

Taehyung makes a face like suit yourself and drains his glass. Then, to Jimin, he says, “Will you go back? If anyone inquires… something came up.”

Jimin nods mutely, giving him a quick bow and heading for the door. He pauses as he passes the prince, muttering something quietly to him that you can’t catch. But, as he does, his eyes are on you, and the prince turns minutely to look at you as well. 

You feel a shudder travel down your spine. 

Jimin shoots one last glance at you and slips out the door. Prince Taehyung heaves a sigh and moves to refill his goblet.

“What did he say?” you demand. You’re so frightened that it makes you aggressive; you’re a cornered animal, no control over lashing out. And it’s clear to you that whatever was said, it was about you. 

Prince Taehyung gives you a wry kind of smile, one that you don’t understand. 

“He told me to remember that I’m scary, too,” he says dryly. “As if I could ever forget. Especially these days.”

When you don’t answer, he turns, fiddling with the crystal decanter again.

“Are you sure you don’t want wine?” he offers again, not turning to look at you. “It would calm your nerves.”

“I’d rather keep a clear head,” you say, your voice starting to sound firmer, more solid now that your heart isn’t galloping anymore. In your head, you see the swirl of black eyes, and you push the image away. 

“Smart,” he says, and comes to sit on the couch opposite you. He opens a hand, indicating that you should sit as well. You do, stiffly. You’re pretty sure you’re about to be fired. 

You guess that’s better than being slaughtered.

Still sucks, though.

“That was Jimin,” he says suddenly, like his manners have just occurred to him. “He’s my best friend, for some reason. Has been for… centuries. I should have properly introduced you.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sheepish. “You were focusing on… other things.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to tell my parents what happened tonight,” he says, removing his hand and looking up at you. His wavy hair swings a little, and a detached part of your brain gets the errant urge to brush it back into place.

“You’re not?” you echo hollowly. 

He shakes his head. “They’d send your team back immediately.”

You swallow thickly, feeling like you’re being handed a gift you absolutely don’t deserve. “They’d be right to,” you whisper, shame crawling up your arms.

He makes a face like he agrees, a little bit. “I have faith in your curse-breaking abilities,” he tells you. “If not your ability to follow directions.”

Your face heats up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “And not just because someone found me - I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“So why did you?” he asks, brow furrowing. “I can’t understand. Were we somehow unclear? The other families can’t know we hired a curse-breaker. Humans don’t come here - questions will be asked. And even if you chose not to care about my secret… you put yourself in great danger.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wasn’t… I didn’t not care about keeping your secret. I just… didn’t think anyone would notice me.”

You’re sure the prince rolls his eyes at this, lightning quick. “My people may be civilized,” he says slowly, nearly in a drawl, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a walking buffet table with flashing neon signs. They can smell you before they can see you. They can hear your heartbeat from rooms away. They are inherently built to find you even when you don’t want to be found.”

He stares at you a bit incredulously, as if he can’t believe he needs to explain this to you at all. “I thought you were a scholar on my people,” he adds finally, putting voice to what you’d seen on his face. 

“I was,” you croak. “I am. I just… underestimated the situation. I thought I could stay undetected. I just wanted to… look around. I spent so many years studying your people and your culture, it’s torture to sit in one room, so close, but unable to experience any of it.”

The prince sits back at this, looking at you suddenly with an expression that you can’t decipher at all.

“What?” you ask, nervous. Has your explanation offended him? 

You start trying to think of how to explain further, when he gives a tiny half-smile and says, “I didn’t expect you to be… curious. About us. About my home.”

You sit back, too. This conversation is not going where you expected it to, and you feel a bit thrown. 

“Curious is an understatement,” you admit tentatively. “I want to see everything. I read so much… I never dreamed of seeing any of it in person. It was never a possibility, not even as a wild fantasy. And now I’m here.”

The prince’s tiny smile grows sideways, just a little. “Very well,” he says, putting his hands on his knees, businesslike. “I’ll make time to let you experience Infracticus - safely. With me.” 

You look at him, wide-eyed. You’d entered this room thinking you were going to be sent home, and instead it seems like the crown prince is offering to take you sight-seeing. 

“Really?” you ask. “You’ll do that?” You try not to ask why, but it’s clear in your voice anyway.

He nods once, still quite serious. “You’re not here as a prisoner,” he says, suddenly not looking at you. “I don’t want you to feel like one. You’ve given up quite a lot and put yourself in a dangerous situation to help me with my problem. It seems fair that you should get some enjoyment out of being here.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m here to do a job for you,” you say seriously. “I don’t want you to think that I’m just… vacationing.”

He nods, his expression clearing, like you’ve said something that alleviates a worry. “Perhaps,” he suggests, “I could escort you safely around the palace grounds so you don’t feel so cooped up, and we could discuss the curse as we walk. That way we can consider our time spent productively.”

You nod. “That sounds reasonable.”

He gives a tight, agreeable smile. “Well then,” he says, “anything you’d particularly like to see?”

Tentatively, you venture, “Well… I’d like… could we… could I see the amarisca up close?”

A smile does cross his face, now, full and genuine, the first one you’ve seen on him. It changes him entirely, takes him from something cold and frightening to boyish and sweet. “That’s an excellent choice,” he says, still smiling. “We can go to my private stable. I’m afraid that tonight I’ve got to show my face back with the court families… but, tomorrow?”

You nod, hardly believing this turn of events. He rises, setting his goblet back where it came from, and you follow him to his doors.

With four of his guards flanking you, he walks you back to your rooms. As you try to keep pace with him up one of the long, stone corridors, he asks you, “From our conversation this morning… do you have any thoughts about…?”

He trails off, clearly not wanting to say the curse out loud now that you’re back inside and surrounded by other Infracti, even if they are his own staff. 

“Nothing very substantial,” you answer automatically, sliding easily into professional mode. “The first step is to identify all the threads - then, we can begin to work out the most effective way to unravel them.”

He goes quiet for the length of time it takes you to climb two staircases. Then, at the top, he says quietly, “That sounds impossible. How can you identify things you can’t even see?”

“There are ways,” you say, trying to sound confident - competent. “Magic always talks - you just have to know what to listen for.”

He doesn’t respond to this, but you watch his jaw tighten. Nervously, you follow him in silence. 

He stops you around the corner from your quarters. “How did you get past Dansoo and Satuel in the first place?” he asks curiously. “It’s not like either of them to get distracted.”

You avoid his gaze, suddenly fascinated with a decorative vase to your right. He says your name again, and you cringe, wishing you could disappear on the spot.

“I… sort of used magic to distract them,” you admit, unable to make yourself look up at him.

The prince doesn’t respond to this, just watches you out of the corner of his eyes, expression flat. 

You wonder if it was a mistake to admit that, a mistake to show your hand - that you had a decent grasp of magic, that you could use it against them if you needed to.

You should have used magic with the Infracti earlier, you think belatedly. You’d been too panicked to think clearly. It wasn’t instinct to you - your fight or flight hadn’t considered it an option. But it may have worked.

“I have to ask you to please not let this happen again,” he says quietly. “I understand what lured you out - but it’s too unsafe. For both of us. If you want to go somewhere, or you need a change of scenery… have Satuel get me. I’ll do my best to accommodate.”

You look at your feet. “I’m sorry I risked your secret,” you say to your shoes. “I really wasn’t trying to. I really thought no one would notice me.”

“Now you know differently,” he says, and you shiver at the cold edge that’s returned to his voice. “Promise me it won’t happen again.”

You can’t look up from your feet. “Yes, Maiesti,” you promise. 

He sighs. “Come on,” he says, and leads you around the final corner.

The looks on Dansoo and Satuel’s faces when they recognize you would be funny if you didn’t feel so bad about it. You hope they aren’t in trouble.

“A little tip,” the prince says to them, and you swear there’s humor in his tone. “This one uses magic quite well.”

He wishes you goodbye and you slip inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

Inside, Namjoon looks up from the couch, where he’s lounging sideways, scribbling in a tiny notebook. Upon seeing you, he frowns, closing the book and sitting up.

“Where did you go?” he asks, and there’s definitely an edge of annoyance in his tone. “I woke up and you were gone - I didn’t know if we’d been summoned and I’d slept through it, or if something bad happened…”

You feel yourself go cold with shame for the second time that evening. “I thought I’d be back before you were up,” you say quietly. “I wanted to walk a little. I wanted to explore the palace.”

His eyes flash. “Do you have any idea the danger -?”

“Of course I do,” you shoot back hotly. “I was only going for a minute.” And I got found in that minute, you think, but you’re not sure if he knows this and you don’t want to rat on yourself.

“Let me ask you this,” Namjoon says, tone stony. “When you were in the rainforest with my grandfather, did you go exploring there? Alone?”

Of course you hadn’t. He knows the answer already.

“So how is this different?” he challenges. “What’s the difference?”

I hadn’t spent ten years studying the rainforest. I wasn’t half in love with the trees before I got there. 

Again, you fail to put words to what’s in your heart: your life has revolved around studying this place of fantasy, never dreaming you could put your hand on it someday. Now that you’re here, you want to experience it, every bit of it. You want to be part of it so badly it aches.

“Fewer poison frogs here,” you mumble. 

Namjoon softens. “Fewer blood-sucking monsters there,” he points out. 

You press your lips together. You have no good retort for that. After a minute, you release a quick breath. “Let’s order our dinner,” you say. “Then I’d like to work on our list of threads for a little longer.”

He nods silently, but you can tell by his face that he has plenty more he thinks he could say and is choosing not to.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s get dinner.”

Later, when your meal winds down and you start stacking dishes, you nudge him with your elbow, lightly.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “It was a mistake to go.”

He nudges you back with a little smile, then rises and gathers some plates. It seems, for now, that you’re forgiven. 

-

Taehyung misses the meal, but it’s no matter - he can order bloodfood to his own chambers. He’d prefer that, anyway. 

In his own chambers, he doesn’t have to force himself awake and attentive. Truthfully, he’s been so tired he can hardly stand it, using salves to hide the bags under his eyes. 

Under the curse, he doesn’t sleep from midnight to dawn, his body instead spending those hours launching into overdrive, trying fruitlessly to escape his confines, to get out, to hunt. He wakes sore and spent each sunrise, his limbs begging for reprieve, and tries to rest for a few hours before his day begins. 

Sleep never comes, no matter how exhausted he is. Or, if it comes, it doesn’t last, not long enough to matter.

As the nights continue in this way, he feels like he has less and less strength to fake it during the day. He feels like he’s existing on spite and bitterness alone, brittle and seconds from crumbling into jagged, splintery pieces. 

By the time he reaches the hall where the court families take dinner, most of the crowd has dispersed. It seems his mother has led most of the women outside, where they gather near the edge of the wide balcony and look together at the skies. There must be celestial movement, he figures, something happening with the planets that’s warranted their attention. 

He makes his way towards his father, knowing he needs to be seen here. His father quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask the question Taehyung knows he wants to ask.

“Had to handle something,” Taehyung murmurs quietly. “My apologies.”

His father looks at him steadily for a minute, the conversation flowing around them. There’s been a lot between the two of them lately, and most of it ugly. But, for just a minute, Taehyung feels small again, like his father could - and might want to - solve his problems, offer him comfort. 

And the King surprises him. 

“You should go rest,” he says firmly, and Taehyung looks up at him, shocked. “There’s nothing pressing happening tonight. Rest while you can. You missed the meal, anyway - you ought to eat. You need your strength.”

Taehyung inclines his head, so grateful that he’s almost choked up about it. On his way from the room, he catches Jimin’s eye, and his best friend hurries to come keep stride with him.

“Ooh, am I excused, too?” Jimin asks, mock excitedly. 

“I say you are,” Taehyung smiles sideways. “So you are. Make sure I don’t faint on my way to my rooms. At least where there are witnesses.”

After ordering what food he wants brought to him, Taehyung flops on the couch and groans loud and long. 

Jimin flops into a chair near Taehyung’s feet. “Has your father started in about her yet?”

Taehyung is so puzzled that he lifts his head to peer curiously at the other man. “What?”

“The curse-breaker,” Jimin clarifies. “I saw how you were with her.”

Taehyung scowls. “I wasn’t like anything with her. I can have you removed, you know.”

“You can, but you won’t,” Jimin grins like the cheshire cat. “So? He hasn’t?”

“What makes you think he’d care about her?” Taehyung grouses.

Jimin shrugs. “Your father’s been throwing suitors at you for at least a month,” he observes. “Now you got this skilled curse-breaker right under your nose. She’s pretty. Seems to like you alright. I just figured it was only a matter of time before he started scheming.”

Taehyung groans again, dropping his head back to the couch. “He hasn’t started yet. Maybe I’m safe.”

Jimin makes a hum like he very much doubts it. “Consider my surprise when you were kind to her.”

“Consider,” Taehyung shoots back, eyes narrowed, “what a pain in my ass you are. I was never unkind to father’s… the suitors he picked.”

“Perhaps not,” Jimin muses. “But you weren’t warm, either. You seemed quite worried about her after her little incident.”

“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles. “If you’re just here to push my buttons, you can leave. I’d rather get some sleep than listen to your nonsense.”

Jimin glances at the marble and gold clock on the mantle. “You could get in a few hours,” he points out. “Do you want to sleep? I’ll wake you before midnight.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Thank you, but no,” he says. “I’m too… I’ve got too much energy right now.”

It’s true; he feels keyed up, has since he accidentally stumbled upon you pressed against that statue, eyes wide and heart hammering. He’d heard it from around the corner, knew something was wrong, had willed himself to stay calm and steady. 

He’d almost gained his salvation and lost it, all in the same day. 

—

The prince shows up the next night after you’ve finished dinner, having sent word to your guards that you should be ready. When Satuel opens the door and announces him, you’re expecting him. You’re not expecting to find him draped in a hooded black cloak, exactly like the ones you and Namjoon had been asked to wear the night you’d arrived. Prince Taehyung holds one out to you, and you don’t argue.

You’d explained to Namjoon what the prince had offered you, and extended an invitation, but he’d declined. As you leave, he watches you carefully, sharp eyes watching the door close behind you.

Prince Taehyung leads you silently down corridors and staircases; you can’t really tell where in the palace you are, but you are definitely going down. As you travel, you notice fewer furnishings - paintings on the walls become fewer and farther between, the lighting on the walls become more plain, you stop passing little console tables decked with flowers and vases. 

A lone guard stands at the beginning of the final corridor - you can see closed doors at the end of the hall that must lead outside - and he bows deeply upon seeing Prince Taehyung. 

“We should be returning within the hour,” the prince tells him, and the guard nods in understanding. The prince leads you to the doors, pushing through them and holding one open as you follow him out into the night air. 

You know in theory that although the human world is considered above and Infracticus is considered below they are not physically so. A more accurate picture, if it was possible to make one, would have the worlds hovering side by side. They link pinkies, never drifting too far from each other. 

Right now, that sky is dark and littered with flickering stars - more than you ever saw in the human world, more than you thought could be possible in a finite amount of space.

Prince Taehyung pushes off his hood as soon as the night air envelopes you. You can see lights from a small building down below, and he points to them.

“We’re heading there,” he says. “There are stairs - I’ll help you. I know you can’t see that well in the dark.”

Unlike him. 

“I get the cloak for me,” you say, as he leads you to the edge of the stone walkway where the stairs must begin. “But why for you?”

He shrugs. “Just in case. The guards need to know where I am, of course, but no one else needs to. The court families tend to be quite… nosy. Gossip tends to spread.”

This makes you smile. Then, the smell hits you - salt. Specifically, sea spray. 

“Are we near the ocean?” you ask, delighted. You wish it wasn’t dark out so you could see. You wonder if you could ask him to bring you during the day.

He makes an affirmative noise low in his throat. “The stables all back up to the sea,” he tells you. “So the amarisca can have access to the water.”

“Smart,” you observe. 

Prince Taehyung pauses on the first step, then turns and holds out a hand to you.

You hesitate. It seems wrong, somehow - like it shouldn’t be allowed. 

“They’re slippery,” he tells you. “Let me help you so you don’t get hurt.”

You nod, swallowing, and hesitantly place your hand in his. It’s ridiculous the way it makes your heart race to touch his hand. You hope, swallowing back embarrassment, that he can’t hear it. You’re sure he can. Still, he holds your hand firmly and guides you carefully down one step at a time, glancing up at you frequently to gauge how you're faring. 

He waits at the bottom as you take the final step; your feet sink into loose, dry sand. The rhythmic crash of breaking waves greets you, closer than you expect, and you breathe in the sea air happily.

“I wish my rooms were here,” you say without thinking, and the prince looks at you thoughtfully. 

“If you are here for longer than - rather, if the curse takes very long to break,” he says seriously, “then perhaps we’ll arrange that.”

You go quiet as he leads you up the beach, the lights from the stable growing brighter as they get closer. 

“I feel like you’re being nicer to me than I deserve,” you admit, the darkness making you bolder. “I know that I really messed up yesterday.”

He shakes his head, halting and turning to look at you through the dark. You can barely make out his features, here away from the glow of the palace’s many lights, surrounded by the crash of ocean waves and the calls of gulls. “You’re a guest here. And we’re asking a lot of you. I should have offered you the chance to look around in the first place.”

You go quiet, focusing on the sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt air. “I’m still sorry,” you murmur.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he tells you seriously. “I need you. My life has been… absolutely destroyed by this curse. I’ll do whatever I can to make your time here better. Your well-being is the most worthwhile investment I’ve had in six hundred years.”

There are two Infracti at the stable, and they leap to attention when they see the prince. 

“Do you want her saddled?” one of them asks.

“No,” Prince Taehyung says, holding out a staying hand. “I’m not taking her out to ride tonight.”

He asks them to be at ease and leads you inside. The smell of hay and feed mixes with the smells of the ocean, and it takes you a moment to adjust. 

“There’s a larger stable on the other side of this hill,” Prince Taehyung tells you, stepping up to the single stall door. “That’s where the rest of the amarisca are kept, and the court families can use those stalls when they come and go. But this stable is just for me.”

The amarisca in the stall greets him by pressing her dark teal snout affectionately into his open palm. 

He smiles unfettered, cheeks rising, and something in your chest moves as you watch them. 

“This is Potato,” he tells you, and you laugh out loud, surprised. 

“You named your amarisca Potato?” you ask, still laughing.

He grins. “Her official name is Regency’s Sweet Potato, but she won’t answer to that.”

“She’s so beautiful,” you breathe, inching closer. “I never dreamed I’d see one up close. I never dreamed I’d see one in person at all.” 

Again, Prince Taehyung looks at you sideways, but doesn’t interrupt. He shifts sideways so you can draw a little closer. 

“Do you want to pet her?” he asks.

You think about it, then shake your head. “Not yet.”

He looks at you quizzically.

How to explain - that you don’t feel like you deserve this dream coming true, after what a fool you were yesterday? That something deep within you feels the need to keep the dream just a dream, that if you touch her it’ll be real and it’ll be over and you can’t dream about it anymore? 

“You read about all these things,” you try to explain, eyes on the animal’s beautiful coat, “but never see them - it starts to feel like they’re mythical, make-believe. Seeing them in person… my brain still wants to believe they aren’t real. Like this must be some trick.”

It’s not a full explanation, it doesn’t really answer the question he didn’t ask, but you do feel like you’re telling him something.

“Us, too?” he asks curiously. “Do Infracti seem made-up, too, until you’re standing with them?”

You consider this. “Standing with them,” you finally answer quietly, very aware that you are standing with him, alone, “doesn’t make me feel like I’m seeing something my mind didn’t believe in. My mind just…accepts you as human. Usually.”

“That’s been your biggest mistake since you got here,” he says, and his voice is suddenly much darker. “And it’s the mistake that will get you killed, if you don’t stop making it. Infracti are not human. And they are not all as scared of the protection laws as you might want them to be.”

Goosebumps fly up your arms as the image of the Infracti who’d cornered you in the palace rises in your mind.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m starting to get that.”

A bit later, he says, “Let’s go back. I have some business to attend to tonight before I… before midnight.”

You step back reluctantly from Potato’s stall, and he seems to clock this.

“Next time I’ll bring something for you to feed her,” he suggests, and you can’t help but give him a small smile.

Next time? Is he planning on walking alone with you around the palace grounds on a regular basis? 

You’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid he’ll say yes, make you feel even guiltier for all the kindness he’s affording you. 

<;- Prev | Next ->

thank you so much for reading!! lots more to come!

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

welcome to the 'art that fucks you up' tournament!

have you ever seen a painting and though to yourself, "wow this makes me want to viscerally tear into a family of four"? or maybe gazing upon the stained glass of a church building and thinking, "god is not real but i am if only for this single moment"?

then this bracket is for you!

we're accepting nearly any form of visual art, but primarily sticking to stuff like paintings and the like. loom banners are cool!! engravings are awesome!! stained glass? even better! that being said, feel free to submit statues and modern art stuff because if we're running a poll about art that fucks you up, it would be absolutely criminal to stick to just those.

(and yes. we do accept statues and paintings of people in the nude. just stay away from sending us real life photos of people having sex and claiming it's art. technically it kind of is, but we're not accepting those submissions. i reserve the right to refuse a submission.)

unfortunately, we will not be accepting fanart. i know there are some fantastic pieces of art made by people on this website for their fandoms, but we're not going to be accepting those :(

ALSO. if you are submitting art made by someone actively on tumblr, PLEASE ASK THEM FOR PERMISSION. technically, whilst making the polls, we would be reposting art which is usually against most artist's boundaries.

that being said, this is pretty free for all! send in some art, and let's get this show on the road!

submit through the askbox (off-anon so you can send in the image) and explain what the art makes you feel and (if possible) why. does that painting makes you want to run your hand through a slow moving flow of magma? tell us! PROVIDE A SOURCE OR IT WON'T COUNT.

we'll see how large the bracket will be once we start getting submissions, but given that this isn't really fandom-open it probably won't get too popular. (that doesn't mean you shouldn't participate with lessened fervor though!)

inspired by: @poetrysmackdown and @notanothersongaboutlovebracket!!

[southparkhcsocs]

Hi, idk if you take hcs but if you do then could you please do main four + butters with an s/o who is a dancer and also keep up the good job 👏 💗 ^u^

What kinda dance? I'm doing professional? I'm assuming professional?

Stan Marsh

He knew were a dancer

But he didn't know you were a good dancer

He wasn't too interested in it at first

But when he accidentally accepted going to one of your dance shows

Well he couldn't stop

Your biggest cheerleader

Brags about how good you were

If it's a competition and you don't win

SLANDER!

Kyle Broflovski

Idk if you were embarrassed about it

Or if you just didn't think it was interesting

But you never told Kyle you danced

Not that you weren't proud of dancing

It was just something you did

So when you mentioned you have a show coming up it caught him by surprise

"you dance?"

"yeah?"

"Like... Professionally?"

"eh, I guess."

Now you have a new No1 fan!

He's at every show

No matter how much you downplay it

"did you know y/n dances?!"

He'd try and make every rehearsal if he didn't have work/class

Kenny McCormick

Didn't believe you at first

Idk why he didnt

You were out with him and his friends

You off handedly mentioned that you dance

He kinda looked at you like "yeah, right." But didn't say anything.

So when on the way home

"go on then."

"what?"

"show me your moves!"

You laugh, feeling a bit embarrassed being asked to dance on the spot.

IN PUBLIC

So you say maybe once you're home

He chuckles, thinking he's gonna see you do some dumb tiktok dance

Boy was he so wrong

"I guess it make sense why you're so flexible."

Eric Cartman

Bros like "challenge accepted"

Straight up arranged a venue and told EVERYONE

DANCE BATTLE

Thinking you maybe know some dance moves

Cartman is a good dancer

But no where near as good as you.

So of course he's pissed when he loses.

Won't talk to you for days

Might WILL sabotage any auditions you have

Because he's a bastard

But when he sees how fuckin devastated you are after not getting the show of your dreams

He realised he fucked up

So what does he do

Blackmails the director of course!

"babe. Guess what?!"

"what?"

"the lead for the show I auditioned for dropped out and they asked me to do it!!"

"wow. Does that mean you'll stop you annoying ass crying."

"whatever dickhead, I got the part!!!!"

Leopold "Butters" Stotch

PTSD

But no, as long as its not tap dancing

He's there

He gets t-shirts printed

Banners

Flags

The works

BOY WILL MAKE SURE YOUR SHOES ARE ON TIGHT!

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, minor character deaths, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You browsed the shelves with a deep frown, the sounds of your friends’ laughter in your ears as they searched for their favorite snacks too. You guys were halfway to Florida, the excitement in the air contagious as you embarked on the road trip that had been in the works for almost a year. You could hear Wanda telling you to hurry up, something about making the process rocket science.

“Sorry,” you dragged out, joining her at the counter. “…but I think what snacks you choose for an hours long car ride is pretty important.”

“We’re literally going to eat right after this,” a familiar voice said from over your shoulder as MJ pulled up beside you. “…and shopping too.”

She grumbled that last part, and Wanda chuckled.

“The whole point of this trip is to have fun,” the redhead reminded her.

“In some small rinky dink backwoods town?” Michelle murmured. “They don’t even have a mall.”

The man working the counter gave her a look at that, and you nudged her with a look of your own. You definitely had similar thoughts of your own when Pietro stopped here, Wanda’s brother voicing his desire for something to eat. It certainly wouldn’t be your first choice, but it had its charm you could admit. Everyone seemed nice so far, and you were quick to scold Michelle when you made your way out of the gas station.

“Don’t be so snobby,” you told her. “Besides, we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyway.”

“Finally,” you heard Pietro groan as the three of you approached the car. “I was about to leave you.”

Wanda lightly pushed his head as she slid into the passenger seat, you and Michelle settling into the back. Driving from Maine to Washington to Florida sounded like an insane thing to do when it was first suggested, but the more you and Wanda had laughed about it, the less funny it became. Michelle pretended to need her arm twisted into going, but it was obvious that she was into it. Once Pietro offered to be the main driver, the plans were set.

“I was googling restaurants here while you three were taking your sweet time,” he said, pulling onto the road.

You watched Wanda snatch his phone, scrolling through what he’d pulled up.

“We should see the Statue of Athena when we get to Tennessee,” Michelle suggested, looking out of the window.

Pietro mumbled something unintelligible, but Wanda voiced her agreement. You were mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant, but it wasn’t a long drive. Michelle was right when she said the town was small, and the restaurant that was decided on took no time to get to.

It was a quaint place, nothing too extraordinary or even huge. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, and the only notable vehicles were two police cars near the building. Wanda and Pietro were going back and forth about what the restaurant may or may not serve while Michelle slid some shades onto her eyes to block out the sun.

There was a bell above the door that rang when it opened, and you looked around the establishment as Wanda talked to one of the waitresses. As the woman led the four of you to a table, your gaze passed over four cops seated in the corner of the restaurant. You didn’t know if they were on break or officially done for the day, but if their table was anything to go by, they’d been eating here for a while.

When the waitress came back with menus and glasses of water, you asked her if there was a bathroom.

“Oh, sure, honey,” she sweetly told you, pointing towards a hallway over her shoulder. “Just through there.”

“Why didn’t you go at the gas station?” Wanda wondered as you stood.

“…because it was probably ten times more disgusting than this one could be.”

You told Michelle what you wanted to order just in case you weren’t back by the time the waitress returned to get orders. You hurried into the hallway, finding the bathroom with ease. There was only one, and you were relieved when your knock on the door was met with silence. Like you predicted, this bathroom was cleaner than you expected the one at the gas station to be.

You’d drank a lot of water since the last stop, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sigh of relief as you peed. Just as you were pulling your pants up, you heard a knock on the door, and you hurried to button them and wash your hands.

“I’ll be out in a second,” you called.

With one last look in the mirror, noting that car ride sleep was doing more wonders than sleeping in your own bed, you opened the door.

You were startled by the sight of one of the cops you’d seen earlier. You blinked at the sight of him, noting how boyish he looked up close. He seemed just as taken aback by you, although why, you didn’t know. You had the stray thought of wondering if he was even old enough to be a cop, and you shook it away. You knew guys from back who started making moves to be one the second they turned eighteen.

“Sorry,” you apologized for almost running into him. “It’s all yours.”

You sent him a polite smile, the smile dropping some when he didn’t really…move. A few seconds passed of him just looking at you, and after some time, he finally blinked himself, shaking his head. You noticed some strands of his dark hair move with the action.

“Sorry.”

Now, it was his turn to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have been standing that close,” he said, finally moving out of your way so you could walk out. “Enjoy your food.”

You sent him another polite smile at that, returning to the table. Pietro told you that they’d ordered when you sat back down, Michelle confirming that she’d ordered for you. When you made yourself comfortable in your seat, you glanced around again, your gaze catching an unfamiliar blue one. It was one of the cops at the table, a blond man with an intimidating build, and you quickly looked away.

“I kind of don’t want to skip North Carolina,” Wanda said, and both MJ and Pietro sighed.

You chuckled, already knowing why she wanted to go there.

“Outer Banks is just so far out of the way, Wanda,” you told her.

“Yes, but it’s a road trip,” she quietly whined. “The whole point is to see things and have fun. Besides, it’s not like we have a set date on when this is supposed to come to an end. It can end whenever we want, right?”

None of you had an argument for that, and she smiled, almost triumphantly.

“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself. We all still have to agree,” Michelle said, but she couldn’t fight back her small smile.

“…but I’m driving,” the only man of the bunch spoke up, and Wanda flicked his arm.

“There are three of us and one of you. Hush before we put you in the trunk,” Wanda teased.

The waitress brought your food over before another word could get in, and you glanced up to thank her. As you did, your eyes passed over that same cop from earlier, the one you’d ran into outside of the bathroom. Your gazes briefly connected, and you had an odd reaction to it, a shudder traveling down your spine.

You frowned a bit as you gave your attention to your food. It wasn’t that weird, you guessed. It was a small restaurant after all, and aside from them and your friends, there were only about three other people in the building. It was probably your own bias to be honest. Men in positions of authority never bode well with you, and policemen were at the top of the list for a multitude of reasons.

You guys discussed the rest of your trip over your lunch, making a list of things you wanted to see. Pietro huffed at every third suggestion. When there came a point where you could feel yourself getting full, you peered around for the waitress. With no sign of her, you decided to just go to the counter and ask for some takeout boxes. What you presumed was the owner nodded at you.

“Yeah, give me one moment…”

When he walked away, you pulled out your phone to see if there actually was any place decent in town to shop at. Worst case scenario, you guys would wind up at a Walmart or something. Google was just pulling up some results when you felt a shift in the air, a shift at your side. You glanced over and was shocked to see that same cop from before next to you.

You didn’t acknowledge it outside of that, facing forward again just as he spoke.

“Hey, Nick! Bring some out for us too,” he called.

Your attention was drawn to your fingers on the counter, tapping them and drawing circles into the wood. You could feel the heat of a gaze on your face, and you thought that maybe you were imagining it until the man next to you spoke up.

“Are you and your friends new in town?”

You were startled by the question, by the act of him talking to you, and you looked at him just as he spoke again.

“…or just passing through?”

There was a small smile on his lips as he said that, the corners curving upwards ever so slightly.

“Just passing through,” you finally answered. “Road trip.”

He hummed with a nod, gaze passing over you.

“My buddies and I went on a small road trip a few years back. It was pretty fun.”

You gave a tight lipped chuckle at that, looking towards the kitchen and wondering what was taking the owner so long. You both felt and heard the cop move closer, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he spoke again.

“Our town isn’t much, but there’s a few nice shops and boutiques around here,” he said, making you look at him in wonder.

“Oh?’

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper. “I’d hate for you to leave here with a bad impression.”

He chuckled, and you eventually joined in.

“We need you to come back. How else will we make any money?”

“Right,” you lightly said with a smile.

You took the list from him with a thanks, and he held it for a few seconds longer than necessary before finally letting go. You folded it up as he introduced himself.

“Peter,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated, eyeing the appendage for some reason.

Peter seemed nice enough, maybe overly so, but again. That was probably just your own bias. Besides, even if he was a little strange to you, you would never see him again. You guys would be leaving in a few hours and heading further south. On the off chance that you did ever come back to visit, the chances of running into this same cop were low.

You gently shook his hand, introducing yourself too.

The owner finally returned then, bringing a bunch of carryout boxes with extra to keep at the counter. You took a few, thanking him and leaving the man Peter without another word. Your friends were in a discussion about Pietro’s ex-girlfriend when you returned. You told them about a list of shops in town as they packed up their food.

“That cop told me,” you told Wanda once she asked, walking outside. “The youngest one.”

You didn’t think of him again once you were in the car and driving down the street. Wanda was happy with the suggestions, finding at least two things at every shop. You and Michelle stopped for ice cream while Wanda went into some mom-and-pop pharmacy. Pietro was by the car and on his phone. While Michelle complimented the chocolate mint she got, you glanced up and caught sight of a cop car slowly passing by.

You only gave it a second glance when you recognized the cop in the passenger seat as the same blond from the restaurant. You frowned a bit, Michelle’s words fading to the background. You reminded yourself that it was a small town, and while the police department back home had hundreds of cops, the one here maybe had a total of fifteen. It was probably normal here to see the same cop several times in the same day.

You and Michelle met Wanda back in the car, Pietro telling you guys to get a move on. You were texting your mom, telling her you guys were on the road again as Pietro started the car. You loved her, but she worried too much, and while you didn’t mind placating her and keeping her up to date on where you were, it still made you roll your eyes.

After eating and walking around for a bit, you could feel yourself getting sleepy. It was to be expected. All of that combined with the smooth drive was really doing you in. Wanda and Michelle’s conversation became nothing more than a soft hum, and you were drifting more and more, but you knew Pietro hadn’t been driving long when you felt him starting to slow down.

You didn’t think a thing of it at first, not until you heard him curse anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle wondered.

“The engine is cutting out,” you heard him say. “There’s…the gas. It’s gone.”

You opened your eyes at that, peeling them open just as the car came to a complete stop on the side of the road. You blinked, rubbing them and sitting up.

“What?” you heard Wanda say.

“Didn’t you just get gas?” you wondered.

“Yeah,” Pietro scoffed. “What the hell…?”

He tried to start the car a few more times with no luck, and only then was that when you started to get worried. When the twins got out of the car, you followed with a frown. Michelle poked her head out of the window as Pietro popped the hood.

“We had a full tank and then suddenly it just dropped,” he said from under the hood. “It has to be the fuel line…”

Wanda leaned against the car, and you pulled out your phone. You started texting your mom, and after a while of it not going through, you realized you must be on a bad stretch of road. You were holding your phone high as Pietro tried to figure out what was going on with the car. Wanda was trying to make a call too, and you’d just dropped your arm in frustration when the sound of a car reached your ears.

“Someone’s coming. Maybe we can get them to call someone or bring us some gas,” you suggested.

As the car appeared at the top of the hill, you realized it was a cop car. You weren’t sure if you should feel relieved about that, and you sank your teeth into your lip. Without even needing to flag them down, it started to slow, and you moved closer to the rental as it stopped right behind it.

You didn’t really know how to feel when a familiar face rose out of the passenger seat.

It was the same cop from the restaurant.

Peter.

The one who rose out of the driver’s seat was at the restaurant too. You remembered him, skin dark and hair cut low, and you wrung your hands together, frown deepening. You wondered how many coincidences became weird, became something that was no longer a coincidence.

“Hey,” Peter waved to you, that friendly smile on his pink lips.

You could feel your friends’ eyes on you, and you sent the cop a tight smile.

“Hi,” you nervously breathed.

“Car trouble?” he wondered, moving closer.

His partner lingered by the cop car…watching. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling weird all of a sudden, and you glanced over your shoulder. Pietro was peering from around the hood, and Michelle had gotten out of the car, now.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “We think it’s the engine or…something. One minute we had a near full tank of gas and then nothing.”

You shrugged as he neared the front of the car, peering under the hood. You glanced back at the other cop nervously, unable to help feeling like something was off. Peter didn’t remain under the hood for long, straightening and sending a nod to his partner. You heard the other man speak into his radio, and Wanda spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just going to give you guys a ride back to town,” Peter said, and that didn’t relieve you.

“What about the car?” Michelle wondered.

“We’ll get someone to come and get and take it to a shop,” the other cop finally spoke up.

All four of you looked at each other. You still didn’t know what exactly was wrong with it, so it made sense to have it looked at, but this was definitely putting a dent in your plans. Not to mention how off this all still felt to you.

“There’s four of us,” you commented. “Honestly, if you could just call for a tow…”

“Well, that’s why I called for backup. That way we can give everyone a ride,” the other cop replied.

You looked to your friends, trying to gage how they felt about this. This just didn’t feel right to you, but you guys were stuck practically in the middle of nowhere with no gas and a faulty car with unknown reasons as to why. You didn’t want to be the one to disagree if everyone else was okay with it, but Wanda spoke before you could.

“Actually, I think we’ll just keep trying to call a tow.”

You could see another cop car coming over the hill, now, and you moved closer to Michelle. Peter, the only cop whose name you knew, was near you again, and he sent you what was meant to be a comforting smile, you were sure.

“It’s no trouble. Just let us drive you back to town and-.”

“Thanks, but we’re just going to decline,” you told him. “That’s nice of you though…”

You made to get back in the car when Peter stopped you. You were startled by the feel of his hand on your wrist, looking at him with wide eyes, and Pietro’s voice reached your ears.

“Hey,” he called, nearing you both. “We appreciate the offer, but we’d rather just call a tow truck, alright?”

He grabbed Peter’s arm, the action drawing his attention to Pietro, and you used the opportunity to stumble away. Peter looked at your friend with a gaze in his eye you couldn’t name, but it unnerved you, cementing that odd feeling you’d felt since they’d arrived. Peter didn’t look so boyish, now, so…nice. His dark eyes studied Pietro’s hand on him, and the other cop car had slowed to a stop, now.

“I could arrest you on assaulting an officer,” he quietly said, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You grabbed our friend first,” Michelle argued, the concern that you’d been feeling all along now reflected on her face.

“Pietro,” you said, reaching for him and trying to get him to back up.

He did, but you had a feeling that the offense was already done.

“He shouldn’t touch you like that,” he spat, and Wanda was now standing with you three.

You didn’t like the way Peter was looking at Wanda’s brother, and you looked over as the other officers got out of their car too. Your lips parted, chest clenching painfully as your eyes landed on that same blond-haired, blue-eyed cop from the restaurant. The brunette at his side had been there too, and you sharply inhaled.

Something was very wrong.

The blond was quickly approaching, speaking to Peter as if the four of you weren’t even there.

“What’s the problem?”

Peter spoke before any of you could.

“Car trouble. We tried to offer them a ride back to town, but their friend here thought it was okay to assault an officer.”

The way Peter spoke to the blond, it made it clear who was the higher up of the two, and you scoffed at the words leaving his mouth.

“That’s not true. You grabbed her and Pietro-.”

“Pietro, is it?” the blond cut Wanda off, approaching her brother. “You have the right to remain silent...”

“Wait,” Wanda cried. “This is insane, he barely touched him. Your buddy-.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”

You blinked in disbelief, unable to understand how some simple car trouble had escalated into Pietro getting arrested. While Wanda was trying to argue with the cop currently putting Pietro in handcuffs, you didn’t notice Peter moving closer to you until his hand was on your arm.

“We’ll drive the rest of you back to town…”

“No!” you pulled against his hand, shocked when he didn’t let go. “I don’t want to go anywhere. You can’t arrest him, he didn’t do anything!”

Panic filled you when Peter appeared to be stronger than he looked, practically dragging you away, and Michelle called out. It had gotten Wanda’s attention too, and they both ran over.

“Let go of her,” Michelle cried.

In all the commotion, you didn’t realize the other two cops had come over too. There was too much going on, and in the chaos, you found yourself tripping over your feet and out of Peter’s grip. Your chin knocked against the pavement, and you winced. You pushed yourself to your hands and knees, glancing up just in time to see that blond cop reach for his gun.

Your lips parted at the sight of Pietro pushing against him, unaware of what was about to happen.

You screamed his name just as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, and you felt your skin grow cold at the sight of your best friend’s brother going…limp. Blood had never bothered you before, but in this context, it was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Wanda’s scream brought tears to your eyes, and you heard Peter curse.

“What the hell, Steve?” one of the other cops said, and their cavalier attitude about it had you stumbling to your feet.

The blond cop, Steve, finally spoke up.

“It was going to happen now or later, right?”

You looked at him, horrified, and you mindlessly reached for Michelle’s hand, but she batted it away. You looked at her, meeting her dark eyes as she seemed to have come to some conclusion you hadn’t yet. She looked disturbed, and she wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“Run,” she whispered.

Obviously, you guys were going to run, but her hand was pushing on your arm, pushing you away. Wanda was a screaming and crying mess, detained by the brunette who’d come with Steve, and more than you wanted to run, you wanted to hold her. What had just happened didn’t quite feel real, and you had a hard time convincing yourself that this wasn’t some awful nightmare you’d conjured up while falling asleep in the car.

Pietro was dead…and your eyes studied the way his blood crawled away from him. It made your stomach turn, and Steve’s next words took what little breath you had left.

“Peter…are you taking her or not?”

He sounded irritated, frustrated, and you slowly looked from him to Peter. His eyes met yours, and you took a step back as several things happened at once, too fast for you to comprehend, but just slow enough for you to witness.

The other cop, the brunette with hair that brushed his chin, took out his gun, and suddenly Wanda was just as dead as her brother. Steve was grabbing Pietro like he was nothing, the fourth cop was reaching for Michelle, and Peter was taking a step towards you. You didn’t even have time to react to it, Michelle grabbing your hand and taking off.

You couldn’t quite register that you were running, feet moving so fast and clumsily that it was a wonder you didn’t fall. Grass and twigs were scratching at your ankles and branches were snagging on your clothes. Witnessing the death of two of your friends wasn’t something you were able to process, too in disbelief, too in denial.

Michelle’s hand was tight in yours, and then it wasn’t.

You stumbled to a stop as she collapsed, your wide eyes falling to her frame. She was gasping and clutching her chest, a horrifying gurgling sound leaving her lips. Blood was soaking her shirt in a terrifying capacity, and when you fell to her knees beside her, her bloody hand pushed at you. Against your better judgement, you pressed your hand against her chest, but you knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Every cough coated her lips in more red, and you could hear the hurried footsteps approaching.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and even though Michelle couldn’t speak, her dying action was to harshly shove you away. You glanced between her and the approaching cops, and feeling like your body was working on autopilot, you struggled to stand. It took you too long to take your eyes off of her, breaking out into a confused run.

You didn’t want to die, and you didn’t know why this was happening.

Michelle’s blood was on you, all of your friends were dead, and you were being chased through the woods by cops you had never even seen before today. Your vision blurred from your tears, and you felt like you weren’t getting air fast enough. You couldn’t hear anything else outside of your breathing, ears deaf to all other sounds.

You had never been particularly athletic, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins had your legs pushing farther than they ever had. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything beyond the sight of your dead friends, fear tightening your chest at the thought of ending up just like them. You thought you were running fast enough, but maybe it was silly to think you could outrun a cop who’d trained for things like this.

You hit the ground hard.

Truthfully, you didn’t even understand why you’d fallen at first. You’d just started flailing and screaming, and in the commotion, sometimes your hands or feet would connect with something. Or better yet, someone. Your nails broke skin, and you couldn’t tell what blood was MJ’s and what blood was…Peter’s.

“Hey, hey,” he gently said, trying to shush you, pressing his body against yours and trying to get his hand over your mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him. Why would you believe him? You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t swallow down the heavy sobs that kept climbing out of your throat. Every swipe of your hand got more of Michelle’s blood on his face, and the visual made your stomach churn. You were pushing your arm against his throat as he reached down, and so sure that you were going to die, you were shocked by the feeling of being shocked.

The taser made you jerk, halting your movements long enough to allow Peter to grab your arms. Your body was still shaking some when he turned you on your stomach, and you squeezed your eyes shut, your breath moving dirt. You couldn’t stop crying even if you tried, and you wailed at both the feel and the sound of the handcuffs clicking into place.

“Sam,” you heard him call, his breathing just as heavy as yours.

Peter was sitting on your lower back, knees pressed into the dirt on either side of your waist. You felt him pull the back of your shirt down, a pinch making you wince, and you didn’t miss the way the hand that held your head down was massaging your scalp with its fingers. It was almost soothing, or maybe that was just from whatever was in the syringe.

Your body felt weighed down by more than just the grown man holding you down, and when he moved, starting to lift you, you confirmed that. You stumbled, vision tilting and spinning, and Peter leaned you against him. You could feel his arms holding you as your knees buckled, and you blinked up at him, your breathing shaky. The corners of your vision were going dark, and a few more tears escaped.

“I don’t want to die,” you heard yourself whisper.

You could make out his frown, the way his dark eyes ran over you. You shuddered at the feel of his fingers on your cheek, brushing a tear away, and you swallowed when he shook his head.

“You’re not going to.”

The stench of blood was the last thing any of your senses registered.

[here4kpopfics]

Leave The Door Open 3 | JJK

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: Jungkook x (f)reader

Genre: smut, fluff, humor, just straight up porn.

AU: established relationship

Wordcount: 7,020

Summary: Jungkook keeps buying toys to torture you with, but this time he bought one for you to use on him.

Warnings: Language. Just a whole lot of smut.   

Smut warnings: Explicit sex. Unprotected sex (Wrap it folks). Pet names (Sparkles, Baby, and Kookie are used an OBSCENE amount). Edging. Pegging. Oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Light choking/breath play. Use of sex toys. Anal and anal play. Spanking. a lot of Biting. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Technically cum eating. Creampie. I’m sure there’s more. I’m tired.

Rating: M / 18+

AN: Here we are again. Where I say this wasn’t meant to happen. Part 2 was the final and I was happy. But @btsgotjams27 is a genuine menace to my brain and after three or four rewrites, here we fucking go again. This is straight up porn. There’s not a single moment where it isn’t. Read More right at the beginning so you know it’s smutty. Thank you @here2bbtstrash​​ for beta-reading my filth. and the gorgeous @classicseffects​ for the banner and divider. I do not deserve either of you in the slightest.

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee? | Patreon

Jungkook after two weeks of celibacy was no joke.

Every time he comes back after one of Taehyung’s matches where he stupidly decides to be celibate, you think that maybe you’d be able to keep up with his intense stamina and filthy thoughts that he had planned over the course of fourteen days, but you were wrong. While he had all that pent up lust, he’d never leave you alone longer than two days without making you come. He was obsessed with your moans and the way your body felt in his hands as you fell apart for him. 

No matter how much either of you said no more, that you would try to do the two weeks without an orgasm with him, you’d only ever make it a day or two before his hands were back on you and he’d bring out a new toy he got for you. 

The most recent, however, was not for you. It was a few days after Taehyung had an apparently huge match, and you purposefully stayed away from Jungkook for the two weeks so he could focus on getting Tae ready, even going as far to stay with Jeongyeon for a bit. When he finally got back home Friday morning, he pounded on your door only to pound you against it once you let him in. 

You had sex with your boyfriend throughout the weekend, with moments of sleeping, eating, and a shower or two in between rounds. It wasn’t until later Sunday afternoon, when you were both sitting on your kitchen island surrounding a nearly empty pizza box, that he remembered his purchase. 

He hopped off the counter, your bed sheet still wrapped around his bottom half, and went to dig through his luggage he left by the door until he shouted in victory, scurrying back to you. You had just bitten into the last slice as he hopped back up, smiling at you, your legs crossed in a giant shirt you stole from him, a blanket underneath you to keep your bare bottom from touching the cold counter. You had no issue sitting without a blanket, but Jungkook had insisted he needed to protect his “favorite thing” from the cold surface.

“Why are you so smiley?” You ask cautiously. Any time he gets smiley, it’s because he found a toy to torture you with. “Kookie, I really don’t think I have it in me for more weird toys and experimentations of what my body can handle…”

“It’s not for you, Sparkles.” His grin grows wider, and there’s a glint of something dark in his eyes. Interesting.

“Oh? What is it, then? A cock ring? Pretty sure you can do that pretty well with just your hand without paying for a silicone rubber band. I’ve seen you do it.” You watch his face redden slightly as he shakes his head and puts the small box in front of you.

A-Play Vibe Beginner Plug

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “Do I finally?” You put the pizza back in the box, wiping your hands on whatever’s closest to you, it’s all going in the laundry later anyway, and crawl into his lap, cupping his face. 

“Do I finally get to play with you?” You whisper against his lips, a smile creeping across your face. He bites his bottom lip, toying with his lip ring, and nods slowly.

“I don’t know about fucking me, but…this could be a good start?” His face shows excitement, but his words sound worried, hesitant, and a little scared. His hands run up and down your outer thighs, squeezing your hips with every pass. 

“No, it’s okay babe. We don’t have to jump straight to that. We can start with this. We can go as slow as you want.” You card your fingers through his hair, grasping at the roots near the nape of his neck, and pull him into a deep kiss. 

You both relax into the little makeout session in the kitchen, his hands finding a way up under your shirt and smoothing across your back, before finding their way back down to your hips as you roll them against his growing erection. 

“When can we play?” You murmur against his cheek, kissing down to his neck.

You two had spoken about this a few different times. You didn’t think it was fair that he could play with your ass, but you still hadn’t played with his. And he never once denied wanting it. He had stated he was bisexual like you were, but had only bottomed twice, both being rather unpleasant experiences. And you knew he was a switch like you, but you were both perfectly okay with him being more dominant as your brain often turned to mush around him. 

But since that first conversation after you two made your relationship official, he had been cleaning himself out and prepping, just in case you decided to go for it, every time you two had sex. But tonight was different, tonight wasn’t an “if'', it was actually going to happen, and he was suddenly nervous.

“I just need to…to prep…first.” His hands still your hips, and you look back at him, slightly worried.

“Are you okay? Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah. I mean…I’m cleaned out and all that. Just…nervous. It's fine.” He softly chuckles, but he still sounds nervous.

“Wanna take a shower together? Help you relax?” You gently grab his face again, running a thumb across his lips. He smiles, kissing your thumb, and nods.

“Yes, please.”

You giggle, crawling off him and hopping off the counter with his help. You turn back to him, kissing him again after he hops down next to you. “This is gonna be fun.” You smile, taking off your shirt and tossing it on the counter, Jungkook doing the same with the bed sheet. 

You both head into the shower, bringing the toy in with you after cleaning it first, and confirming that he had charged it prior. 

“First, let’s just take a shower, okay? We’ll take it super slow, Kookie. I want this to be good for you.”

“Usually it’s me saying that…” His brows pinch together and you laugh as you turn on the shower, holding the shower head away from the both of you to ensure it’s a good temperature. Once you put it back up, you grab your shampoo, squeezing a good amount into your hand before turning around and prompting him to lower to your level. 

You both enjoyed this part. You did it often in your relationship, especially on days with multiple rounds. One of you would start to feel too dirty and it was off to the shower for you both. You felt this was the place you two were the most intimate and vulnerable with one another, way more than sex made you feel.

It’s the act of taking care of one another in ways outside of bed. And outside of buying things, cooking, cleaning, and other acts of service. Being completely naked in front of each other and helping to clean away both the physical and metaphorical dirt and grime from day to day life. You both loved it. Any excuse to shower together, you’d take it. You both even went as far as going through the store, sniffing each shampoo, conditioner, and body wash to find the three that you both liked and got a set for each apartment. 

Once you’ve both shampooed and conditioned each other's hair, giving him soft kisses in between, you reach for the body wash. You squeeze some out on the washcloth and make it sudsy before he holds out his arm for you, as per your routine. You wipe up and down his arm once before continuing across his chest to the other arm. You get so lost in the action of cleaning up your boyfriend, that you almost forget why you were in the shower to begin with.

Once you feel satisfied about getting all the soap on him, paying a little extra attention to his behind, you set the washcloth aside and let the showerhead wash the soap down his body, your hands following suit until they land on his abs. You lock eyes with his, silently whispering kiss. He complies, leaning down to grab the back of your neck and pulling you up to a loving kiss.

You smile, deepening the kiss as your hands trail down his abs, tracing around his pelvis, brushing your fingers over anything that isn’t where he wants you most. He whines into the kiss and you smile, wrapping your tongue around his, swallowing the moan he lets out as you finally grab his now fully erect cock. 

“Good?” You whisper softly, and he nods, kissing your nose. You give him one more quick kiss before dropping to your knees, hand pumping him slowly on your way down.

“Baby, please.” He whimpers as you kiss the tip of his cock.

“Shh, baby. Just relax and enjoy and I’ll take care of you, okay?” He nods again, hissing as you suddenly wrap your mouth around him and shove him as far back as you can until you're gagging.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s fucking perfect.” He bends forward a bit, hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you down farther on his cock. You give one tap to his thigh and he lets go, allowing you to pull off, breathing heavily as you both watch your saliva mixed with his precum string between him and your mouth. You look up at him, making sure he’s still okay before wrapping your hand around him again and lifting up so you can wrap your mouth around his balls while slowly pumping him. 

You don’t get to pay too much attention to his balls, though, when you feel him twitch in your hand. He’s close, which means although you said slow, you need to pick up the pace just a little bit. You give one last open mouth kiss to his balls and move down to kitten lick at the secret sweet spot between them and his hole for a second before finally getting to where you’ve been wanting to be most. You lay your tongue flat against his rim, adding the smallest pressure to gauge his reaction. 

He let out a hiss, tugging you away from him, muttering wait a few times. You back up on your knees, confused until you watch him turn away from you, lifting a leg and resting his foot on the seat in the shower and leaning forward, shoving his ass in your direction. “Is that better?” he quietly murmurs. 

“So much better, Kookie.” You sigh out a laugh, crawling back to him and massaging his ass, spreading his cheeks and bringing them back, watching him clench and unclench. 

You dive back in, licking a circle around his rim, causing him to moan out again as he presses his ass further against your tongue. So you go to work, adding more and more pressure, spitting on his hole before teasingly putting enough pressure to try to press your tongue past his muscle.

“More, baby. You can do more…” He muffles his moans in one of his arms and you pull away enough to slap his ass just once.

“Don’t you dare muffle those sounds, Kookie. I want to hear every sound you make, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry, baby.”

“You will be if you do it again,” you threaten, but you know you have no real dominance here. Maybe a little in this position, and for the situation he allowed you to be in, but not enough to enable punishment or anything he’s done to you in the past. You both know this, and yet he treats your threat like a real one.

You bring the lube out, shower still on, but it’s not enough to keep him comfortable. You add a little dollop to his hole, setting the lube aside for a moment, and begin adding pressure with your index finger. It eases in pretty easily as he allows his body to fully relax for you, teasingly tugging at his cock. You drop out a little more lube, adding your middle finger next. 

The sound he makes for you could only be described as what you’d like the sounds of heaven to be. He cries out, smacking the underside of his thigh, biting his bottom lip to focus on anything else other than the urge to come.

You’re having too much fun with this, slowly adding a third finger when you feel he’s ready.

“Fucking hell, Kookie, the day you let me fuck this little ass… You’re gonna be so full with me in you, baby. So fucking full. You’ll be begging for it.” 

“Mmph,” is the only sound he can make. Words no longer exist in his brain as he shoves his ass back, fucking himself on your fingers. 

“That’s so hot, Kookie. Keep going. Let me know when you want the plug.”

He waits all of five seconds before he strains out the words “I want it,” groaning as you pull your fingers out. You quickly reach for the plug and add a generous amount of lube to it. 

“Ready?” He nods his head furiously.

“Tsk tsk, Kookie. What’s that you’re always going on with me about? Using your words?” You bring your index finger back to his rim, pressing lightly. 

“Fuck, Sparkles. I’m ready. I want it. Put it in, please.” He sounds desperate and you love it.

“Now you know how I feel, teasing jerk,” you smirk, slowly easing the plug in, marveling how his ass easily swallows up the thickest part. 

The deep and scratchy whine he lets out is enough to make you want to come. You press the plug in a little further until it’s fully in except for the handle.

“All good, Kookie?” You rub your hand up and down his lower back, smiling as you watch him clench around the little toy. 

��Turn it on,” he mumbles and you turn off the shower, getting off your knees.

“Get on the bed and I might.” You decide to have a little fun while you have a little bit of control and give his cute ass another nice slap, making his hips buck forward, the plug pressing in deeper ever so slightly. 

You’ve never seen him move so fast, rushing past you and crawling onto the bed, sitting on his knees with his ass resting on his feet. You dry off quickly, exiting the bathroom with a smug grin on your face. 

“I could get used to this view. You, sitting there, waiting patiently for me with a plug in your ass. Waiting for me to do literally anything.” You crawl behind him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder. You reveal the little remote control in your hand and kiss his shoulder when he lets out a low moan. 

“You want me to turn it on, Kookie?” You kiss the shell of his ear and feel him shudder. 

“Please.” 

You nod, showing him as you press the power button. You barely hear the vibrations but you don’t need to to know it’s on. Jungkook’s posture straightens up and tenses. You can hear his breath catch in his throat as he leans back into your chest.

“You okay, Kookie? Less or leave it?”

His head lands on your shoulder, looking up at you with his adorable Bambi eyes struggling to stay open. 

“More…”

“Yeah? My Kookie wants more?” He nods, his hands gripping your shins on either side of him. You kiss his temple as you turn it up twice. “Fuck your hand, Kookie. Pretend it’s me your cock is pumping into.”

He obeys, rushing to wrap his hands around his cock, still wet from the shower and the amount of precum leaking from the tip that he smears down his cock before bucking his hips up into his hands. It’s not a perfect rhythm like it usually is, because every time he bucks up, he clenches around the plug, causing the vibrations to feel more intense. 

“Baby. I can’t. I can’t. I need to fuck you for real. Please. Please let me fuck your perfect tight cunt while this is vibrating in me. Please, baby. Fuck, I need to be inside you with this in me. Please.” His head, still resting on your shoulder, is turned toward your neck and every pleading word is whispered against your skin, making your core flutter. 

Before you can even decide on whether or not to give up control to him once again, he pulls himself off you and in one swift movement, flips over to pin you down on the bed, hovering on top of you. His lips return to your neck, marking you repeatedly, licking over marks from earlier in the day. 

“Let me fuck you, baby. Let me fill you with my cum while you vibrate the toy in my ass. Please? I want it. I need it.” 

Fuck this man and his begging voice that make you so goddamn weak. 

You pull his face away from your neck to bring to your lips. Kissing slow languid kisses, you reach down between you both to guide his cock to your entrance, barely giving him enough time to notice you easing the head in, allowing him to snap his hips into yours once he realizes he can. 

You both loudly groan at the stretch. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing him further into you, and your arms around his shoulders, keeping his lips near yours at all times. 

“Fuck, I can’t do it slow for you, baby. I’m sorry.” He whimpers against your lips, pulling his hips back and slamming into you repeatedly, eventually finding a good pace, hips still faltering from the vibrations. 

“Fuck me, Kookie. Fill me up.” He growls against your lips in response, moving back down to your shoulder and biting down as he moves at an unrelenting pace. You’re sure the back of your thighs will be red or bruised from how hard he’s slamming his hips into you, but you don’t care, crying out his name repeatedly until your body is shaking as you come around him. Jungkook groans into your shoulder as your walls clench around him, urging him to fill you up with his cum. 

You grab the remote control next to you and turn off the vibrations as he collapses on top of you, letting both of you take a moment to remember how breathing works. After a few moments, he sits up, pulling himself out of you with a small hiss and using his thumb to shove the cum back inside, not letting any go to waste. 

He gazes across your body, admiring every inch of you. God you’re beautiful is murmured a few times before he catches your gaze on him, and you lock eyes for a moment. 

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. You can see it on his face. But you’re still shocked by the response. 

“Like you’re the only person for me.” He says it so softly, so kind, so full of love that you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. 

“I love you.”

Both sets of eyes go wide. Yours full of panic, his indecipherable. Before you can backtrack or awkwardly add to the sentence, he’s back on top of you and his lips are on yours. 

This kiss is different. You’ve shared many types of kisses with your boyfriend of two months now. The desperate and needy kisses, the aftercare kisses, the reassuring ones, the random mid-conversation kisses, and the lazy half-asleep kisses, just to name a few. But this one? This one is unique. This is one that you both know will only ever happen a few times in your relationship, during specific moments like a wedding or having a child. This is a kiss of fully understanding each other and being on the same page about your feelings. This is a kiss saying a million words in one silent moment. This is a kiss of pure love.

It doesn’t last as long as either of you wish it would, but both of your lungs need air, so he pulls away first, pressing his forehead against yours, noses touching. His arm snakes around your back, gripping your waist and lifting your chest up to him slightly. 

“You love me?” You hum your response against his lips that now refuse to be away from yours for longer than two seconds. “Baby, Sparkles, y/n, I fucking love you so goddamn much. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

You both grin into the kiss, teeth clashing together before he moves down to the nook of your neck. Kissing your skin, whispering his love for you over and over, the fingers on your waist digging into your skin as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

After a few moments, you hear him mumbling into your neck. When you ask him to repeat he takes another second, placing another kiss where he’d previously marked, then lifts his face to yours. 

“Fuck me.”

You stare up at him, unsure of what to do next. 

“Are you sure? You just said you weren’t ready for that yet, Kookie.” He slowly nods, kissing your forehead. 

“I wasn’t earlier. Now it’s all I want. I want you to get that strapless toy out of your damn box and I want you to rail me until I fall apart for you.” He smiles through his words, leaning back down to your ear. “I want to fall apart for the woman I love. Will you let me?”

You have no idea where you got the strength, or if he just let you, but you push him off you to lay on his back as you straddle him, pinning his arms above his head. 

“I need you to tell me again that this is what you want. That you’re not doing it just because I said I love you. But because you actually want to me to fuck you.” Your eyes dart between his, checking for any sign of doubt. 

The smile you’re met with is enough to make your heart melt. 

“Y/n? This is what I want. It’s not because you love me. It’s because I love and trust you. I want you to fuck me like I just fucked you.” His voice is steady and you don’t see any glimmer of hesitation or fear in his eyes, just love. So you nod, giving him a quick kiss before hopping off him and grabbing the strapless dildo he had once been confused by. 

You take it to the bathroom to clean it up and grab the lube before sitting in front of him, tapping his thigh and prompting him to lift his legs and spread them for you. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, Jungkook, I swear. This view is…only for me,” you smirk, running a hand up his inner thigh, palming his cock once and moving down to the plug, pushing it a little further to make him wince. 

“Fuck yes, baby. Only for you.” He watches you play with the plug before slowly pulling it out, squirming and trying not to run away from your teasing. 

You grab the bullet vibrator, placing it inside the little slot on the dildo and try to line it up with your entrance. 

“Let me, baby,” he whispers, sitting up to bring your hips closer to him. He takes the toy out of your hand and teases your clit a little bit before fucking it into you all in one go. You groan out his name along with a few vulgar words until you’re both confident it’s secure, moving to scoot back to between his legs when he grabs your thighs. 

“What?” You look down at the beautiful face below you. Big Bambi eyes darting between you and the synthetic cock in front of him. 

“What, you wanna suck my cock, Kookie?” You push his hair out of his face, wrapping your fingers in his hair at the crown of his head. He nods, opening his mouth and laying his tongue flat. 

“Fuck, okay,” you whisper, letting him lead you further up to him so he can wrap his mouth around the dildo. You say nothing, just watch him in awe as he sucks like his life depends on it. 

You don’t even notice one of his hands sneaking between your legs to slip two fingers in against the toy, pulling it, and you, closer to him. You yell at the feeling and the sudden jolt forward, accidentally pressing the dildo further down his throat, taking him by surprise and gagging. 

You try to pull away to let him off you, but his free hand grips your thigh, keeping you in place, and his fingers tugging you closer from inside. You whimper, eyes locked on one another, asking him if he’s okay. He just blinks slowly and pushes himself closer to you, bobbing up and down slowly. It’s once he’s got the entire thing down his throat and his nose presses against your pelvis that he uses his thumb to find the power button and turn on the vibrations. 

“FUCK!” You try backing away again, but his grip on your thigh is too strong and his fingers inside of you are pressing the toy against the your g-spot, forcing you to fuck his throat as he gags, saliva dripping from his mouth. You lean down, both hands tangled in his hair now, trying to bring yourself down to him, but you can’t stop thrusting your hips as you feel yourself coming around his fingers and the pulsing toy.

He finally lets go of your thigh and removes his fingers from you, turning the toy off as well. You pull his hair, bringing him off your cock, and you’re almost ready to come again just from the big goofy grin on his face. He has tears streaming down his face, a little bit of snot from his nose, and saliva running down his chin as his tongue continues to hang out of his mouth.  

“I knew you liked licking the toys when they were covered in my cum, but I didn’t know you were that much of a cock slut,” you laugh, brushing his hair back as he nods at you, still a little out of it. 

“But you’re just a slut for my cock, right, Kookie? My perfect, beautiful boyfriend, desperate to shove his girlfriend’s cock down his tiny little throat, gagging until he’s crying?” He finally blinks and swallows, nodding slowly.

“Your cock slut, baby. Just for you. Please, fuck me, baby. I want your cock in me.”

“The shit that comes out of that dirty mouth, I swear to God, Kookie. Should get another cock to stuff in there while I fuck you,” you chuckle, pulling his head back again to kiss him. 

“I’ll look into a good one,” he rasps with a grin, laying back down as you back up, resting between his legs again, letting them rest on either side of you. 

You squeeze some lube over the dildo, making sure it’s properly covered before adding a little extra to his hole, stretching him a little more with your fingers first. You look up at him again for one last ask of permission. He grins, teeth playing with his lip ring, and you nod, silently laughing to yourself as you press the head against his waiting hole. He closes his eyes and leans back onto the bed. 

The moans that come from the man you just confessed your love to are music to your ears. If you could make them your ringtone, you would. If it could be your theme song, it would be. There’s no other sound like the sounds he makes because of the pleasure you give him. 

You take your time pushing it all the way in, having to make small thrusts every now and again and adding a little extra lube to make sure he’s comfortable. Your eyes keep darting between the strap easing in, his erection swelling, and the fucked out expression on his face. When his eyes open, meeting yours, that’s all you need to push forward and have your hips meet his ass, the strap fully inside. 

“Baby, it feels so good, please move. Fuck me. Don’t be gentle.” 

“You don’t want it to be gentle? You want it rough? Like you are with me?” You tease, using your hips to pull out of him ever so slowly, just leaving the tip inside. You lean over him, one hand intertwined with his to hold you up, the other sliding up his torso, scraping his abs and around his pecs before wrapping around his throat.

“You want me to ruin you like you ruin me every night, Kookie? Wanna be edged and denied orgasm after orgasm until you see stars and feel like you’re going to combust? Begging and crying to be allowed to come all over my cock? Is that what you want?”

He nods and you shake your head, gripping tighter. “Words, Kookie.”

“Yes. Fucking yes.”

“If you insist…” You trail off, feigning disinterest as you slam your hips back to his, thrusting the strap as deep and as hard as you can. The vibrations are barely noticeable now, something you disliked about the toy the first time you used it. Once it was in him, it was a lot lighter. But this time, you think it might actually come in handy in playing with him. 

You let go of his throat and his hand, sitting up straight to grab a pillow and lifting his hips to stuff it under him, giving you a much better angle. You grip his hips and just go for it, picking up the pace and making sure each thrust goes as far in as it can, rolling your hips to ensure it does each time. One of his hands reaches down for his cock, hoping to give himself some relief. You smirk, smacking his hand away.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Kookie. But you’re not coming yet. You let me know when you’re close though, alright?” He nods and you take that opportunity to spank him harder than before.

“Words,” you hiss after a specific thrust causes the vibrations to hit your clit.

“I’ll tell you when I’m close, baby. I- fuck, I promise.” 

“Good. Fuck, Kookie, I wish you could see- ” You stop mid-sentence and look around your room, thrusts continuing, but at a slower pace, until you land on it. “Hold on, babe.” You pull out of him, not even trying to hide the smile you make when he cries out.

You hop off the bed, scurrying towards your full length mirror, dragging it to be at the foot of your bed. You tap Jungkook’s leg, telling him to move so you can lean against the headboard. 

“Ride me. Face the mirror, ride me, and watch my cock fill you up, Kookie.” 

He looks somewhat hesitant, not sure if he could actually ride you or not, but you look so gorgeous, sitting there waiting for him, he has no real choice but to crawl back onto the bed. He rests his feet flat next to your knees and his hands on the bed beside you, leaning back so he can see himself position above you. You apply a little more lube to the dildo and help him ease it back in, making sure he was watching the entire time.

“Fuck, did you see, Kookie? Did you see your ass swallow it up?”

“Yes, I saw,” he mutters in between pants. He leans his head back onto your shoulder like he did earlier when it was just the plug, and you kiss his temple.

“Get to work, baby. Watch as you fuck yourself on my cock.” He whines, lifting his head back up to keep his eyes on the mirror as he slowly lifts above you before slamming back down over and over again, his rhythm getting better and better, driving the both of you insane. 

“Ugh, fuck, I’m close, baby. I’m close.”

You almost forget he’s watching you both in the mirror, so he doesn’t miss the sinister smile you have at the warning of his incoming orgasm. His face drops a little. He knows what you’re about to say. 

“Do it, Kookie. Be a good boy and stop your orgasm. But don’t you dare stop fucking yourself.” You grin at him through the mirror and he looks down at his cock, leaking precum and ready to burst. He mumbles various curse words as he begins the process, wrapping his index finger and thumb around the base. He moves his other hand down to grasp his balls, but you reach around to wrap your hand around his throat, making him stop all movements.

“Did I say to stop watching yourself?”

He lets out a whine of frustration, catching his breath before he resumes, eyes locked on his actions in the mirror. You’ve watched him edge himself a few times now, and every time you swear it’s the hottest thing you’d ever seen. But this? Him riding you with your hand around his throat, watching in the mirror while edging himself? That is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Such a good boy, Kookie. You’re doing so well.” 

You’re not sure if he can even hear you, but you assume he did because you can faintly hear him mumble “I’m a good boy” under his breath. 

You watch him, too focused on denying himself to acknowledge your hand slipping under him, finding the button to increase the vibration and pressing it twice the second you hear the groan confirming he stopped his orgasm. 

“Uhhhggguuuuuhhhhh. Baby, please. I can’t.” He’s crying, his breath ragged, his body shaking, and you decide to finally be nice. 

“Stand up, Kookie,” you murmur, raking your hand in his hair again, tugging it a little to make him moan. He leans forward, whimpering as he lets the strap slip out of him, and slowly moves to stand up. You turn off the toy, pulling it out of you, briefly admiring both your cum and arousal mixed with his cum from earlier covering it. You toss it aside and crawl across the bed, sitting in front of him as he desperately tries not to touch himself since he technically hasn’t been told he could yet.

“You have two options, Kookie. You can only come inside me, either like you usually do or my mouth. Which do you want, baby?” 

You keep your eyes trained on him, but your peripheral tells you he’s having a hard time not touching himself, so you relieve him of that frustration, slowly pumping him while he considers his options.

“Mouth.”

“Yeah? Wanna come down my throat?” You grin up at him, starting to move off the bed when he stops you.

“Lay on your back, head over the edge.” You raise an eyebrow up at him.

“My fun over now?” You pout, doing as he says anyway. He nods, brows pinched together, taking over for your hand on his cock. 

You lay back, dangle your head over the edge, and open your mouth wide. He lets his suffering erection smack against your face once or twice before he shoves his dick down your throat, too impatient to care about your gag reflex. But you don’t mind, you steady your breathing through your nose and let him abuse your throat with small but deadly thrusts. It’s not even a full minute later before he growls under his breath that he’s coming and two seconds later, buries his cock as far down your throat as you can take it. He comes like he hasn’t in weeks, coating your throat in the delicious bitter taste. 

He pulls out and slumps forward onto the bed, exhausted. You smile, sitting up and rubbing his back, clearing your throat a few times before speaking in a raspy voice.

“You okay, babe? Too much?” He rolls over, turning his head to face you and softly smiles. 

“No, baby. It was perfect.” You grin, moving some of his hair out of his face. “I love you.” 

“Mmmm. I guess I love you, too,” you chuckle and his nose scrunches up. “I’m going to clean myself up really quick. Wanna take a bath after? I’ve got some bath bombs and bubble bars from Lush. Even a melt thing. I’m not really sure what it is, but it looked cool.” You both laugh, but he nods and whispers a ‘yes please’ before closing his eyes, trying to relax. You lean over and kiss his cheek, hopping off the bed and heading into the bathroom to clean up.

Jungkook is almost fully asleep when you emerge from the bathroom and whisper in his ear that it’s time to get up. You come out with a wet towel and offer to help clean him up, but he says no and quickly does it himself before following you into the bathroom where his mouth drops.

There are candles carefully placed everywhere, one of those mood lights dimly lit, and there’s soft music playing in the background.

“What the…?” He looks around in confusion, jumping slightly when your hands meet his waist and your voice is near his ear.

“You always do the aftercare after ruining me. My turn. Let me take care of you, Jungkook.” He turns to face you, and you’re grinning ear to ear, arms wrapped around him, standing on your tippy toes. 

“Okay. Aftercare it up, baby.” He kisses your forehead when you return to normal height and watches as you skip to the bathtub, turning it on and finding the right temperature, letting it fill up. 

“I got these as a joke for me. But since you let me have fun with you today, I think you deserve them more.” You break out a bath melt and toss it into the tub, not really knowing if you were supposed to do anything else. It’s not important. You break out the bath bomb shaped like a butt shaped peach and let him smell it first before dropping it in. Finally you break out the peach crumble bubble bath, once again letting him sniff it before tossing it in under the water faucet. 

You both watch as the colors swirl around, the melt completely melted, and the bubbles growing bigger, covering the beautiful colors from the bath bomb. You turn off the water and help Jungkook get in first, slipping in behind him once he’s a little settled. 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way?” He laughs as you pull him back against your chest, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“No. You’re the one being cared for, therefore I’m the big spoon. Accept my loving care and stop asking questions.”

It’s silent for a moment before you’re both giggling. He winces a little when he tries to find a better seat, deciding instead to roll over and tug you down a little. It’s only enough that your head and the top half of your breasts are above the water. He maneuvers you both around until he’s found a more comfortable spot on his stomach, resting his head on your chest near your shoulder, facing your neck.  

“Better?” You rake your fingers through his hair again, silently thanking whatever gods exist for him not cutting it since you got together. You love grabbing it and playing with it, and he just looks so damn good with long hair. He nods into your neck, kissing whatever skin he has access to. 

“Good. You did so good, Kookie. I’m proud of you,” you whisper, and you don’t even need to look at him to know he’s grinning. 

“You did good, too, baby. I see what that guy meant by top three and made you brownies.”

“So you agree I didn’t fuck a guy for brownies, I just fucked a guy so good that he made me brownies?”

A full body laugh, muffled by your skin as he buries his face into your neck before pulling back. 

“No. You absolutely fucked a guy for brownies.” 

“Fuck you.”

“You did like almost an hour ago. It was great. Ten out of ten would get fucked again.” He snorts when you glare down at him, bringing himself up to kiss you, wrapping his hands around the back of your neck. 

“I love you, Sparkles. Thank you for this.” His whispers land on top of your lips and you can only find yourself mumbling your love for him back. 

The rest of Sunday is spent like this. In the tub, rinsing off the damn sparkles from the bath bomb in the shower, having a little spa evening with face masks and massages for each other. With work the next day, it meant no more intense fun time, and you’d be lying if you weren’t a little bummed, because now you had to actually clean up after your sexapades. Two loads of laundry, both of you cleaning the toys, wiping down the island counter and throwing away the take out boxes. When it was finally time to sleep, you both passed out in the freshly cleaned sheets. 

When you wake up the next morning, Jungkook is gone for the day, out training with Taehyung. You slowly go about your morning, brushing your teeth before dragging yourself to the kitchen where you’re caught off guard by a box on the counter. There’s a mini balloon attached that says Thank You! You grab the little post-it note on top and laugh out loud, opening the box to see six individual brownies. 

I can’t bake to save my life. But I can walk to a bakery. Thanks for the sex. Xx

Thank you for reading if you did. It’d mean the world if you reblogged or let me know what you think. 💜

[www-findringo-com]

From Afar

Yuno Grinberryall x Fem!reader

I'm unsure if i should have a specific banner for my series or my stories in general or if i should change it each time, tell me what you think!

cw - unchecked

Plot: Y/N Hanabi is a commoner who has always hated her fireworks magic even though the townsfolk have always praised her. As she grew up, a woman in her life changed her view completely, making her appreciate and slowly understand her "silly" magic.

Even if she started using her magic more, she had no interest in joining the magic knights, and yet during the elves' reincarnation, she helped save the people of the Clover Kingdom. This resulted in the Sorcery King noticing her and convincing her to join the knights, which, after many rejections, she. In the end. Took on the request and participated in the entrance exam a year after getting her grimoire. Once she joined the Blue Rose Knights, something or more like someone was going to completely change ,what once was, her daily routine.

Previous

Ever since I got my grimoire, it's almost as if life at the hostel got busier. I wouldn't exactly be mad about it because it means we're getting more and more clients, but it also means I have to use my magic all the time! But on the bright side, Serene always visited us and helped out a lot. She was the self-proclaimed Paladin of Justice for us commoners. Soon, she became known in my town, and people always asked me when she was going to be back. What a pain... But deep inside, it made me happy to know people liked my friend

"Y/N, darling, could you please go serve out the dishes?" My mom shouted from across the hall. It did sound like a question but if I even dared to refuse I would have been in trouble. I ran to the kitchen since the guest had been waiting for about twenty minutes. As soon as I opened the kitchen door a nervy comment hit my face: "Look who finally decided to stop sitting on their ass and help out!" My cousin spoke. He was the most annoying guy in the whole universe. And, if we weren't family, I would have already beat him up.

"Yeah yeah I'm here. Now give me those dishes before the guests get mad" I commented back and he gave me a snarky smile before handing me about four plates to bring out.

That afternoon I was sweeping the lobby when a shadow towered over my figure. Right after some water was splashed on the floor I had been cleaning for the past hour. "Whoops~" I turned around to be met by a woman, dressed in noble clothes and with the wrinkliest face I had ever seen. On her ugly wrinkly face sat a smirk as she fake apologized for 'accidentally', spilling her water magic on the floor. I was about to lash out on her due to my terrible customer service. But I was soon stopped by an angry voice at the entrance. "Excuse me, Miss. But who do you think you are?" We both turned around stunned, and I was met by none other than Serene. Paladin of justice for us commoners, I guess. The breath of the noble lady hitched, and she fought back: "And who might you be? Let me guess, a lowly peasant. '' She chuckled and looked at Serene funny. "And what if I am? What does that mean to you? That you're a high-level person but lowly scum in the eyes of righteousness? In a world where you can be better than most and be seen as a beautiful person, you chose to be part of the mass and just follow like a wet dog the orders of someone else? People like you are bland, stale, and boring. You're the reason why this kingdom is fucked up" The lady was left shook and speechless. After a bit she grunted and stormed off, letting Serene a clear path to me.

"How's it going, Y/N? D'ya miss me?" She chuckled and extended her arms as if she expected a hug. I laughed lightly and hugged her : "I really really missed you!" We talked for a bit before my father came up to me. "Oh, Y/N, didn't know you had friends coming over!" He greeted Serene. She shook his hand. They chatted for a few minutes but then he spoke to me: "Y/N why don't you go hang out with your friend for a while? we're not having any rushes right now, so feel free to go!" I thanked him before putting away my uniform and quickly reaching Serene. She put out her hand and as soon as I held it, she ran out the door and we started running through town! "Serene slow down. I'm gonna fall!" I shouted at her, to which she just laughed and brought me closer to her.

"Jump," She whispered to me, and I did. Immediately under us formed a sort of cotton cloud, which she used to make us move even faster. "Where are we going?" I asked as the wind hit my face, making me blink. "To the capital silly." She spoke softly as we flew up into the air, and I took in the look of a huge fortified city with a castle slightly taller than the rest of the city. I was in awe at the sight. It wasn't as picturesque as the one from the grimoire acceptance ceremony, but it was still beautiful. I could tell it was a very busy and packed city, even people in brooms were flying to it! Once we landed, I noticed that the city was even more packed and busy than I expected. People were coming from all over, well, mostly kids our age. Serene brought me to a food stand, and she had me try a fried salamander on a stick. The salamander was crunchy and oddly sweet, and then she made me try roaster purple viper, and it was very dry and stale. I hated it!

After an hour or more of going around, I stopped when a huge tree towered over an arena at the center of the city. Serene took a step back before emitting a shocked sound and putting her hand over her mouth. "Oops- I almost forgot why we're here." And at that point, I looked at her in confusion. Once again, she took my arm, and before running, she whispered and winked to me. "Don't worry, you just gotta be quiet," She ordered as she put a finger over her mouth. Right after we started running and she brought me to an entrance at the back of the arena I noticed a few minutes ago. We walked in, and inside were all the kids our age I had seen a few hours prior. "Serene, what is this?" I questioned her as i followed her steps through the round corridor. "This is the Magic Knights entrance exam!" I let out a confused sound before starting to get nervous. "Can we actually be here? Isn't it supposed to be closed off to the public? What if someone catches us? What if not just someone but a Magic Knight Captain?" I was sweating, not because it was July, but because I was scared. Serene was very Nonchalant about it, as if sneaking to the exam was normal to her. "Oh, don't worry, it's going to be fine!" She stopped and brought her arms on top of the stone fencing, which ensured people from not falling off, and on one hand, she rested her chin. Without thinking, I got right next to her and started watching the exam, and then a light clicked in my head. "Serene, look!" I pointed upwards since they were flying around on brooms. "That's the four leaf guy we met at the acceptance ceremony." She faced towards where i was pointing and chuckled. "Didn't know people could be so good at flying on their first time! He must be a very irritating prick. " I giggled with her. Even though of the annoying personality he showed at the ceremony, i just couldn't help but find something about him... Cool? As if he was acting cool just for me to look at him... Oh god what the fuck that is very desperate of me. Wow.

Serene and I kept chatting and having fun when, how I predicted, someone caught us. "Excuse me." We both worriedly turned around to face the stern and serious voice, only to be met by a golden mask with pom poms at the back. On further inspection, the guy was wearing a cape, and on it was the Golden Dawn's logo. For context the Golden Dawn is like the strongest Magic Knight company in the whole kingdom, being composed mostly of high-level nobles with lots of mana and an extremely overpowered captain. Wait a second... THAT WAS THE CAPTAIN WILLIAM VANGEANCE! I could feel my face go pale, and my legs shivered at the thought of being scolded and insulted by a high-lever knight... Before I could try to explain myself, the captain spoke.

"Your Gracefulness Princess Temima, What are you doing here?”

Huh... Princess... What?

Wait, why is he looking deep in Serene's eyes?

…

IS SERENE A PRINCESS???

I stood there shaking when Serene spoke up. "Who the hell is this Princess Temima cause I have never heard a name so stupid. Are you pranking us, you... Masked buffoon? Either way, now if you don't keep bothering us, my friend and I will go away. Please and thank you." She spoke sternly, almost pissed at him. Then she took my hand and we ran out of there as soon as possible. Once we were out, we were out of breath, and before I could ask anything to Serene, she spoke. "I think It's time I bring you home." Oh yeah, she was mad. I think that Captain really irked something in her. Without objection, I let her bring me home, and ever since then, I didn't see her again.

Timeskip few months

That evening, I was grocery shopping with my mom. Lately, I have been a little more upset than usual, so my family tried to get me out as much as possible. "Y/N dear, could you please go pick these things?" She handed me a small piece of paper, and I went on my merry way. Shopping was boring, I saw these people almost every day, and I did the same things every week. I just couldn't take it anymore. My life had become boring, plain, and stale like a piece of dry bread. I was mad at Serene for not showing up again. Not only that, but the fact she disappeared after someone high-ranked called her princess, which made her even more suspicious. If she really was a princess, why would she need to hide it? She's so lucky to be blessed with nobility and so cool to be royal yet help out commoners and peasants. Also, didn't that Vangeance guy call her Temima? Yet I've always known her as Serene, and I was supposedly her best friend! Ugh, she's so weird and difficult. It took me some time to finish getting the groceries before trying to find my mom. It was getting dark and kind of cold when suddenly the whole market heard something break and people screaming. I started coughing, and when I turned around, there was smoke coming from around the corner. The fire started spreading, and people started running. That's when I noticed that they weren't running away from the fire yet from something... Who could be attacking a common town? Without a second thought, I brought out my grimoire. "Firework Magic: Crossettes of Purity!"

I shouted, and from my hands, I shot 2 fireworks which ended in a cross, hence the name crossette, and the two fireworks collided and landed on whatever was attacking us, leaving it stunned. I then shot fire under my feet to launch me near the spot of the stunned foe. Once I landed, and the smoke went away, I was met with the disgusting and maggot filled rotting body of my old neighbor, an ex magic knight. Before I could do anything, the guy got back up again, and as I took in the look of the decaying corpse, something behind peaked my attention. I moved my eyes slightly only to be met by an army of un-dead people and lots of fire around us.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On!”

And this was the second chapter!!! Sadly, I didn't have much inspiration for this, and maybe even for the next pair of chapters, they might be very, very boring, so please be patient with me! I tried to prep some angst between MC and Serene. i wonder if it'll be good! Let me know what you think and leave suggestions or even writing requests if you enjoy my style! see you next week with the next From Afar chapter!!!

-Ringo

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - four

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: cursing, violence, weapons

word count: 3k

A/N: Bucky gets darker the next few parts so I’m warning y’all now and no one gets surprised. I’ll add a ⚠️Dark!Mob!Bucky⚠️warning in the parings as well as the warnings.

three | series masterlist

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

John is sewing up Victoria’s hand as she grimaces and swallows the entire bottle of Vodka in one gulp. Niklaus, on the other hand, is frantically pacing the room, wearing ruts into the floor. John tries to get him to stop or slow down even but he refuses. 

“We’re fucked, absolutely fucked,” he mummers under his breath. 

Victoria practically growls as John pulls at the stitches to tie them off before snapping at her brother, “Of course we are. We let that bastard take Y/N.”

John looks to Niklaus nervously and then back to Victoria. 

“Oh my god, what did you two idiots do?” “Nothing, we did nothing,” Niklaus snaps back at her. 

“No, you did something. Tell me or I’ll throw you both through the window.”

John spills almost instantly, “Klaus made a deal with him last year.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shrieks. 

Niklaus rushes over to her and quickly puts his hand over her mouth to silence her, “Shut up for the love of god. I’ll tell you if you promise to not say anything. Brock is literally down the hall.”

She nods and he starts in with the tale of how he might have royally fucked up. 

About a year and half ago, Brock caught him and another man together and beat Niklaus to a pulp. He had been laid up in the hospital for weeks and needed routine visits afterward from the injuries he sustained. In addition to being beaten within an inch of his life, Brock had threatened to kill them if he ever caught them again. That had been the final nail in the coffin for Niklaus; after years of enduring the torture that his father put him and his siblings through, he made the decision to get rid of him once and for all.

The most natural choice was the White Wolf.

He was feared across the East Coast and was gaining power rapidly. He threatened Brock’s authority in New York and it made him nervous, sketchy, and scared. Niklaus arranged a meeting with Steve, his community liaison, and set the plan in motion however it all crumbled when Brock caught wind of a rat amongst his ranks. He had Niklaus and John execute too many innocent men and he even made a move on the White Wolf’s men. He’d murdered Tony Stark, one of the White Wolf’s close friends and advisors, setting forth a domino effect of violence. He retailed as one would and with Y/N being dragged back in, it complicated things. Niklaus tried to uncomplicate it and remove her from the equation with the planned ambush at the party but he never expected that she would willingly take the deal. Hoping that she was still the stubborn teen she had been, he’d hoped that the White Wolf would have to take her against her will and keep her locked away until it was all over with. 

“You are the biggest idiot I have ever met,” Victoria says with an equal amount of shock and annoyance, “Why didn’t tell me before? I could’ve helped you plan something better.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt if it all went south. I figured I could take the brunt of it while John got you to safety.”

Victoria scoffs, “So a suicide mission?”

“No.”

“Yes! You know him better than anyone. He will tear you apart limb by limb, sew you back up and do it again until he gets bored. And even then he’ll find a new way to entertain himself.”

John makes a disgruntled noise at all of her moving and says, “But if Brock’s dead, it’s all worth it.”

“No it isn’t John! You’ve been friends since birth practically and you’re seriously suggesting that him being dead is for the best? Klaus,” she pleads with her brother, “we have to find another way. Call him and find another way. Please, I can’t lose you.”

“There’s no other way. Either the White Wolf kills Brock before he can get to me or I try my hand at it and our father kills me.”

Her eyebrows furrow in pain and sadness as John finishes her hand. The moment he’s done she leaps up and wraps her arms around her brother.

Niklaus grips her back tightly ad if he’s afraid she’ll disappear into thin air and buries his face in her hair.

“You better hope Y/N figured out a better plan.”

He nods against her head.

“I love you, Klaus.”

“I love you too.”

Brock loves to incite fear in everyone around him whether that be with his voice or a violence. He craves to make all those in the same room as him fear for their lives if they so much as breathed wrong and that is especially true with his children. He lives to see the terror that lives in their eyes when they see him or how their bodies go rigid when he walks past them. He wants to see them shutter when he walks too close to them. He wants them to hold their breath until he leaves. He wants them and everyone else to walk on eggshells when he is around. He wants them to fear him in every sense of the word. 

Victoria’s small sniffles piss him off to no degree and he backhands her hard enough that she falls to the ground. Niklaus, ever the loyal son, only flinches at the sound of the impact and does nothing to help his sister. He knows that if he even so much as moved a muscle, he would be next. 

“Can someone please explain to me how the fuck you let that bastard take Y/N?” he growls at them as he rubs the bridge of his nose. 

Victoria climbs to her feet and with hit tears pooling in her eyes, she matches his anger, sneering back at him, “He knew we were going to be there. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“You had Y/N. You had every advantage I could’ve given you but somehow you two still fucked it up and killed her in the process.”

Niklaus risks his head and speaks, “She’s not dead. He took her hostage.”

Brock marches up to his son and grips his face in one bone crushing hand as he says, “That’s even worse. He can use her to get to me.”

“Y/N won’t give you up no matter how much she hates you. She wouldn’t risk Victoria and I getting hurt,” Niklaus scoffs and jerks his head away. 

In a flash, Brock whips out a pistol and pushes against his forehead, “You’re useless, you know that? I’ve done nothing but provide for you and give you everything you could ever want. Still you fuck up and prove to me that you’re only ever going to be a thorn in my side. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in you and Victoria.”

Victoria makes a startled gasp and lunges at her brother in efforts to push the gun away but John grabs her and holds one of his own to her temple. She whispers insults under her breath and curses him for being “a fucking traitor and a bastard.” Niklaus looks at her for guidance because he’s a loss for words. There’s nothing he could say that wouldn’t get someone hurt. She shakes her head as much as she can, urging him to not say anything. The one piece of information he can give their father to save them would end with Y/N’s head on a platter but it’s all he has to offer.

“Nik please,” she whispers with even more tears in her eyes. 

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Nik you always have a choice. Don’t do this please. Él la matará.”

He will kill her.

“Don’t speak that shit in my house,” Brock growls at her, “Try again and this time peak English.”

She pleads with her brother again in Spanish, earning another growl but with the gun against both of their heads, he has to do something. Giving away himself would ruin any chance at catching Brock off guard in the future so he goes the only thing he can.

Niklaus tears his eyes away and locks eyes with his father as he utters Y/N’s death sentence, “She made a deal with him; in exchange for our lives, she helps him kill you.”

“Is that so?” Brock asks, cocking his head in amusement before turning to look at Victoria, “I think I might have to send a message to that brat if that’s the case.” One shot. 

And a body drops. 

Steve chooses to grab Y/N by her hair this time, keeping his hand wrapped in her braid so that he has complete control of her. The White Wolf gives him a disapproving look but doesn’t say anything as they walk into a looming and dark house. Matching the exterior, the house is black and sleek with no hint of personality anywhere to be found. It looks very much like a house that a mob boss would buy to launder his money and she assumes that this is the case. 

“Stop gawking,” Steve tells her with a harsh tug of her hair and she hisses at the pain. The White Wolf looks back and motions for Steve to bring her forward. 

Taking her arm in his like a pretend gentleman, he explains that until Brock is dead, she will be staying with him. She’s not to leave and if she does, she needs to have explicit permission from him and a security detail will go with her. Steve smirks when her eyes flicker over to him, indicating that he will be the spearhead of that detail. The White Wolf saying her name brings her attention back to him and continues to explain that the house is hers, she has free reign as long as she stays within its walls. He stops them at a door at the end of a hallway, “This is my office…”

She interrupts him, “And it’s off limits. I know the drill.”

He smiles, looking her up and down while he wets his lips, “Smart girl.”

A part of her shutters in disgust but another…. 

“How much time do you need?”

“What?” she questions, searching his face for any hint of explanation. 

“It’s been six years since you left home so I’m assuming you need some time to figure out a plan. How much time do you need?” 

“You make it seem like I left on good terms,” she mumbles, shrinking under his intense gaze. 

He chuckles, “Sorry, RAN AWAY.”

She sighs and looks around her, “He’s living in one of his old properties so I already know how to get in and out. It really depends on how quickly you can get me what I need.”

“And that is?”

“How do you want it done?” He takes a moment to think about it as he pushes open his office door and leads her inside. Steve closes the door, locking just the two of them inside. The White Wolf pours both of them a glass of whiskey and hands one to her before taking a seat on a massive leather couch. However with him and his overwhelming presence on it, it looks child sized. He motions for her to sit in a chair across from him and she hestiants but he insists. 

“That’s up to you, little snake. You want him to suffer, right?” he asks as he takes a sip, wincing at the blissful feeling of the burn. 

“Don’t turn this on me,” she pauses, realizing that she only knows him by his alias,  “I don’t know your name.”

“My name?” “That’s what I just said.”

He narrows his eyes at her before giving her the answer she seeks, “James.”

“Don’t turn this on me, JAMES. It’s not about what I want, this is about your little fight with him,” she snarks at him, “The only reason why I’m involved is because of opportunity. You saw a chance to get back at him for whatever reason and preyed on me because of my past with him.”

James reclines in his seat, allowing himself to enjoy her anger and admire her in the process. 

“Did he tell you what this is all about?”

“No but I don’t exactly care either. All men have an ego the size of the sun and turn to violence when it gets bruised.”

He chokes on his drink at her appraisal but agrees nonetheless, “Fair enough. So what do you need?”

“I’ll need a Beretta M9A4 with a silencer, an M4, and a set of knives.”

“Strange list, anything else?”

“A getaway car and a driver.”

“I’ll have Sam do it.”

“Hm,” she stops him after taking a sip of her drink, “No, I don’t trust him.”

“I really don’t think trust should be something you’re worrying about right now.”

Y/N slips her heels off and draws her legs onto the chair with her, getting as comfortable as she can to level a bored look at him. James takes in her form as she’s curled into herself and he wets his lips with his tongue. 

“Who do you want then?” 

“Steve.”

A beat passes. 

“Or you.”

He questions her with a smirk as he slides through down into the leather couch. He’s lounging at this point, completely ignoring the fact they’re discussing murder. 

“Me?”

“I don’t trust any of your men and most certainly not you but you wouldn’t do anything to put me in harm’s way if you’re involved.”

His phone rings and he picks it up, eyes never leaving hers, “Hello?”

She can’t make out what the other person is saying but she can tell they’re frantic. James lets out an annoyed sigh and closes his eyes as his head hits the back of the couch, mumbling along as the person on the other side rambles on and on. His attention being off of her gives her the opportunity to really look at him. 

Eyes taking over him, Y/N takes in the way his midnight blue suit compliments his eyes and how his white shirt underneath is unbuttoned in an absurdly attractive manner. Just under his suit jacket is a hint of leather, a holster she assumes given what little she knows of him.  

“He’s not going to do anything and even if he did, I have people close by.”

The sheer dismissive tone brings her back to his face where she locks eyes with him. He must have lifted his head when she wasn’t looking and was most certainly watching her checking him out. She finishes the rest of her drink and sets the empty glass on the coffee table between them. 

“Încetează. Seriously calm down and use your brain, Klaus. He’s not going to do anything stupid. If he did, he would ruin any chance of survival he has. ”

She gives him a questioning look and he winks at her instead of explaining.

When he hangs up, she immediately jumps into her line of questions to which he explains that her brother has been working with him for some time now. 

“Klaus? As in my brother Niklaus? He’s helping you?”

“He came to me last year and asked if I would help him with… some business.”

“Why did you make a deal with me if you already had one with my brother?”

“It never hurts to have multiple options.”

She groans in frustration and rubs at her temples. Of course she would’ve been suckered into some farce of a deal by a shady businessman. The temptation to throw something at him becomes too strong and she hurls one of her heels at him. It misses and clatters to the ground behind him to which he chuckles at and gets to his feet. His shoes scuffle the floor as he pours himself another glass. Rather than sitting back in his original place, James rounds the coffee table and sits in front of her on it. 

“Brock would see it coming if I had Klaus do it regardless of how good your brother thinks he is. You, on the other hand,” he starts, pointing at her, “are the perfect option. He still has hope that you’ll find it in your heart to love daddy again so you still have a chance to gain his trust hence why I brought you here. Taking you away from him builds the tension, makes him sweat, makes him vulnerable and reckless. It puts him in the perfect position for me to release you back to him and boom my Rumlow problem is gone.”

“You still haven’t told me what he did.”

James leans forward so he’s invading her space, “It didn’t seem important a minute ago.”

Y/N matches him and leans forward too, “Well it is now. What did he do?”

“He killed a very good friend of mine.”

“You have friends?” She laughs at him and before she can stop him, he grips her braid again and pulls her off the chair and onto the ground before him. 

He yanks her towards him and whispers in her ear, “Learn when to stop, little snake. It’s unbecoming of you.” 

She glares him with all the hatred she feels for men like him but it flatters when his eyes flicker from hers to her lips parted due to the pain in her scalp.

"You look good on your knees for me," he lets spill out before releasing her.

She knows that he meant for it to come out but nonetheless she throws herself back as far as she can to get away from him. James, the flirty and seemingly harmless man is gone and in his place the White Wolf reemerges. He smirks at her desperate attempt to put space between them and winks at her again, this time making her body revolt at the gesture. Standing, he leaves the room without another word to her. 

Whatever safety and trust she hoped to gain tonight is gone the moment he closes that door. 

She’s alone. 

Completely and utterly alone.