#your life is falling apart. I need a tag for my life is crumbling. I am the only one who can step up and fix this. I am going to mess thisup

[rowarn]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

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It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all. 

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn. 

You were going to need a lot more alcohol. 

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust. 

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them. 

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man. 

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?” 

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you. 

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?” 

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that. 

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way. 

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat. 

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.” 

He chuckles, “You caught me.” 

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.” 

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?” 

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.” 

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?” 

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!” 

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up. 

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body. 

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom. 

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night. 

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point. 

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to. 

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent. 

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new. 

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere. 

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet. 

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips. 

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat. 

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you. 

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him. 

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now. 

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in. 

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth. 

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet. 

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his. 

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table. 

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy. 

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something. 

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from. 

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom. 

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man. 

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too. 

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless. 

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you. 

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly. 

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss. 

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter. 

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his. 

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often. 

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108. 

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved. 

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you. 

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings. 

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them. 

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes. 

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating. 

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming. 

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss. 

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze. 

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. 

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released. 

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him. 

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm. 

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips. 

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you. 

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch. 

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs. 

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit. 

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention. 

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in. 

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment. 

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.” 

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock. 

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger. 

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle. 

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.” 

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you. 

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water. 

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy. 

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob. 

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure. 

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut. 

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get. 

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare. 

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up. 

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.” 

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release. 

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside. 

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip. 

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper. 

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over. 

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit. 

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes. 

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.” 

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back. 

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases. 

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down. 

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face. 

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in. 

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time. 

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys. 

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it. 

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine. 

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you. 

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much. 

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. 

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm. 

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop. 

After a few, long seconds, he feels it. 

Fuck, does he feel it. 

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears. 

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you. 

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you. 

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt. 

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap. 

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body. 

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face. 

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him. 

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you. 

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again. 

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following. 

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip. 

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time. 

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you. 

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him. 

“Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions. 

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it. 

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit. 

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come. 

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort. 

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure. 

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest. 

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past. 

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt. 

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing. 

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles. 

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft. 

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight. 

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it. 

The sight is so fucking filthy. 

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. 

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up. 

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him. 

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response. 

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle. 

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch. 

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please. 

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt. 

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place. 

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is. 

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure. 

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it. 

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole. 

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently. 

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue. 

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again. 

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is. 

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again. 

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you. 

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper. 

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it. 

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you. 

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long. 

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit. 

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end. 

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing. 

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in. 

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself. 

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move. 

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him. 

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

[pichichuu]

i loved ur jinu abby threesome omfg

could we have abs riding with abby 🙈

omg thank you heheh 🫣 im gonna be honest i didn't see the appeal to this at first and i talked to one of my friends about it and now it's a need omg

anon you have a beautiful mind...

and yes i think im a comedian for this title

m.list

Rise & Grind

abby saja x reader, mdni!

tags: fem reader, a little somnophilia (he wakes up right after you do), grinding, mutual mast., use of 'girl', gentle dom abby, cumshot, praise, teasing

dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

the morning's soft sunlight filtered through your curtains, bringing the room slowly to life. your heavy eyelids blinked awake, not yet aware of the aching between your thighs, residual from a dream.

coming into consciousness, you find yourself draped across a dozing abby, barely still asleep. your thigh is splayed across his lower torso, most of your leg resting between his. your hips gyrate softly against the band of his boxers. you didn't even realize you were doing this.

shit.

it feels so good to relieve that tension.

dark eyebrows knit together, twitching as abby comes to life, quick to understand the situation.

"good morning to you too, pretty girl," he groans, morning voice deep and raspy and going straight to your core.

he kisses you, hands wandering to your hips. his fingertips play with the band of your panties, lifting the edges between two digits and dipping fingers underneath the fabric. reluctant to break the kiss, he breathes into your mouth,

"How did you sleep?"

he doesn't need an answer, nor does he expect one. your hips tell him enough.

"lift," he instructs you, pulling your panties to your knees when you obey him. you kick them off the bed to somewhere on the floor, keeping his loose t-shirt on.

broad palms wrap around your hips as he guides you onto his stomach, flexing his abs.

"wanna feel good, yeah? let me watch," he drags your hips along his abs, clit catching on the band of his boxers with every motion. your wetness is still building, not yet pooling onto his skin, and the friction feels delicious.

long fingers hold your plush hips in a firm grip, pushing you down against his skin. slowly, he pulls your naked pussy up his stomach, abs firm and prominent. the texture of the ridges teased your clit, the movements pulling your lips apart. your arousal spread on his muscled stomach as your lips parted in a whispered moan. your hands splayed across his chest, pinky brushing across his nipple and making him twitch.

with the addition of your slick, your gliding picked up speed, a wet squelch punctuating the end of each stroke. his grip loosened as you began to take control of your movements, head falling forward as you rubbed your soaked pussy on his muscular abs.

the cords of his muscles rippled as he sat up slightly. you could feel each movement, each twitch with your clit; the feeling was heavenly.

moving his hand from your hip, he stretched lazily with one arm. his back lifted off the bed, arm stretched out, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, typing bruises into the fatty flesh. his movements stretched his abs, your walls fluttering in response to the new sensation.

with a cocky smirk, he flicked your clit, humming as you whimpered, body starting to crumble on his.

"Thas' it, lemme hear you," he rasped, voice just above a whisper.

your juices coated his abs completely, sheets at his sides showing patches from where your wetness had rubbed off of him. with each stroke along his tensed stomach, you felt his hardening bulge against the curve of your ass. you gasped when you noticed, a hungry gaze spreading across abby's face that made you squirm.

reaching his hand behind you, he peeled his boxers down slowly, dramatically releasing it so his flushed cock hit against your ass with a smack!, the tip catching under your shirt.

you pushed back, moaning at the eroticism of the sight under you. his hand splayed across his abs, palm gathering your slick. reaching toward your face, he prodded your lips open with his middle and ring fingers with a simple "suck 'em." you took the digits into your mouth, warm tongue swirling around the pads of his fingertips, arousal and saliva coating the skin.

he pulled his hand away with a pop, hand forming a tight fist around his throbbing cock. he pumped it in slow strokes, the rhythmic movement of his arm making his abs twitch under you, pulling a breathy moan from you.

beads of precum gathered at his blushing tip, the fluid forming a sappy string from his throbbing dick to the soft fat of your ass. he smeared the tip across your skin as you rode his abs, the sensation overwhelming.

it was too much– your slick glistening on his hardened abs, rigid muscles flexing as you ground on them, his hand digging into your hip, ensuring the pressure hit your clit just right, the lewd squelch of your fluids on his cock as he fucked his fist, his hot tip sending an electric sensation across your ass.

you shimpered, hips frantically rutting on his rock-hard abs, his hand holding you firmly, stilling your hips.

"wanna cum, baby? better ask nicely," he teased, voice rough and steady.

"pl-please, please luh-let me hah- let me cum abby!" you whined, voice trembling in tune with your body, hands grabbing at his chest, trying to find something to hold onto.

moving one of your hands to his shoulder, his voice rang out like he was amused at your attempts to beg him. "not with your mouth," he grinned, moving your hips and nodding down to your weeping pussy. "I wanna hear it from her."

you tried to hide your face, ears flushing with embarassment. shakily, you drove your hips forward, spelling a 'P' on his washboard abs with the guidance of his hand.

"'atta girl."

"please, please abby," you begged, spelling an 'L' this time. "just please let me cum."

"keep being good and you will soon, he grunted through clenching teeth, hand moving in a blur on his cock, muscles twitching and rippling with each movement. his eyes were fixed on where your pussy met his stomach, cock twitching at the creamy sounds of your slick spreading across him as you spelled out an 'E'.

he bit his lip.

fuck.

look how your lips spread with each movement, folds opening and closing as you drew an 'A' on him, body twitching each time your clit caught on the mound of a new muscle.

you looked so desperate.

"almost there, pretty girl," he groaned, spitting on his hand, strokes resuming with a louder squelch this time. "lift your shirt for the 'S'," he commanded, chin tilting up in a nod at the hem of your shirt.

your hands held the fabric delicately as you lifted it above your tits, whining as the cold air hit your nipples. abby hissed. his fingers pushed tighter on your hip.

you looked pornographic drawing the curves of an 'S' on his muscular flesh, the embarassment dripping from your whimpers and body language only feeding his need.

"fuck it baby, just cum on my abs," he sighed, "already wrote an 'E' once already anyways."

his grip loosened on your hips, movements free to be as frantic and irrythmic as you desired.

"look so damn pretty riding me like that," he hissed, "can't even tease you properly when you look like this."

you shuddered as your clit caught on his happy trail, losing control of your movements as your limbs began to lock up, broken moan drawn out of your mouth.

"fuck, baby, fucking cum on me, ah!," he moaned, pace losing rhythm on his fat, leaky cock. you shook on him, release hitting you like a train. you clenched around nothing, throbbing hole flush against his abs. he felt every squeeze as you rode out your orgasm, the sensation enough to send him into his own, a needy groan filling your ears as you came down from your high.

hot, stick ropes of his cum shot across your ass in thick spurts. smearing the creamy substance across your skin, his head rolled to the side as exhaustion crept back into his voice.

"can't we stay in bed a little longer?"

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (Masterlist)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Subgenders: Omega! Reader, Beta! Yoongi, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Jimin, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Hoseok, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, Enemies to friends to lovers, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt and Comfort,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 80k so far

—  Warnings: Violence, Blood, Murder, sexual and physical abuse, PTSD, themes of healing, suspense, mute character's, depictions of eating disorders, healing, hospitals, epilepsy, assassins, spyies,

Before you read:

This is the second version of this story, it's better, edited and longer. But if you want to read the first (near complete) version of this story you can read it on tumblr here, or on Ao3 here. there's like a million words of it lol.

not everything is tagged in this version. there is quite a bit of triggering content. i go into much more greater detail about the m/c and the abuse that she suffered at the hands of Geumjae in this version. if there is anything that doesn't get a tag and you feel it needs it, please don't hesitate to tell me!

This version is a lot longer than V1, and because of that the chapters don't line up, chapters 1-13 cover chapters 1-4.

While there are only a few things that have been taken out/restructured, but yoongi and the m/c get a dedicated slow burn love story in this now. i've also added 60k to what we did have so please give this tons of love!

i will not be reblogging these parts nearly as much as the others, because i want there to be less crowdedness on my feed. i will try my hardest to respond to comments if there are any this time around.

~-~

Prologue: Omens

Summary: you watch your husband murder someone, and try not to make it worse

Part 1: The Beta

Summary: Seokjin meets Yoongi when he's at his lowest.

Part 2: The Funeral

Summary: The death of a king pin makes the whole picture come crumbling down. In 120 days, Yoongi will decide who rules the criminal empire.

Part 3: The Alpha

Summary: Seokjin meets Namjoon when things are finally getting good, will the introduction of an alpha disrupt his and yoongi's little pack?

Part 4: Of Violent Dogs

Summary: Kim Namjoon will kill. That is a fact that you can count on.

Part 5: The Pups

Summary: Namjoon meets Jungkook in the Emergency room. "he's sick Joonie, and you can't make him better." that doesn't mean he's not going to try.

Part 6: Prey Animals

Summary: A death and A dinner party (a woman that yoongi can't take his eyes off of.)

Part 7: Hoseok

Summary: Yoongi brings home a stray, but luckily he's going to stay. (Yoongi won't, Yoongi is going to leave)

Part 8: Just Not her

Summary: Yoongi cannot decide if he trusts you or not. After being followed, he interrogates you to figure out your motives.

Part 9: Ribbons

Summary: A dinner at the Moon house prompt Yoongi to get closer and closer to you. But how close can he get before he pricks his finger?

Part 10: Junk Drawers and Daydreams

Summary: Yoongi just wants to figure you out. Just that. He promises.

Part 11: Warm Monsters

Summary: Yoongi's attraction gets harder to ignore, so does your suffering.

Part 12: The After

Summary: In Yoongi's absence the pack sort of falls apart.

Part 13: Bruises and Butterflies

Summary: One life doesn't equal seven.

Part 14: City of eyes

Summary: Yoongi offers Geumjae a deal

Part 15: Last Dance

Summary: Yoongi is at his core, really really stupid.

Part 16: Three Graves, Two Brothers, One gun

Summary: Saving you does not go as planned.

Part 17: The House

Summary: at the worst of times, Jimin often goes Silent.

~-~

Commonly asked questions:

Why the different name? because i thought it would be confusing to have two series's by the same name on the same page

Why are you editing this story? because i want to put it up for physical purchase either on amazon (ew i know) or some other alternative, the beginning of the story had always bugged me because it was not paced the same as the rest of it.

[dailynnt]

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 12/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hi guys ❤️‍🔥 I wrote part 12 for you 💗 I soooo wanted to post it earlier, but I didn't manage 💔 But it's ready today! So what do you think? I'm a little nervous because I'm still not satisfied with my writing 😣 Give me a few words so I know what you think 🥺

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 12. The first date

You walked into the apartment, feeling your heart pounding. You still have the taste of his kiss on your lips. You want to scold yourself for letting him do whatever he wants so easily. But yesterday, after the meeting with your mother, you were broken. The moment when he stood up for you, put his chest to your crying, opened up a different side of Jungkook for you. He no longer seemed like the arrogant, self-absorbed neighbor who did nothing but piss you off. Yesterday, you saw him as a man of great strength and backbone. He consoled you so carefully that your heart ached, and the walls of defense you had erected against him cracked and crumbled.

You had long ago recognized that you were physically attracted to Jungkook, but not morally, but yesterday everything changed. When he hugged you in bed, you realized that you needed him. In that moment, you needed him, and the sex that followed almost drove you crazy, because it felt completely different. Not as something you would regret, but as something you needed.

You're afraid you're going to fall in love with Jungkook, because it turns out he's not only good at fucking you, but he's also tender with you, and that's the most dangerous thing. You notice that he wants to touch you all the time. And when he does, you feel something strange. Like you're getting an electric shock, or a wave of heat goes through your body.

He behaves as if you belong to him, and it started with that night, which was the price for his service. Since then, he thinks he can have you whenever he wants and however he wants. And the worst part is that you want him to. No matter how hard you try to push him away or deny your relationship, you're here. You play the role of his girlfriend and you fuck whenever you want. And you want to do it a lot.

Your head is boiling from the flow of thoughts in your head, how to behave properly, how not to fall in love with him, how to learn to react to him more calmly? You didn't know the answers to all these questions. You exhaled a big sigh, dropping your things and walking inside the apartment. Maybe you should let things go? Let it happen? But won't you regret it when the deal comes to an end? Won't it be hard for you to continue living next door to Jungkook without feeling anything for him? You're afraid it will. Because even when he's not around, you subconsciously want him to be.

Why? Because yesterday you felt protected by him? But didn't you feel the need for his presence before the situation with your mother?

You are playing with fire, which can not only burn you, so it will hurt, it can burn you, destroy you. You will try to keep your cool, and maybe then Jungkook will turn away from you.

You put your things away and decided to take a bath, as the trip from Busan had exhausted you.

You barely talked to Jungkook on the way home because his phone just wouldn't stop ringing. It was because he wasn't in the office on a weekday, and there were many things that needed his attention. You were secretly watching how he conducted business, how he talked, and how he made decisions. You could tell that he was very good at what he did. He is a worthy heir to a large company and will be a great CEO when his time comes.

So, to get rid of your tiredness, you wanted to lie in the bathtub, which was perfect for relaxing your body.

You filled up the tub with warm water, added lavender-scented salt, and lathered up. You undressed and climbed into the tub. The water enveloped your body, swallowing you up like a cocoon. The smell of lavender filled your nostrils, and the warm water made you almost purr with pleasure. You closed your eyes and listened to the melody you had turned on your phone, completely immersing yourself in a relaxed atmosphere.

At first you lay there almost motionless, then you moved your arms a little under the water, stirring up small foamy waves. Your phone vibrated, your grandmother was calling. You picked up the phone, talked to her, told her that you had arrived quickly, and that Jungkook had gone to the office. Your grandmother didn't miss the chance to praise Jungkook once again and tell you how happy she was that you had him.

You listened to her with a pang in your heart. What will happen when she finds out that you're not seeing him anymore, when the agreement expires? She'll be upset, and she'll definitely be angry with Jungkook. What if she finds out that your relationship with him is fake? Will she be able to take that kind of blow? You shuddered at the thought.

You heard your grandmother calling you on the phone, because you had been thinking for too long. You said you were tired and wanted to rest. Grandma understood what you were saying and almost immediately afterwards, saying that she loved you and was grateful for everything you and Jungkook had done for her, she hung up.

You closed your eyes again, enjoying your bath, trying not to think about Jungkook, but it was not working. Moments from the morning and the past times you'd been together with him kept flashing through your mind. Your insides felt like they were being mixed a spoon when you involuntarily remembered how he entered you, what words he whispered to you. How he made you feel the best orgasm that no one before him had ever given you. You ran up to your feet, and your knees immediately touched the air, which was cool against the water.

You opened your eyes and looked at your feet. How do you stop thinking about him? But just as you were about to do so, his name appeared on your phone screen. Your heart lurched somewhere in your throat, but you ignored it and picked up the phone without wasting any time.

"Hello," you answered the call, trying to keep your tone even.

"Is the kitten busy?" you heard Jungkook's voice say. He sounded soft and playful. You immediately realized that he was calling for a reason. You had just seen him twenty minutes ago. He had a lot to do, which meant he was calling with a specific purpose.

"I'm taking a bath, what do you want?" you asked, sharper than you meant to.

"Oh... if I can video call you?" Jungkook asked. And his low voice made your body react in a way you didn't want it to. A subtle throbbing started between your legs. If you were really a couple, you'd let him call and make him wish he was around. But you won't give him that privilege because your relationship is fake. You clicked your tongue in irritation.

"Jungkook, say what you want or I'm hanging up," you warned, forcing him to get to the point of the call. You sat down, wrapping your arms around your knees.

"You shouldn't have said no, but I'm calling for a reason. Kitten, take a bath, put on something nice. In 15 minutes my manager will come to pick you up, I need you in the office."

You froze, trying to understand what Jungkook had just said.

"You mean in the office? Why?" you wondered.

"I'll explain when you get there," you heard him say. You were not satisfied with this answer. You really felt exhausted and had no desire to go anywhere else.

"We just got here, Jungkook, I'm tired after the trip, can I come tomorrow?" you asked, protesting but hoping that he didn't have a serious reason for your visit.

"No kitten, you need to be here in exactly half an hour." he replied in a tone that didn't accept objections. You exhaled a doomed breath, you saw no point in arguing with them, seemed like it had some to do with the deal, but he didn’t say it right away. And it was pissing you off.

"What should I wear?" you asked, trying to figure out what he needed you for in the office. And to avoid another argument over your appearance.

"Dress like we're going on a date," Jungkook told you. A date? He wants you to go on a date?

"I usually wear a t-shirt and jeans, is that okay?" your voice was filled with irony.

"If you feel comfortable wearing those clothes to an expensive restaurant, then sure, you can dress like a kitten," Jungkook replied. You heard him smile slightly. You exhaled nervously into the phone again. Of course, if this is a date with Jungkook, it will be an expensive restaurant and definitely media attention. So you need to dress nice and expensive.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 15 minutes." you promised.

"I'm waiting for you," he said happily.

You were the first to hang up and groaned, throwing the phone on the table. You wanted to rest so badly, but Jungkook had already ruined your plans with his "fake date."

At the entrance, right in front of the front door, you spotted a black car waiting for you. Spotlessly clean, with tinted windows, it looked luxurious. Jungkook's manager, a serious man who didn't seem to know how his face muscles worked, stood by the car. As soon as you approached, he bowed slightly, greeted you, introduced himself as Manager Lee Ji-hyun, and opened the back door for you.

You greeted back and got inside, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Inside, there was a subtle scent of leather and expensive perfume. Manager Lee silently took the driver's seat and drove off without another word.

You drove in silence for a while. You were checking your phone, and for some reason you were nervous at the thought of visiting Jungkook's office and after that going on a date afterwards.

The car drove smoothly onto the main road, the manager was silent. He certainly didn't have to entertain you, but his silence weighed on your shoulders. To break the silence, you tried to find out why you had to go to the Jungkook.

"Excuse me," you said, "Do you know why I need to go to Jungkook's office urgently..." in the rearview mirror, you met Manager Lee's attentive gaze. And thinking that you had called Chunguk informally, you quickly added, "Jungkook-nim?"

"Jungkook-nim will personally explain everything to you," he replied politely, without adding anything else.

You sighed slightly and leaned back. You stopped talking to him. Manager Lee seemed like a man who would not disobey an order even under pressure.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly to the huge ‘Jeon Group’ building. It looked like a glass tower that almost reached the clouds. It looked like dozens of similarly successful companies, but for some reason it seemed special. It was typical, but it stood out from the crowd.

Manager Lee silently drove into the underground parking lot, deftly maneuvering among the expensive cars. As soon as you parked, he got out, walked around the car, and gave you a short nod, inviting you to follow him.

You hurried after him across the large gray parking lot to the elevator. He pressed a special button, and a few seconds later the doors opened in front of you. The elevator was spacious, with mirrored walls and golden panels on the sides. You felt a little dizzy-not only because of the height you were going up, but also because of the tension inside you.

You did not meet a single person. It was obvious that this was a private elevator used only by executives. Your pulse was racing with each floor you passed. When the doors finally opened, you were greeted by a spacious reception area, elegant and restrained in gray and white.

Behind the desk sat the receptionist, a young woman with perfect hair and a professional smile. When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows in interest and greeted you warmly, quickly looking you up and down. Manager Lee informed the secretary that you were here to see CEO Jeon Jungkook on a personal matter.

You politely greeted her back, a little embarrassed to see her studying you. The manager did not linger in the reception area, he hurried to Jungkook’s office and you intuitively followed him. The manager was the first to enter, announcing that you had arrived.

"Jungkook-nim, Y/N has arrived," you heard him officially announce.

You held your breath as you followed him into the office. You stepped inside, and your fingers involuntarily tightened on the strap of your purse. You tried to act confident.

Jungkook's gaze, which looked up from the tablet, burned you instantly. His fingers froze over the screen. His eyes...

They swallowed you whole, as if you were the only person in this entire huge office.

You nervously brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling the cream dress cling to your skin. It fit you perfectly, you knew that, but now you felt naked under his gaze.

You watched him stand up. How he took a step toward you, and you had to use an effort of will to keep yourself from stepping back. You wanted to look calm. But inside, everything was turning upside down. You didn't understand why you were reacting to him like that. Why he suddenly caused your heart to race.

You noticed Jungkook's jaw tense slightly as he slowly looked you up and down. His eyes were dark, sparkling... almost dangerous.

"Manager Lee, thank you for bringing me the Y/N. You can go now," his voice was low, vibrating, and you tried your best not to react to it.

You couldn't see, but you guessed that Manager Lee nodded and bowed. The barely audible rustle of his suit gave him away. He left and you were left with the two of you. There was a silence in the air, and you wanted to break it as soon as possible so that it wouldn't press on your ears.

"You asked me to look like we were going on a date," you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice was a little strained. You looked away, took a few steps to the side, as if you were curious to see his office. "Do I look appropriate?" I threw over my shoulder, touching my fingers to the golden rabbit statue on his desk.

There was no response. You felt his gaze on you and it literally burned you.

He came even closer, and his voice finally sounded hoarse.

"You look... dangerously appropriate." the next moment his arms slid around your waist. You felt the strength of his palms as he held you close. Your heart was beating wildly. You were frozen in place, as if you were paralyzed.

His face leaned down to your shoulder, and you felt his nose touch your skin. He inhaled your scent deeply. The sweet smell of apricots that you had chosen for yourself today seemed to appeal to him.

"Jungkook..." You whispered nervously, grabbing his hands, trying to push him away, to stop him. You were in his office, and anyone could walk in, because door was unlocked. "What are you doing? What if someone comes in?"

The answer was a kiss on the earlobe. A light bite that almost made your knees buckle.

"That's my plan..." he murmured low, his lips burning against your skin.

You turned your head, forcing yourself to keep your distance, even though his proximity was driving you crazy. Your brain was boiling.

"What do you mean?" you whispered, trying to figure out what exactly this plan was. His eyes slid to your lips, staying there long enough for you to know for sure that he wanted to kiss you.

"My mother should be here soon with Sukhi," his voice sounded almost weightless. "They wanted to pick me up to have dinner with them. But I'm busy. I'm going on a date with my girlfriend."

You were instantly filled with anger. You opened your eyes wide.

"You do it again, Jeon!" you exploded, instinctively pulling away. His hands reluctantly dropped. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place that your mother would be here?!" you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling anger and anxiety mixing inside you. You weren't ready to meet his mother at all. Not so soon. "I should to known, Jungkook! I could have at least prepared myself mentally!". Again, he confronted you with a fact.

Jungkook looked at you calmly. As calmly as if this were a completely normal situation. His eyes were sparkling. There was something... unstoppable in them.

"I knew you would react this way," he said, moving toward you.

"You knew and you are deliberately doing this to spite me?" you asked colorlessly. And then it all happened too fast. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and pushed you against the table with a sharp movement. You gasped, and before you knew it, you felt a hard surface beneath you.

He lifted you to the edge of the table, standing between your legs, holding you tightly by the hips. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

"You don't have to worry, kitten," he purred, his gaze darkened, stirring desire in you. "I'm just going to show you to your mother. It won't take more than a minute. And then we'll go..."

"I don't..." you began, but your words were lost in his sudden, passionate kiss. Jungkook's lips covered yours, leaving you no chance to escape.

You felt his arms holding you even tighter, his lips demanding more than you were ready to give. You were overcome with frenzy-sweet, intoxicating, disturbing. You felt moisture instantly soaking your underwear.

You had been in his office. You couldn't do it here. But Jungkook's touch made you forget everything but your unrestrained desire.

While enjoying Jungkook's kiss, you didn't immediately hear the office door open.

"Jungkook-ah, son..." a cold female voice said. Your heart sank to your heels. Jungkook slowly pulled away from your lips, but his arms still held you.

You could feel his chest heaving with his breath. Jungkook turned his head, and you saw them.

His mother.

And Sukhi.

They were standing in the doorway, their eyes on you.

You can't even imagine how horrible it looked in their eyes. You are sitting on the table. Jungkook is standing between your legs with his hands on your hips.

You were ready to fall through the ground. And you definitely wanted to kill Jungkook right now.

Your anger knew no bounds. You turned away from Jungkook, who was driving and didn't seem to feel any guilt at all. The music in the Mercedes was playing, trying unsuccessfully to muffle the loud silence between you. The scene you had experienced ten minutes ago flashed in your mind over and over again.

You abruptly jumped off the table, pushing Jungkook away. Your face was flushed red and your hands were shaking. Jungkook didn't take a step back. He just turned lazily towards the guests, and a half-smile appeared on his face, the same self-confident and impudent one that made you lose your temper every time.

"Mom," he greeted calmly, not even trying to hide his impudence. "Sukhi."

You were ready to break through the ground, you wanted to disappear. You had never felt so terrible. You looked down, thinking of the most horrible way to kill Jungkook.

Jungkook's mother looked at you sternly, her gaze icy and hard, but you didn't see it. Sukhi looked hurt and upset at first, and then a smile appeared on her face, a gloating, subtle smile. And Jungkook didn't like it, her first reaction was better suited to the situation.

"I see you're very... busy," Jungkook's mother said with icy restraint. "But Manager Lee assured me that you're free tonight."

"Yeah, mom, already a bit busy," Jungkook said without shame, putting his hand on your waist. You glared at him, wanting to slap him. "But never mind . Y/N and I were going to leave."

"Y/N..." Jungkook's mother repeated your name. Your insides clenched. You heard the soft click of her heels and unconsciously held your breath. She stopped a few steps away. "Is this the same girl that the journalists recently wrote about?" she asked, as if driving a knife into your body with every word.

Jungkook's mother looked at you, and you could almost physically feel her gaze.

"Yes, mom, it's her." you heard Sukhi’s voice. "Jungkook introduced me to her at the after-party for the opening of the ‘Vante Maison’ boutique."

His mother didn't react to Sukhi’s words. There was a moment of silence, and then Jungkook's mother said.

"Son, I understand why you're playing with this girl. She's really pretty, but you know... you need to end it. Tell Manager Lee to order a taxi for her and let's go have dinner with your future fiancée..." Jungkook's mother didn't have time to finish her sentence because he interrupted her.

"Mom…" his voice was steady, but the irritation in it was unmistakable. "I don’t have a fiancée. What I have is this girl — and I’m not playing games with her, I’m dating her. And right now, I’m taking her on a date, so I won’t be able to go with you."

He said each word slowly, clearly, as if to finally make it sink in — for both his mother and Suhee: he wasn’t playing by their rules.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the office exit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You felt Jungkook touch your thigh. Holding back your anger, you looked at his hand on your skin, and then slowly looked up at him. He glared at you, but quickly turned back to the road.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" he said quietly, with a guilty, almost boyish smile.

"Angry?" you stared at his profile, barely restraining the urge to hit him, "Why would I be angry, huh, Jeon? Because your mother looked at me as if I were a cheap accessory to be disposed of as soon as possible?"

"Do you care about my mother's opinion?" Jungkook suddenly asked, squeezing your thigh lightly. You raised your eyebrows, not understanding what he was getting at.

"No. But..." you trailed off, catching yourself thinking that you were really upset that his mother didn't accept you.

"She wouldn't to approve you even if you weren't my fake girlfriend. She wants me to marry Sukhi. So don't take her behavior into account," Jungkook reassured you.

Those words hit you like a cold shower. Yes, you are not Jungkook's real girlfriend. It made sense that his mother didn’t welcome you with open arms on the doorstep — youwere just an obstacle in her family's big plans. You turned away. Why do you feel humiliated by this situation?

"Just warn me about your damned antics next time. I'm tired of improvise," you grunted, hiding your emotions behind your irritation.

"Okay," he replied seriously. "Next time I'll tell you right away. Although," his lips slipped into a half-smile, "you're not bad at improvising, today, for example, you were so good to keep silence."

"Gosh, just shut up," you couldn't stand his insolence. You pushed his hand away, and Jungkook didn't like it. He gave a sideways glare at you. You sat with your arms crossed and looked straight ahead. Your eyebrows remained furrowed in displeasure.

A few minutes later, you pulled up to the restaurant. Jungkook parked the car. You was looking at the expensive place and only now did it dawn on you that you had come here for a fake first date.

"Umgg.." you squeezed out. Now you felt sadness mixed with irritation, but you'd have to smile and act like Jungkook's happy girl. He turned to you.

"If you don't want to go inside, I can take you home," he offered. You could hear the tension in his voice. He didn't seem to like your mood, but whose fault was that?

You asked him without turning your head.

"Can I really refuse? Or is it your voluntary and forced choice again?" you said sarcastically. Jungkook nervously leaned back in his car seat, his posture relaxed, though his eyes said he wasn't in the mood to play right now.

"Do you want to refuse?" he asked in a serious tone that sent a chill down your spine. You finally turned your face to him.

"Yes, I do, I don't want to play your lucky pleasure toy," you said. Jungkook moved forward sharply, and in a matter of seconds he closed the distance between you. He leaned on the armrest and looked at you with a piercing gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a low voice that made your pulse quicken. You glanced at his lips in betrayal and then quickly returned to his eyes. It was no more than a second, but Jungkook caught it. He was attentive to every detail about you.

"Yes," you said firmly, without any hesitation. "Take me home. I don't want to go on a date with you." Jungkook was angry. He didn't look away. His jaw tensed, and a fire flashed in his eyes that you'd seen before, the one that appeared when he wasn't going to give in.

And then, unexpectedly, he leaned in even closer, so close that your breath hitched.

"It's a pity you don't want to. Because I've already decided that you're staying," his voice sounded dull, low, dangerous. His hand took you sharply, but not roughly, by the chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You grabbed his hand and threw it away.

"You offered to drive me if I didn't want to go. I don't want to," you repeated again. "And don't grab me like that. I'm not your property..." you said, your voice trembling with anger.

Jungkook froze for a moment. His lips were pressed into a thin line. Then he silently unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. You followed his figure with your eyes, realizing that he was walking to your door. He opened it and leaned towards you. You stared in surprise at his face, which was close. He also released your body from the seatbelt, and before you could get a word in edgewise, he grabbed your arm and pulled you outside. Jungkook closed the car door and pushed you against it. His strong body pressed against yours felt good. Jungkook almost kissed you, keeping his lips within touching distance.

"Am I so unpleasant to you that you refuse to go out with me?" he asked, purring against your lips. You watched his lips move in awe. The way the piercing on his lower lip glistened.

"No..." you said the truth, mesmerized by his closeness, "it's just that my mood has gone to hell," you said quietly, holding his elbows.

"I can lift it very easily, you know that..." he whispered, touching your cheek with his nose. He was driving you crazy with his actions. Your heart melted and you couldn't be angry with him anymore. "Where should I lift it up for you in the car, or in the restaurant's restroom?" he asked playfully. He looked at you, and his eyes were full of undisguised desire.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a slight wave of excitement run through your body. You glanced behind him. There were a lot of people near the restaurant and in the restaurant itself. You didn't see anyone looking at you, but it was definitely was.

"Jungkook," you tried to increase the distance between your faces, "there are a lot of people here..."

Jungkook looked into your eyes and smiled, pleased that you were reacting more calmly.

"It’s not just crowded here — there are also journalists who would be thrilled to write yet another article about our relationship." he said, kissing you lightly on the corner of your mouth. You instinctively closed your eyes, and when you realized he wasn't going to continue, you opened them.

"Did you take care of it? I think I will get a new portions hateful comments. Some people wrote that you have a taste problem." you said, smiling slightly. You remembered one of the comments under those articles where you were first called Jungkook's mistress. And that comment was not the most offensive.

"They must have a problem with their eyesight if they think I have no taste," Jungkook said irritably, his eyebrows furrowing. You bit your lips to hide the smile provoked by Jungkook's response.

"Maybe you have really bad taste?" you joked, "come on, I can tell you that if you tell me your ideal type."

"You" Jungkook answered immediately. The smile that had been frozen on your face slipped away. You felt something invisible squeezing your chest.

"Me?" you couldn't believe your ears. This can't be happening. He's just trying to play on your feelings. He's manipulating you to stop being angry with him.

"You heard me, kitten. You're my perfect type of girl," Jungkook assured you. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. He stroked it lightly, savoring your confusion, "But your temper is a nightmare," he smiled slyly. He's a master at ruining a good moment.

"Idiot..." you said quietly, turning your head away. Jungkook laughed heartily. You were outraged by what he said about your character, because you thought you were a person of good character. Jungkook squeezed you tighter in his arms and leaned over, touching your forehead.

"But I have to admit that your character is a real challenge for me, and I love challenges."

You sighed, trying not to give in to the emotions he was stirring up in you. His closeness was intoxicating. His words were irritatingly pleasant. But you couldn't afford to lose control again.

"Let's go, I'm hungry." you ignored his words, hiding the real emotions.

"Yes, kitten, we'll go, but first, a convincing gesture that we're a couple," Jungkook said, and the next moment he touched your lips. His tongue unceremoniously burst into your mouth, demonstrating his superiority.

You felt your heart clench sharply. Jungkook was so confident that even his kiss seemed dominant, but there was no violence in it, only a deafening, slightly unbridled heat. You couldn't just pull away, even though you knew it would hurt your control. He seemed to know exactly how to exploit all your weaknesses.

You responded to him, trying to control yourself, but his bent body, his heat permeating every cell of your skin, made it difficult. When the kiss broke, you did your best not to look too confused.

"Now let's go, Jin will feed you the most delicious food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he intertwined your fingers. So this luxurious restaurant, ‘Nocturne’, belongs to Jin. The guy you met at the afterparty.

The entrance to the restaurant was luxurious. The warm light inside created a cozy atmosphere The interior was decorated in delicate pastel colors, dominated by shades of pink - from muted powdery to deeper, rich colors.

The walls were covered with soft light panels with textured plaster, and abstract paintings in a pink gradient hung between them. The silky tablecloths reflected the light, and each table had a small vase of peonies and tea roses.

The hostess - a tall, slender girl in a stylish black dress with a pale pink belt - came to you almost instantly as soon as you crossed the threshold. Her face lit up when she saw Jungkook.

"Jungkook-nim," she bowed slightly, smiling. "It's good to see you again. It's been a while." It was obvious that he was a frequent visitor here, and it was not surprising, since it was his friend's restaurant. The hostess gave you a brief, attentive glance, after which her smile became even warmer, but with a touch of professional politeness. "Please, let me show you to the best table."

She led you past several tables set up near tall windows, behind which the lights of the evening city shimmered slightly, and to a table in a secluded corner of the room, a little away from the other guests. The table was covered with a pink tablecloth, and napkins with the restaurant's embroidered initials were already waiting for them.

"Your waiter will be with you in a moment," the hostess said and politely left.

You looked around. Less than a minute later, a young waiter approached you with a tablet in his hands. He was a little nervous when he met Jungkook's eyes and quickly bowed.

"Good evening. My name is Jihoon, and I'll be serving you tonight. What would you like to order?"

"Can you have Kim Seokjin serve me and my girlfriend the best romantic dinner possible?" Jungkook replied calmly, not needing a menu. The young man became even more nervous, but smiled as he bowed.

"I will pass on your request to our chef. Do you have any special requests for drinks?"

"No, Jihoon, no need for additional drinks. Just serve what will be best for this dinner," Jungkook said, his voice low and calm, as if he controlled every movement in the space.

The waiter nodded and, with another quick bow, quickly left.

You glanced around the room and noticed that there were a lot of people in the restaurant. You looked around the interior for a moment longer, and then turned your head to Jungkook, and he was already looking at you, with a mysterious smile on his lips.

"What?" you asked, reservedly.

"Nothing... I just thought I've never brought a girl here before. You're the first."

You arched an eyebrow, not believing what he was saying.

"Why didn't you bring a girl here? Were you afraid Jin would see how many of them were?" you scoffed.

"Not for that reason. He already knows how many there were. And it's not dozens, as you think." Jungkook replied, putting his hands on the table and locking them. You still didn't believe him.

"Then what's the reason?" you asked sincerely. He shrugged and then looked away, sliding his gaze across the hall.

"Probably because this place is special to me. It's connected to the real me. With my best friend. I didn't want to share something so personal with someone else."

Jungkook's words impressed you. You felt special and you couldn't help but like it. The fact that he had shared something personal with you caused a warm wave in your chest. But the part of you that was used to not trusting him made itself known.

"Why did you want to share with me?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because I learned something about you yesterday, and it wouldn't be fair of me if I didn't do the same," he answered, smiling slightly. You looked at him for a long few seconds. You understood perfectly well what he was talking about. Jungkook recognized your personal trauma related to your mother, and he wanted to share something personal with you as well. For example, he wanted to take you to a special place for him, where no one from his circle except his friends ever goes.

You didn't know what to say, because you were pleasantly surprised by his behavior, which was new to you. Jungkook was becoming more and more unlike the Jungkook you knew as a neighbor.

You were saved from the awkwardness that arose between you by Jin, the chef of this luxurious restaurant, who was rapidly approaching your table. You noticed him first, and smiled at his cheerful mood. Jungkook noticed your gaze shift and turned around.

"Did you really bring your girlfriend to my restaurant?" asked Jin, smiling and opening his arms to hug his friend. Jungkook stood up and for some reason you stood up too. They hugged each other like family.

"Yes, Jin-hyun. I thought she should know who cooks the best food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he let go of Jin. Jin bowed slightly to you, and you bowed back.

"It's good to see you, Y/N. Now I can definitely see that Jungkook-ah is serious about you," he leaned in, pressing his hands to his lips as if he wanted to share a secret, but he said it so Jungkook could hear it, "he's never brought a girl here, he's not the dating type."

You smiled sweetly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I'm really glad that Jungkook brought me to you, Jin-shi. and wants to go a date with me. It makes me feel special," you lied, you turned your gaze to Jungkook and met his attentive gaze. You could barely stop yourself from raising your eyebrows in surprise. He looked at you almost without blinking, with a mesmerized gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, why was he staring like that?

"It would be my honor to prepare a romantic dinner for you. I will choose the best dishes and won't keep you waiting long. I hope you enjoy it," Jin said sincerely. He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, pulling him away from you.

"We sure will," Jungkook said.

Jin went to the kitchen, and right after he left, a waiter brought you a white semi-sweet wine. He poured you two glasses and wished you a pleasant evening and left. Jungkook grabbed a glass and you followed suit.

"Cheers to us," Jungkook suggested. You smiled tensely.

"To our deal. For it to work," you added. Jungkook nodded and the sound of glass diluted the noise around you. You took a few sips and the flavor of the grapes blossomed on your tongue. You noticed that Jungkook was staring at you and tried to act calm. But it wasn't working out well. You were nervous about his piercing gaze today.

"Relax, kitten, you look so tense, it's just dinner," Jungkook suddenly said as he put his glass on the table. He noticed your tense state and you didn't like it. You need to control your body language better. You really need to relax, but Jungkook is the direct cause of your tension. His behavior makes your heart beat faster, and it makes you feel strange.

"I'd be more relaxed if you weren't eating me up with your eyes," you said as casually as you could. You took another sip of wine, instinctively hiding behind the glass.

Jungkook laughed, his eyes still on you, a soft laugh with a hint of amusement. You realized that he was really enjoying the fact that he could embarrass you so much. He dodged a direct answer, but you saw his lips turn up slightly at the corners.

"I'm not eating you. I'm just... admiring," he said, almost a whisper, and his gaze softened, but it made you lose control even more "It's hard to look away when looking at a woman like that."

Your cheeks lit up, and you instantly looked away. Was the wine starting to take effect, or was it him? It seems that today Jungkook decided to attack you with emotions, not words. And you were completely unprepared for it.

"Are you trying to throw compliments at me, hoping for something after dinner?" you asked ironically. He burst out laughing again.

"Doesn't a date end with sex after a romantic dinner?" he answered with a question, making his voice seductively playful. You hummed, unconsciously, pressing your thighs together. The thought of having sex with Jungkook after your fake date was already burning red in your head. You wonder to yourself how he can make you feel this uncontrollable desire. To be honest, you hope that this is how your evening will end, but you can't show it to him. There's no way Jungkook can find out that you want to have sex with him.

"Seems like all your dates end this way, huh? Hate to disappoint you, but for normal people — it doesn’t always go like this," you said sarcastically. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.

"Really? That's so boring," he said. You gave a short laugh.

"It's not boring," you argued. "Decent people don't have sex after the first date," you said indignantly. Jungkook was enjoying your conversation, his eyes burning with curiosity.

"You've never had sex on a first date?" he asked, smiling broadly, and sipped his wine. You raised your eyebrows.

"Never! I don't sleep with men I barely know," your answer made Jungkook's eyes light up. He leaned back in his chair and looked at you slyly, as if you had just told a lie.

"You hardly knew me either when we first had sex. But you slept with me anyway," he said, watching your reaction closely. You froze, not expecting such words.

"We've known each other for a long time..." you began uncertainly, trying to justify yourself, but Jungkook interrupted you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"I..." you trailed off, swallowing your indecision along with the bitterness in your chest. "It was different. You wanted sex as payment for a favor, and... I was... in a very difficult position at the time."

Jungkook was listening intently, but he didn't seem satisfied with your explanation. He raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips, as if to suggest that your answer was just an attempt to escape the truth.

"So you only agreed because you had no choice?" he asked quietly, but his voice was a mixture of resentment and curiosity. He wasn't angry, no. But you felt that he was waiting for something more. Maybe even sincerity.

"Um..." you really didn't know what to say. In fact, you agreed because you wanted to. If you hadn't been attracted to Jungkook, you wouldn't have even let him touch you. "Yes," you lied. You were afraid to tell him openly that you liked him. "You threatened to make my life in the neighborhood terrible." You remembered what he said.

Jungkook tilted his head. He couldn't believe that you didn't want him as much as he wanted you. From the first day you met him, he could feel the sexual tension between you and he knew, that you felt it too.

"And the other times?" he asked, "you also had no choice?"

You felt a heat run up your spine. You felt hot, and you wanted to end this topic as soon as possible.

"We actually talked about dating," you tried to change the subject. Jungkook smiled, he could see how nervous you were, and it made him feel hot.

Jungkook didn't look away. His smile became slow, almost lazy, and there was something predatory and alluring about it.

"Yes, we talked about dating..." he trailed off, as if savoring every word. His voice became low and deep, and you caught him trying to suppress a subtle laugh. "You're contradicting yourself. You assurer that you don't have sex with men at first date, because you don’t know his well, but you agreed to have sex with me, a man you barely knew," Jungkook summarized.

"You don't take into account the circumstances under which I agreed," you said, unhappy, clutching your glass involuntarily.

"No, you're just not the good girl you want to appear to be," Jungkook said, still smiling slyly. Your eyes widened in shock, indignation, and... anger. Who was he to make such a judgment about you?

Jungkook stood up, put his chair next to yours, and sat down, boldly and brazenly violating your personal space. As always, without asking permission. His knee touched yours. And you seemed to be frozen.

He leaned closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath sliding across your cheek. His voice was low, muffled, dangerously slow.

"You act like you're only interested in control, only in rules... But your eyes tell me more than you want to. You want to be exposed. To have your soul bared."

You held your breath.

His fingers touched your wrist. Gently. Barely. But it was enough to make your body tense.

"You're the kind of person who's afraid of their desires, but dreams of someone guessing them. For someone... to stop you from running away from yourself." His gaze did not let go. Warm, but commanding. Piercing. He slid his fingers down the outside of your thigh, over the fabric of your skirt, slowly, steadily, as if he were testing how far he could go without saying a word.

You gulped in a breath, your heart beating with double the force. His touch was light, but a wave was already rising inside you.

"Look at you," his voice was barely audible, almost a whisper, sliding over you like silk. "You're trembling because you want me to touch you..."

You tried to say something, but the words dissolved in his breath. He leaned in even closer and gently touched your lips-not with a kiss, but with a seduction.

"In fact, you love sex and are ready to sleep with a man on the first date if you like him. You're ready to suck his cock like any whore's can’t do, and let him have you completely and totally. You have a lot of hidden kinks that affect you and you don't mind exploring even more perversions if you're comfortable with your partner."

Jungkook's every word is like a blow to your solar plexus. You forget how to breathe. Your lips are slightly parted, and you see his eyes slide over them before meeting yours again. The look in Jungkook's eyes is one of confidence, of being right, and fuck, he's right. He good learned you and it scares.

"I'm not..." you wanted to argue, but your voice was shaking.

"Yes, you are," Jungkook replied quietly, his voice a dangerous, pleasant whisper. "You agreed to have sex with me, barely knowing me, because you're attracted to me, kitten." He slid his hand down under the skirt of your dress.

You felt your stomach clench with tension, and then he gently spread his warmth down. It seemed that he was not penetrating your skirt, but your skin.

You felt him touch your underwear. The pulse between your legs increased and moisture began to leak out.

"I can finger fuck you under the table right now and you wouldn't mind... that's how bad you are," he whispered in your ear. His breath burned your skin.

His fingers slid down to your thighs, pushed the edge of your thong away... and touched your most sensitive spot. At first hesitantly, teasingly, as if studying you. His middle finger slid along your wet slit, and you almost screamed.

You squeezed his hand with your legs, not stopping him, but rather pressing him closer. Your hand instinctively grabbed his wrist, and your cheek rested on his shoulder.

"Jungkook..." you whispered, chained by both fear and excitement. "The journalists... they..."

"They won't," his voice was hoarse, hard, almost angry. "I've chosen the perfect angle. Now, be quiet and obey."

He pressed harder, his thumb slowly beginning to draw circles on your clit, sensitively, without rushing, making you clench. The other two fingers penetrated deeper, stretching, pulsing inside you.

"So wet..." he breathed out, and his tongue touched your earlobe. You felt your whole body tremble.

He was taking his time. He was torturing you, corrupting every inch of you.

"Come on, kitten... Feel it. I want you to come here. For me."

A few smooth strokes, then a change of rhythm - faster, deeper - and then slowly again... He played you like an instrument.

You could feel your body being filled with waves. Each touch was like a flash. Your internal muscles began to tremble. You couldn't breathe.

His voice was the last push:

"You are my bad girl. Whoring under the table is your new name. Cum for me, kitten."

You clenched around his fingers, your body merged into one climactic wave, you gasped for breath, moaned softly, digging your fingers into his shirt. Your clit throbbed, a few more soft touches and you crumbled, helpless and trembling.

Jungkook kept his eyes on you. His fingers were still touching you-softly, gently, almost tenderly, as if they were calming your storm. Then he slowly pulled his hand out from under your skirt. He took a glass, took a sip, and said calmly:

"See?" his voice was softer but still deep, "You just came on my fingers." You clenched your jaw. A wave of shame and desire mixed in your chest, making your heart beat faster. "You want me even when you're not supposed to. Even when there are people around. And you hardly know me, so don't lie to yourself."

He leaned down and lightly touched your lips with his. He tasted each of your lips in turn, and finally pulled away with a reverent gesture. He sat up straight, as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours. There was everything in his gaze: triumph, desire, possession.

But you couldn't say anything. Your breathing hadn't steadied yet, and your heart was pounding in your chest as if it wanted to jump out.

Your legs trembled a little, and you tried your best to sit upright, even though you were still pulsing wave after wave inside. You clenched your jaw, trying to pull yourself together. Your hot cheeks gave you away.

And at that very moment, the waiter approached your table with a slight bend and a professional smile.

"Your appetizers," he said, placing the plates on the table. You tried your best not to look at Jungkook and not to give yourself away. You just took the glass of wine and took a sip, hiding the trembling of your lips.

"Thanks," Jungkook said calmly, as if nothing had happened. He pushed the plate over to you and whispered very quietly, keeping his eyes on you:

"Now, pretend to eat while your body still remembers my fingers."

You almost choked on the wine, but you gathered your strength. The smile on your lips was nervous, but your eyes were burning with... desire. And shame.

⇠ Previous ⟡ Index ➩ ⟡ Next ⇢

[dvmbification]

PLEASE, GIRL, YOU HOLD ME NOW ft. sunday

( synopsis ) you don’t love him anymore, and he knows that himself. but whatever he could do to make you stay, he’d do it, as he needs you so much–needs you like oxygen. he might just lock you up in a pretty cage, pretty enough to match your face, to keep you safe with him forever.you're his love belt, and you know that yourself.

( tags ) sunday x fem!reader, slight angst, mild ñšfw, böñdágé kîñk, vöÿéürîšm, he ćümš in his pants, fîñgérîñg, possessiveness, one sided love, sunday is a weirdo, lots of angsty pining, sad make out session

( wc ) 2.2k

( toni's note ) repost again again again!!! this work is one of my favs so far.. I edited and added a bit btw !! gift for @nvuy :3 LOVE YA LOTS, MISAAAA !!

with the tall, stained glass window left open, a calm breeze enters your room. the soft moonlight brightens the place, and bounces off of your skin. this is it, you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, in your white nightdress, unsure of what you’re even doing. it’s weird, isn’t it? you were so infatuated with sunday, harping on about him to everyone you came across, anyone who even mentioned his name. but now, here you are–preparing yourself and your belongings, to flee this mansion of his, and the grasp of someone who was once your lover–at heart, at least. you’re startled at the sudden but gentle knock at your door. the very door creaks open to reveal a groggy sunday peeping through the cracks. fuck, he shouldn’t even be awake right now. “my dove, where have your things gone?” he croaks, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“ah. i’m just.. rearranging my room.” it hurts, it’s your first time lying to him, ever. you hope he was tired enough to have whatever you said slip his mind, but he saw right through you and your words–and you’re pretty sure you know that yourself. he frowns. “then, may you explain to me why all of your things have disappeared, even outside of your room?” he crosses his arms, and that’s when you both knew that you fucked up. maybe, just maybe, you could save yourself right now. “about that,” you kick away the suitcase which laid beside your feet. “i’d just like everything that belongs to me, y’know, inside my room–” “don’t lie to me, love.” he looks away to focus on the unholy amount of luggages and cases behind you. welp. as he takes a few steps towards you, your legs start to quiver in fear. the silence that follows pierces your ears, leaving you practically deaf.

and before you know it, he’s inches away from your face. “you know what i can do, right?” you hesitatingly nod your head, knowing what he’s capable of, and knowing that he can get anything out of you. “then why should i have to get it out of you, before you tell me yourself?” there’s genuine hurt in his eyes, and it hurts you even more. “i—i don’t know.” you choke out a pathetic response, throat already closing up and eyes swelling with tears threatening to fall down. “please.” he’s about to fall on his knees. you've made up your mind, and with a heavy heart, it was all or nothing. “sunday,” your voice falters. he focuses entirely on you now, wiping the tears building up at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t love you anymore.” his stare widens. “say that again, dear?” he sounds distraught, unable to believe what you said just now. your lips purse, unable to let those five words slip out again. “i don’t love you anymore, sunday.” his own throat closes up, speechless. he felt as though the world was caving in on him, his life crumbling apart. he never thought he’d hear that from you, little ol’ you, who loved him so dearly, and promised to do so until death. 

he chuckles a little, dryly, denying the bitter truth that just came out of your mouth. “you’re kidding. right?” his voice is cracking, the sorrow within him seeping out. his lips curl into a smile full of hope, hope in the fact that you’re lying to him again. but it pains him to know that you’re not lying, and it’s very much true, at the back of his mind, he could tell that you’ve fallen out of love lately. every romantic gesture or sign of affection he’d show every other while, would elicit nothing from you back. did he make you mad? or have you felt pity for his love for you this entire time? no, that couldn’t be. sunday can pull the truth out of anyone, but he’s never had to do it with you. you’re an honest, earnest person, and you both know that. it’s not like you to lie, so why would you? “right?” this time, his voice has a threatening tone to it, chilling you down to the bone. he cups your face to look you deep in the eye, looking for just one yes, somewhere inside there.

“i’m not kidding.” you gently push him away, telling him for the nth time, that you really don’t love him at all anymore. “then what’s next?” sunday reaches out to hold your hand, now caressing it with his thumb. “i’m leaving in the morning, with everything else.” your eyes avert his gaze, which you’re sure now hold a grudge on you. but he’s not like that–to hold a grudge on someone who once loved him, right? “no,” he smiles, a breathy chuckle leaving through his teeth. “no, no, no, no..” sunday brings his hands to his head. you feel a rush of fear down your spine. “you’re not going anywhere. you should know this.” at that moment, a sudden feeling of drowsiness hit you. feeling like collapsing, the world around you spins, and in a state of total relaxation, you fall to the ground–but before you reach the floor, sunday catches you as you faint.

—

after a while, you stir awake–and wake up to be inside a large, golden cage, adorned in jewels and gemstones. it’s magnificent–the moonlight shines on each singular gem, reflecting the colors onto your face. you try to feel your face, and around the cage–but your hands stay in place. you find yourself to be in a kneeling position and tightly tied up in rope–with your hands bonded together above your head–and ankles separated, tied to the bars of the cage you kneel in. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, even your waist is tied back to the cage. you struggle and panic in place, unable to slip the rope off. “it’s no use,” sunday mutters, walking towards your helpless figure. “even if you found a way to untie yourself, you wouldn’t budge an inch, anyway.” you grunt and whine, doing your best to even move a muscle, but to no avail. 

“let me go.” you pleaded on your knees, quite literally. but he denied each and every one of your empty promises, promises to stay. “i know what you’re thinking–again, don’t lie to me.” “get out of my mind.” you hiss, tears threatening to break and fall down your face. he can’t promise that, as you can’t promise to stay no longer anyway. “please. stay here with me.” he sounds mad, furious, even–but he treats you so gently–each time he touches your face or hand, he does it with such care, like you’re glass. it pains your heart, knowing the anger and sorrow he holds deep inside him, but he still handles you so carefully like you’re the most delicate of porcelain dolls.

his eyes flicker at your neck, covered in marks he believes he’s never left. an empty feeling fills his gut, he feels sick to his stomach–knowing that someone else has touched you. practically crawling to you, he proceeds to leave trails of gentle kisses along the crook of your neck. you silently plead for him to go on by craning your head to the side, giving sunday more access. “why..” his voice rasps, shaking uncontrollably. you let it go, and start to sob out of sympathy for the man. “i’m sorry.” “no you’re not.” but you know that he knows, that you’re telling the truth. you truly feel sorry for him, and you show it through your heavy tears, rolling down your cheeks. 

“don’t cry, my dove.” he says so softly, with no sign of anger this time. his thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears which stain your face, while he continues to leave small bruises and bites on your neck. “can you tell me why you don’t love me anymore?” “no.” even through knowing your mind and thoughts, he couldn’t find out why you would fall out of love, either. “do you even know?” his want to know about this was genuine. “..no.” you sniffle and hiccup.

“how do i make you love me again?” 

“i don’t know.”

 “can i..” his words trail off, but you know what he’s talking about. “please.” he unbuttons your nightdress, slipping it down to your hips. you can see it in his eyes that he’s disappointed. “how do you not love me,” your waist spasms as he traces circles right above your cunt. “when you’re this wet?” you couldn’t help but arch your back and whine as his other hand traced your spine, sending tingling sensations down it. he purposefully avoids your wet cunt, even your breasts, as he carefully feels around your body, barely brushing his fingers across your skin. it’s so sweet–it’s sweet how delicately he handles you, how he softly speaks to you, but it feels like torture–it felt torturous how forgiving his touch was, or how he was telling you your own thoughts, nitpicking at your own lies to him, to yourself. “can't..can’t help it..” your breath shakes and falters as you weakly smile.

sunday pulls away to take another look at you. it's perverted, degenerate, even—his thoughts bubble up like freshly popped soulglad, thoughts of how tempting you looked in the state you were, and thoughts of how badly he wanted to give in to those temptations. he's biting his lip, gritting his teeth, wiping away the sweat on his temple. how irresistible you were, always.

he unbuckles his pants to pull it down and push it aside, to reveal the very visible bulge in his underwear. “you wouldn’t mind?” he shifts his head to give you a pleading look. and as weird as it feels and looks, you let him. he groans, rubbing his palm against his clothed cock, circling his thumb at the tip. “i love you.” he repeats, on and on. you wish you could help him out, but all you could do was watch and grind your hips against the floor in desperation as he pleasures himself. this was also torturous. “c-close. i’m close.” in minutes, he finishes in his boxers, shooting his load inside not you, but nothing, this time. his dick twitches and quivers, softening up.

he moans. “you don’t know how much i love you,” bringing his hand to handle the bars of the cage behind you, he brings his mouth to your ear. “and how much this hurts me.” he lets go of you, and for the first time in a while, you see a few tears roll out of his eyes. the swelling of your heart worsens at seeing him cry, the pounding reaching your throat. “do you believe me?” “i always have.” you sniffle. you know that he believes you deserve a more harsh punishment, but he could never bring himself to it–just the thought of that makes you want to cry even more, because you know he loves you far more than you love him.

“you deserve worse."

“i know.” you weep.

with ease, sunday slips off his gloves in mere seconds, then lining his fingers up at your entrance, teasing your wet folds. your hips buck towards him, trying to get more friction in between your thighs–and he pushes them in. his fingers pump in and out, deep inside, buried inside your pussy. you moan and whine, still loving how good he makes you feel. “do you only love me for this?” “i.. i don’t love you at all.” you cry. well, now you’re just lying to yourself. sunday brings himself closer to your face as he continues to pleasure you, seeing every part of your face twitch in satisfaction.

his eyes flutter down to your lips, and lightly pecks them–those small pecks turning into long, passionate kisses. with a furrowed brow from all the pleasure, you give in and kiss him back. your tongues tie and twist around each other, eliciting moans from one another. tears continue to drip down your face like a continuous babbling creek, dribbling down your cheeks, all the way to drop from your chin. he kept on thrusting his fingers up your cunt, until you came all over them. waves and jolts crash and strike through you as you ride out your orgasm on his digits. he pulls away, both his fingers and lips, to see how pretty the view was—and how beautiful the moonlight looked on your face. “you’re beautiful.” you look down, averting his eyes full of sorrow. “stop.” you might as well close your eyes shut—as he could just make you look up. but he could also just make you open your eyes, there’s no winning here.

you’re forced to look back up at him, chin pinched between his index and thumb. the prolonged eye contact was nerve-wracking. “i’ll let you go.” “what? no—i’ll stay.” sunday rushes in to embrace you, it was uncalled for. even after what you just did together, it seemed weird to you to be this close after everything you had told him. “i don’t think you mean that.” he’s persistent on this, whether you’re telling the truth or not, he’d ignore it. “i really do.” your words seem truthful, laced with falseness. still caught in his embrace, you nudge him away the best you can—but he won’t let go, he needs you so badly, needs you wrapping him up from head to toe.

“oh god, i love you.” you blurt out randomly. it was then when he let go. he almost collapses after hearing what he was longing for from you, even if it were fake. you pant and sigh in between kisses, unable to catch your breath. “you mean it?” “..yeah.” maybe he could ignore the truth behind your lies for now, and bask in the bliss of your false affection, if it means you’ll stay with him forever.

@ dvmbification ( formerly dumbification ) . do not repost or recycle my work.

[leeny-leens]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x afab!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, nsfw, sub!Theo, choking, oral ( m receiving), unprotected p in v, begging, edging, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, generally very nsfw, all characters are 19+!!! lmk if sth else needs to be tagged, not proofread or edited

Content: established relationship, some angst but it's for the plot I swear, fluff, smut (duh)

WC: 3.5k (i got ever so slightly carried away, oops?)

AN: Been thinking about sub!Theo lately... pls be gentle it's my first time writing extensive smut like this IM NERVOUS AND IF YOU KNOW ME NO YOU DONT/j

bf!Theo who has known control and precision all his life. He bears it all with a blank face, constantly keeping track of every little detail in his life simultaneously to the point you wonder if he's really human or not with the way he withstands the sheer pressure of just existing as himself.

bf!Theo who takes the lead in every situation no matter and seems perfectly content to be the one to dedicate and control how things are, down to the most miniscule detail. Growing up in the Nott family has taught him it's either control or be controlled; he refuses to be the second option ever again.

bf!Theo who seems to not know the word overwhelmed and continues on with his maddingly calculative and meticulous nature long after your Hogwarts days end. His habits and his hardened need for control follow him into adulthood, once he dips his toes into the treacherous waters of the business world.

bf! Theo who works day and night, to the point you worry he'll burn himself out repeatedly but he always just waves the concern off with a half smirk, stating that he got everything under control.

bf!Theo who does have everything under control- until it becomes too much and he starts crumbling under the weight. Missed deadlines here, papers and reports that haven't been handed in yet there, a flurry of complaints and projects that drag his attention out well into the early morning hours. It simply becomes too much and for the first time in his life he doesn't know how to handle it.

bf!Theo who's been holed up at the Nott enterprises for weeks now, only ever catching mere moments to himself before the next thing demands his attention. Meeting after meeting, complaint after complaint. His attention is wearing thin and so is his tolerance. For weeks now you've only managed to catch glimpses of him around your shared apartments. He leaves before you wake and arrives home when you're fast asleep; some days he falls asleep on his desk back in the office and wakes up only to resume working.

bf!Theo who misses you like there's no tomorrow and the moment an opportunity arises he finds himself sprinting home, longing to gaze at your face and spend time with you. When he walks through the door, you're humming along to the music that's playing and with a pang of guilt he realizes he doesn't recognize the song. It's your favourite singer, but a song he assumes is either new or a new favourite of yours and he was much too busy to find out or notice.

bf!Theo who immediately abandons everything he was holding to wrap you in a tight embrace, catching you off guard by his sudden appearance. He doesn't say a word; simply holds you as close as humanly possible and breathes in the scent of you. The scent of home.

bf!Theo who's much too tired to protest when you gently but firmly guide him into your shared bedroom, plopping down obediently on the bed when you gesture for him to take a seat. He watches as you rummage through your dresser, grabbing a few items before you disappear into the bathroom. The whine of protest he's about to let out dies in his throat as soon as he hears the sound of running water, his exhaustion addled brain finally catching up to what you are attempting to do. When you re-enter the bedroom and take his hand, the only thing he can do is follow you and let you guide every movement he makes. You help him out of his clothes before watching him sink into the filled bathtub.

bf!Theo who lets out the tiniest sound of relief at the sensation of warm water lapping against his tense muscles, slowly letting his body relax and the tension seeps out of him. He closes his eyes, relishing every second of attention and care you pour into carding through his hair as you lather it up to wash it. He's almost reluctant to get out of the bathtub after you finish your massaging and washing, but does it anyway at the promise of spending time together.

bf!Theo who melts into your touch when you dry his hair for him, sounds of satisfaction and sighs of relief echoing in your room the entire time. When you're done, he tugs you down to lay with him and for once he doesn't protest when you coax him into laying on your chest, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck as you continue to gently scratch his scalp.

bf!Theo who hums happily when you begin telling him about your day -days really, he hasn't had the chance to talk to you in forever- in hushed soothing whispers. He's positive he could fall asleep right there and then with how relaxed and at ease he feels, his mind quiet for the first time in forever. It's almost like he's wrapped in cotton, all sounds and sensation muffled by a soft warm layer that is only penetrated by the sound and feel of you.

bf!Theo who whines when your hand begins rubbing tiny circles across his back, moving lower and lower until it rests on his tailbone. You're not doing it on purpose, he's sure of it, but his body and mind are just so sensitive and wound up from weeks of stress and loneliness, they react to you all by themselves.

bf!Theo who just about chokes when he feels your lips grazing his ear in a gentle kiss, your whispered "Does this feel okay, darling?" sending him into a frenzied state. The only thing he can manage is a weak nod, his grip around your stomach tightens with every touch on his back. His undoing however is when you slip your hands under his sweater, caressing his skin as if he's your most prized possession you're too scared to break. His shuddering breathes draw out an amused giggle out of you, and for a moment you consider teasing him. You withdraw your hand, just for a moment, and his protest is instant. He looks up at you, ocean eyes wide and pleading, so out of character for your usual self assured lover. So of course, you oblige him with no hesitation, all too excited to explore this new side of him. You utilize both of your hands now, using them to draw patterns and trace muscles across his back and stomach and you're rewarded with the sweetest sounds you could ever imagine. Anytime you stop, he nudges his nose against your throat, silently asking for more until his writhing under your touch, squirming when your cold fingers skim the particularly sensitive skin of his waist.

bf!Theo who feels his mind cloud with desire and arousal, but his mouth just won't cooperate with him to express that. All he can do is let out choked whimpers and sighs from the torturous ministrations, and perhaps you might be salvation in human form because you cradle his face, catching his gaze sympathetically as your thumbs ghost along the apples of his cheeks. "Do you want to continue my love, or would you rather we stop and cuddle?" you ask sweetly, your voice levelled with so much affection he thinks he might dissolve on the spot. It takes a few seconds for him to answer, but when he does it's an enthusiastic yes. You don't give him the time to try to take the lead now, you push him off your chest gently before flipping him onto his back, your legs straddling his waist as you peer down at him with a grin. Perhaps it's the exhaustion or that stupor he finds himself in, but his movements are sluggish and the inability to coordinate his body the way he usually would weighs him down. You don't mind one bit however, already dead set on taking care of him tonight in every way possible. Your hands tug his sweater upwards over his head, the soft thud when it lands against the floor almost imperceptible when his breathing is growing more erratic with every second.

sub!Theo who's not quite sure how to wrap his mind around the current situation. You've taken charge in the bedroom before of course, but it had always been him who held the higher ground, who let you take control but still held the reins no matter what. When the cool air hits his exposed skin, the goose bumps that appear across his arms and chest are brought on by the reality of how utterly vulnerable he is right now. You don't fail to take notice of it though, quietly reaching down to caress his face. "It's okay, I'll take care of you yeah?" he can only manage a subtle nod, his pride hindering him from giving you a vocal answer. That doesn't last particularly long however, not when your hands are roaming every inch of his body, pinching and soothing the skin in the most sensitive spots. It's a delight to your ears, witnessing your boyfriend so vocal and at your mercy, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if this is how he feels when he has you under him.

sub!Theo who can only manage a strained gasp when you snap the elastic band of his sweatpants, his hips bucking up involuntarily, almost like he's begging you to take them off. And like you promised, you make sure to take care of him by pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. He kicks his feet in an attempt to help you get rid of them, but your hand on his thigh stills all movements. "Keep them there, it's okay," you note, your eyes glued on his erect dick. You slowly inch down, lowering yourself until your mouth is ghosting over the weeping angry red tip.

sub!Theo who lets out the most delicious moan you've ever heard when your tongue licks tentatively at it, his sensitivity at an all time high from how long he'd denied himself any sort of release in favor of getting work done. With one last glance cast towards him, you open your mouth and take his entire length into your throat, your tongue flat against the thick vein on the underside that you knew drove him crazy. He twitches underneath you, hips bucking from the sudden flurry of sensations but you're firm in your decision to keep the reins in your hand this time. Both of your hands dig into the muscle of his hips, holding them down with enough pressure you know will bring forth bruises tomorrow, but neither of you would mind. For a second, you release his dick from the confines of your mouth, long enough for you to glare at him. "Don't move," you say sternly, and when he doesn't give you a verbal answer, you dig your nails lightly into his skin. "I want an answer, Theo," you were playing cruel, you knew that, but you wanted to be sure he could play along to the tune you set. When you hear a strangled "Yes," you return to your task of giving him the mind numbing pleasure he deserves.

sub!Theo who's trying his best to be still when your head is bobbing up and down, sucking and licking like there's no tomorrow. He's convinced you're to get revenge for something he's done to anger you, because the pace you set is a constant switch between torturously slow and agonizingly fast. He falls apart around your mouth, letting out a string of incoherent and muffled noises at your unpredictable pace. The warmth of your mouth around him drives him positively crazy and he finds himself getting closer and closer with every second. He feels the pleasure build up and coil tighter in his abdomen, and just as he's about to be driven over the edge, you cease all movement and completely still around him.

sub!Theo who lets out a pathetically loud whine at the sudden loss of stimulation, his eyes glossing over from sheer frustration. It doesn't help that you remove your mouth with a lewdly loud pop! finally meeting his heated gaze with an innocent smile. You straddle his waist once more, completely ignoring his twitching dick just a few inches below you and coo at the pitiful expression he dons. "Awww, did my baby wanna cum on my lips?" you ask with faux sympathy. He knows you're mocking him, and that sends a jolt through him that goes straight to his painfully hard dick. He's not used to being on the receiving end of mockery and torture, and a small part of him is horrified at how much he enjoys it. That part however is much too weak to fight against the rest of him; the part that wants you to give him more.

sub!Theo who pouts when you laugh at him, torn between trying to finish the job himself or putting himself through more of the torture. He doesn't have to make a decision however, or rather the ability to do so is taken away from him like much of his independence tonight. You lean forward, one hand clutching his shoulder gently and the other wraps itself around his throat loosely, nowhere near enough for it to be actually restrictive, but the weight of it does all the work. His breath hitches ever so slightly, his pupils widening when he stares up at you with lustful anticipation. "C'mon, use your words darling," you taunt him, tightening your grip ever so slightly, "Aren't you always so talkative? What happened? Too horny to think straight?"

sub!Theo who struggles to find the words, sentences coming out in a blabbering mess that prompts another condescending laugh at the state an unfinished blowjob left him. "Please?" he brings out, his voice breaking when your thumb skims along his pulse point. "Please what, Theo? I want a full sentence sweetheart," you drawl, and it takes everything in him to remain still and stare into your eyes. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and the burning shame that pools in the pits of his stomach only adds fuel to his arousal. "Please- I wanna cum so bad, amore," the last remains of his pride go straight through the window when your hand curls around his throat in a tight grip, not enough to bruise, but enough to restrict his breathing. He doesn't know if the dizziness is from the sudden lack of oxygen or the way you hum, satisfied to know you've broken him into a malleable mess.

sub!Theo who almost cums at the sight of you quickly discarding your clothes, the urgency in your moves spurring his anticipation. He stills completely when you position your cunt just above his cock, watching as you run your fingers through your soaked folds. The soft sighs you let you above him sound like music to his ears. He oh so desperately wants to feel you around him, but he remains patient and waits for you to do whatever you want to him. His impatience grows however, when you sink two fingers into your dripping entrance, your head thrown back into a quiet moan that he wishes would be because of his cock and not your fingers. It's almost like he's become invisible beneath you, and so he begins to stir. "Patience," you mumble under your breath "Just a bit- ah- just a bit more."

sub!Theo who can't help his reflexes when you finally sink onto his dick, inch after inch buried into your slick pussy. His hands fly up to grab your hips, but you smack them away before he has a chance to feel your skin. "Hands above your head if you want me to continue," you warn sharply, pleased with the way he immediately obeys the command. As if to reward him for his behaviour, you lean forward ever so slightly, the change of angle pleasurable for the both of you, and steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other wrapped around his throat once more. The delightful squeeze matches the way your pussy clenches around him, sending his body into overdrive. He doesn't think it could somehow become worse, but when you finally begin to move your hips up and down with practiced ease, squeezing your hand in the same rhythm, all be can do is moan and whimper helplessly. His arms twitch, much too eager to grab onto something to brave the stimulation, but he finds nothing and lays there unable to move.

sub!Theo who goes blank the moment praise starts spilling from your lips. "Fuck you feel so good baby, fillin' me up so we'll," you moan, lost in the haze of pleasure. That's what breaks the camels back, the tears he'd worked hard to hold back at first spill from his beautiful eyes and the sigh stuns you enough to halt for a moment. With renewed vigour, you begin to quicken your pace in the way you knew he liked it, the stimulation driving him mad with want. The sigh of him helplessly writhing and crying beneath you, yet holding on because he wanted to do what you asked, is an incredible turn on; one that has you spilling praise like it's a rushing stream of water. "Ah- fuck you like letting me ride you like this? Like the way I'm making you cry like a bitch? Fuck I wish you could see how pretty you look like this," between your words, your unrelenting pace, the feel of your walls tightening around him and the lack of oxygen he finds himself catapulted to the edge, almost tipping over unexpectedly.

sub!Theo who lets out broken moans and whines while he tells you he's close, his entire body twitching with the need for release but he's holding back, waiting for you to let him cum. "Just a bit, can ya do that for me sweet boy?" you ask, sweat coating your skin as you keep your pace, feeling that familiar throbbing tightness in your belly. He nods frantically, blinking the tears away as he willed his breathing to become steady. "That's my boy," you cooed, "That's it, just breathe f'me like a good boy."

sub!Theo who sobs when you call him a good boy, his self restraint non existent as he begins to twitch inside of you, the tell tale sign of his impending release. You squeeze your hand tightly around his neck, clenching your walls around him and immediately, you feel spurs of white ropes spilling inside of you. He comes undone with a broken sob, your own release following mere seconds after. It's one of the most intense orgasms either of you has had, and for a dizzying moment the entire world fades into blinding white pleasure. With a few more thrusts, you ride your highs out until you slowly push yourself up, feeling the way his cum trickles down your thighs.

sub!Theo who goes limp and can barely think or move, his mind a completely barren canvas with nothing going on. The only thing on his mind is you and how much he craves your presence. He almost begins to cry again when you get up, but with gentle shushing and whispered promises of return, he finds himself calming down. You disappear into the bathroom, returning with a small basket where you keep your so-called clean up kit. You use the towels to clean the both of you up, tsking at him when he attempts to get up. "No, tonight is my turn to take care of you," you affirm, and he simply obliges, letting you do the work while gently peppering kisses across his face and body.

sub!Theo who nuzzles into you when you're both finally settled in bed, letting all tension and exhaustion fall away as you whisper sweet nothings and love confession. He doesn't trust himself to talk, the weight of the vulnerability he'd just displayed heavy on his heart, but for now he gives himself the luxury of forgetting and simply enjoys your presence. Your affection and care stirs something deep inside him, and he finds himself letting it wrap around him like a warm blanket until he slips into the first deep and pleasant sleep he's had in weeks.

[gyratingpresley]

I expect you to make me a daddy.

Warnings: Smut smut smut...

This is just a little something to keep you going until I publish the next chapter for you're mine. If you do want to be tagged in my future stories let me know. Have a good read babies.

Elvis had been busy with his shows in Vegas, and the colonel had been working him like a dog, but he finally managed to convince the devil to let him come home to Graceland for a while. Ever since he came home, you two had spent every day together. He has always been the possessive type, never wanted you to leave the house without him, unless he knew where you were 24/7. Recently, Elvis had been waking up to an empty bed, so he adopted a new tactic that was falling asleep on your lap, trapping you in bed. It was annoying, but you enjoyed being close to him. You practically had to beg him to let you up for the bathroom.

A few days ago, you had agreed to go out for a drive with the rest of the mafia to shop for clothes. You had been nagging Elvis since he finally said you could on one condition, you come and stay in Vegas when he goes back. So here you were the morning of the day, you were lying in bed, stuck. Reading pride and prejudice with a smile on your face.

The rough pages of the book rustled as you turned them, the spine cracking every time you opened and closed it. You were so deep into the book, you hardly realized the heavy footsteps leading to your door. "Y/n! You comin' for a drive still? The boys are waiting. " Charlie. Elvis's right hand man, he was knocking on the door to the bedroom you and Elvis shared. You flited your eyes to the closed door and the man in your lap. "Yeah, comin' Charlie!" You called back, unfortunately disrupting the sleeping beauty, his hands curled around your waist as he shuffled around. He groaned. The sun streamed in through the long linen curtains, its warmth heating up your pink cheeks. "Elvis, come on, I gotta' get up." You ran the pads of your fingers through his hair, eliciting a moan from his lips. "Don't you move, little girl." Elvis growled, gripping the inside of your thigh, he pulled it to his mouth, you gasped as his teeth sunk into it. He then moved his mouth further up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the skin.

"Elvis, stop, I need to get up." You run your fingers down his bare back.

"They can wait." He places a kiss to the lacy fabric of your underwear.

"Daddy's hungry."

His long fingers tuck under the waist band of your panties, he pulled them down slightly, placing a kiss to your womb.

Elvis has always had a yearning to make you pregnant, have you carry his baby. He had enough, he didn't want to keep pumping his cock to the thought of you with a swollen belly and full breasts, he wanted to see it, the life growing inside of you. Elvis groaned at the thought.

"What?" You cupped his face, bringing it up to look at you.

He hummed, "Take these off." The sharp edge of his nail trailed along your panties. "Not now baby." You push his hand away, wrong move. Elvis' eyes darken, he sits up, throwing your book onto the floor as his other hand ripped the delicate fabric of your underwear. You squealed as he grasped your thighs, forcing them apart. The force he was using caused you to fall back onto the soft pillows. "Elvis!" You struggled against him as he blew on your wet cunt. The cold air tickled something inside of you. You pulled at the sheets, trying to pull his head back away from your naked bottom half. Elvis shot one arm up to hold your hands above your head, the other pressing down on your pelvis keeping you down. He looked up at you.

"Quiet." His voice was low, it ran shivers up your spine.

As soon as his mouth touched your clit every fuck you gave crumbled away, it was just you and him. You moaned into the pillow, biting into it. His tongue worked your clit, sucking it and releasing it with a pop. He groaned into your pussy, thrusting his tongue in, he imagines you are pregnant with his child, all swollen and round, your breasts waiting to taken care of. He licks a stripe down your folds, just to thrust his tongue back in. Elvis stopped, bringing his hands down to part your thighs further, he sits up pulling his white boxer shorts down, his erect cock springing out. "Elvis, baby, people will hear! The boys are downstairs." You whispered. "Then you better keep your mouth shut? Huh little girl?" He pressed his red tip to your entrance, slowly pushing in. "Ah!" You squeal adjusting to his size, your never get use to it, Elvis smiles slyly, he leans down capturing your lips with his, his tongue moves along yours as he begins to thrust in, you moan into his mouth. He pulls back, curing his hands around your waist as he pulled almost all the way out, just to fill you up to the hilt.

The sounds of skin clapping together filled the air, the room smelt of sex. The sounds leaving you were almost pornographic as he pounded into you. "Oh! God! Fuck yes!" You scream out, Elvis picks up your hand, kissing your palm. "You gonna carry my baby? Hm?" He growls into your palm, you nod vigorously, gasping as he groped your breasts. The guys downstairs stopped their conversations as soon as they heard your cries of pleasure. Charlie ran his hand down his face, chuckling "Looks like she ain't comin' down any time soon." The rest of Elvis's mafia laughed as they all walked out the door. Elvis twisted you around, his hands gripping your hips. "That's it baby, you can do it, come on." He kissed your back, thrusting into you relentlessly. You gripped the headboard groaning as Elvis pushed himself deeper, "Oh!" You gasped, his fingers had found their way to your swollen clit, rubbing circles. "Cum for me." He spanked your ass, plowing into you now. The moans that left your mouth fueled his pleasure, tightening the feeling his in stomach. "Fuck!" He yelled out. The coil building in your stomach tightened as he thrusted in twice more before spilling his seed into you. You chased your own release, replacing Elvis's fingers with yours.

Elvis pulled out, you whined at the loss.

He pat your ass, his laugh sending a chill up your body.

"I expect you to make me a daddy." He hummed as he shoved the leaking cum back inside you.

It's just a small one shot (or is it...) to keep you going. Let me know if you want to be tagged in my work!

Tagged:

@redwitchbitch1

<333

[sh4nksslvt]

Perfect pair

Y/n lands on the forsaken island of Kuraigana, crossing paths with the world’s greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk.

PART 1 OF READER WHO CAN USE THE INFINITY STONES

dracule mihawk x reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: mihawk

tags: fluff, sfw, soft, lots of v!ol3nce

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

words count: 968

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Kuraigana Island was a corpse of a land.

Fog hung like a wet cloth. Gnarled trees clawed at a grey sky. Castles lay in ruin. Crows perched on broken battlements, staring like tiny, judgmental gods. The humandrills lurked in the shadows, half-watching, half-measuring you with the unsettling intelligence of creatures that knew too much and bowed to nothing.

You arrived with no fanfare — a split in space, a ripple in air, and there you stood.

The swordsman was already waiting.

Golden eyes sharp as his blade, Dracule Mihawk took you in without surprise. Just a flick of his gaze, the briefest narrowing of lids.

“You’re not from here.”

“...”

A beat. Then a faint smirk.

“State your business.”

You glanced around. The entire island radiated don’t bother, but you liked the silence.

“Needed a place to land.”

Mihawk regarded you a moment longer, then turned away.

“Don’t get in my way.”

You didn’t answer. You never did.

There he stood, placing the wine aside. Up close, he was taller than you expected, broad-shouldered and impossibly composed, moving like liquid death. The sort of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room.

“I don’t know where you came from,” he said, approaching with unhurried grace, “but I can tell you this island is no place for a traveler. It devours the weak.”

“I’m not weak.”

Something in his eyes sharpened. “Prove it.”

A sword materialized in his hand—a black-bladed cross almost as tall as you were.

You didn’t blink.

He smirked, and in a blur of movement, brought the blade down.

You raised a hand.

The world stuttered. Time hiccupped.

His strike slowed to a crawl, the blade inches from your face.

“Cute,” you murmured, tilting your head. You could feel the hum of cosmic power rising within you.

With a flick of your wrist, you stepped out of sync with the moment. Time resumed, his blade cleaving harmlessly through empty air.

You were leaning against a column now.

“Done?” you asked, voice flat.

Mihawk turned, eye narrowing. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

“Well, Aren’t you interesting.”

Days bled together.

Mihawk didn’t ask you to leave, and you didn’t offer. He trained in the ruins. You wandered. A routine of unspoken tolerance.

Occasionally, the hum of his blade slicing the mist would pause as you flexed space to pluck fruit from high branches, reversed time to catch a falling stone before it shattered, or made entire sections of the crumbling wall rebuild themselves just for fun.

Once, a particularly bold baboon lunged at you. Mihawk turned just in time to see it dissolve into stardust.

You held its still-beating heart in your palm for a moment, then let it fall.

The humandrills kept their distance after that.

He said nothing, but his eyes followed you longer after that.

He asked about your powers one evening, rare curiosity threading his tone.

You sat by a fire you didn’t need, lazily manipulating the flame into twisting shapes.

“Are you a god?”

You considered it. “Complicated.”

He hummed. “Good. I hate gods.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “Noted.”

Tension hung between you like fine wire. Neither speaking it. Neither breaking it.

When pirates landed, drunk on courage and legends of Mihawk’s title, you watched from a stone wall.

Twenty men.

They charged.

Mihawk moved like death made flesh, blade a dark glimmer. He cut through them like wind through leaves.

One survivor crawled toward you, gasping, reaching.

You tilted your head.

The man froze. His body peeled apart into strings of light, unraveling like an old tapestry.

Mihawk watched, bloodied and silent.

You met his gaze. “Messy work.”

He smirked. “Efficient.”

Weeks later, a storm hit.

Lightning split the sky. Waves devoured the shore.

A galleon, unfamiliar flag, shattered against the cliffs.

Mihawk and you stood at the shore. Bodies in the water. Survivors clinging to wreckage.

“Yours?” you asked.

He shook his head.

A captain, foolish and loud, cursed and called Mihawk out by name.

Mihawk’s blade lifted — but you stepped past him.

A simple gesture. A ripple in reality.

The ocean bent, swallowing the survivors. The ship’s remains vanished, leaving only empty, perfect water.

Silence.

“You stole my kill,” Mihawk said.

You shrugged. “They bored me.”

He stared at you a long moment, then laughed. Low, rare.

“Stay,” he said.

You did.

Because for once, you weren’t bored.

One dusky evening, Mihawk invited you on a hunt.

“A nuisance on a nearby island,” he said. “A former Warlord pretending to hold dominion.”

You quirked a brow. “And you need me?”

“I don’t need anyone,” he replied smoothly. “But you might amuse me.”

You smirked and stepped through a portal, Mihawk following.

The island was a lush jungle, overrun with hostile fauna and even more hostile men.

They expected Mihawk. They didn’t expect you.

One tried to cleave your head from behind.

You stopped time.

Walked around the frozen scene, plucking the man’s weapon away, rewinding his attempted strike into a trip and face-first fall into mud.

When time resumed, Mihawk didn’t flinch, but you caught the slight twitch of his lip.

“You enjoy showing off.”

“I enjoy being alive.”

You flicked a finger. Space warped around a group of enemies, their bodies crushed into a single, compacted orb of air before disappearing.

Mihawk cut down the rest, his precise strikes a sharp contrast to your cosmic chaos.

Afterward, the island was silent save for the wind and the cawing of carrion birds.

Mihawk sheathed his sword.

“You might be dangerous company.”

“You might be boring,” you countered.

Another smirk. “Then we’ll keep testing that.”

You stepped back into Kuraigana’s misty air together.

The humandrills stared harder than usual.

And you, for the first time in centuries, considered the notion of staying.

[the-kr8tor]

Another idea (last request i give for your apothecary, which wont be surprising)

Rose hips and ⭐️

Maybe—

Maybe, after the cycle broke. After hobie kills the beast that tormented him and the person he loved. Maybe fate simply had other plans than what the beast had it seem out to be with hobie and r?

(I dont fully know where you could go with this but i 100% trust all katy processes, besides i always wanted to know after fae hobie killed the beast and finally got his vegeance he needed after seeing r die over and over until she finally picked berries. Think fae hobie needs more time with her or another chance to see her again, even if it isnt the her he once loved)

Fae! Hobie my beloved 😍 I hope you like it!

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), based around my The Fall series, fae AU, cw violence mention, cw blood, hurt/comfort

One year celebration 🎉

Navigation

Hobie stands there in the guts and grime of his fallen enemies laying at his feet. Their blood still pulses with warmth, but he knows that they're done. That he did it all for you.

All those countless lives that he lived with you, all ending the same way— with him holding your limp body. This was all for that.

The vines around his arms no longer slither around his skin, now they wither and die just like him. And just like you, he falls. His knees hit the crimson pool, adding his own to the flowing rubies. He looks up at the iridescent sky, pearlescent and beautiful. You'd love it here, and he'd love it if you were beside him in the end. But you're long gone now, body laying amongst the flowers in his abode, just like how you would've liked it.

As he crumbles in place, skin cracking and crumbling, succumbing to all his injuries from the hundreds of fights he had to go through to finish it all, he sees your face in his vision.

Walking amongst the blood and gore, you slowly get closer to him. The crimson doesn't stick to your skin, nor the white of your gown, instead you flow atop it, and he knows you're there to see him.

“Hi, love.” His clover, his rose, his fern, you might've taken a thousand names and looked different in every life, but he loved you in every version of you. Even though you're merely a ghostly version of yourself, he knows that it's you. “‘ere to see me one last time?”

You shake your head, a fog covering your face as you kneel before him. “No, I'm here to pick you up, Hobie.”

“Yeah?” He asks, golden eyes brimming with warmth and tears. “Despite everythin'?”

You reach for his cheek, a feather light touch, like sunshine caressing his skin, and he feels your warmth, one that he hasn't felt in a long time since he went through the journey. The fog obscuring your face fades away, and he sees you— the very first one that he fell for. He never thought he'd see you like this— wearing the face he most revered.

He knows that he's correct this whole time, that despite everything, despite the hundreds of years of the cycle churning, it has always been you.

“Despite everything, my love. Are you ready to come home with me?”

“I've been ready,” Hobie takes your wrist, feeling his body fall apart like a marble statue chiseled by your hands. “You'll be there with me the whole time?”

“Like always.”

As you embrace him in your light, he lays himself against you, eyes closing, and finally falling to eternity with you.

[mari-positas]

lost on you l a safe haven drabble

series masterlist

summary: You’re missing Joel and a certain mare seems to be picking up on your sadness—or at least that’s what you think is happening when there’s a sudden change in her behavior. Why else would Stella be acting so strange around you?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. angst, horses, and a lil more angst. reader’s pregnancy is lightly being implied, but it has not been explicitly stated yet, only hinted at. no Joel, he is only mentioned in this one. Dina makes an appearance, i threw in some comedic moments to try and balance out the angst. ends with a horsey hug.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: so this is meant to be as a bit of a filler fic before chapter 9 is posted and shit hits the fan. i knew i wanted to do a short drabble that touches on how reader is doing after the confrontation she had with Joel. i also asked people to send in short prompts for the series to do some no pressure writing exercises, and this particular prompt that was sent in was just incredible and i decided to incorporate it. It makes me nervous to post a fic with no Joel in it, but my heart wanted to write it so fuck it, I just wrote it. chapter 9 is almost done and will be posted soon. @eyesneverbeensoblue i hope it’s okay to tag you in this and tell you thank you so much for the idea!

Lately, I’m getting lost on you

I tore your world apart like it was nothing new

every day I’m a slave to the heartache…

Summer slowly, but surely comes to an end.

The days are long, but the nights without Joel?

They’re even longer, at least, that’s how it feels.

You miss him. Oh God, how you fucking miss Joel Miller.

He’s all you can ever think about.

Every second of every minute of every single day.

You miss Joel so much that it physically hurts. Every part of you just aches for him. Aches. 

Your insides feel like they’re on fire, and you can't put it out.

The heartache is agonizing, almost unbearable—it’s unlike anything you have ever felt before.

In front of others, you hold it together pretty well. But when you’re alone, behind closed doors? 

That’s when you fall apart. Crumble into pieces.

Losing Joel is something you will never heal from. Never.

Traces of himself he’d left behind—would you ever be able to wipe yourself clean of them? Of him? Or would you have to spend the rest of your damn life trying to get over the man who fucking adored the hell out of you and who loved you so unconditionally?

“He misses you, you know,” Ellie says, quietly. She stands beside you and diligently runs a hard, bristled hand brush along Jasper’s side to clear his golden coat of dirt and debris. The palomino is just one of several horses that needed tending to after that morning’s patrol shift. Realizing you’re too busy jotting down notes in Jasper’s handwritten file you keep for him—you kept a file for every single horse in the commune—Ellie clears her throat and then speaks again, louder this time. “He misses you.”

You wince and stop mid scribble.

“Ellie—” you trail off, your throat going dry.

Even though you’d asked her about a hundred and one times not to talk about Joel, Ellie was hellbent on bringing him up to you as often as she could. At first, it seemed innocent enough. She stuck to just letting you know how his recovery was going.

“His shoulder’s healing really well.” 

“Donna came over to help with physical therapy.” 

“He’ll be back on patrol in a couple of weeks.” 

So you’d given her a pass. Besides, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to know how he was healing after his injury.

However, Ellie then began to wander into more sensitive and dangerous territory.

“He asked me about you.” 

“He was drinking again last night.” 

“He looks so fucking miserable.” 

You know why she’s doing it.

It’s not to make you feel guilty for hurting Joel.

Hell, she knows that you’re hurting just as badly. She loves you and she loves Joel—the two people Ellie cares about more than anything are suffering without each other.

You hate that she’s essentially been pulled right into the middle of this mess that you’ve created.

Ellie is collateral damage. This is all hurting her too.

“He misses you a lot,” she adds after a minute.

You exhale sharply. Her words feel like a punch to the gut and they knock the wind out of your lungs.

Finally, you look up from your clipboard, turning to her. “Ellie,” you say her name warningly. “Stop it. We’re not going to do this today. Okay?”

“I’m just saying,” she mumbles, placing a hand on Jasper’s side. “If someone was missing me, I think I would want to fucking know.”

You feel the lump steadily rising in your throat.

“Ellie, please don’t—”

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!”

The sound of Dina’s voice fills the horse stables.

The teenager whips herself into Jasper’s stall, skidding to a stop in front of you, sweaty and breathless, as if she had just run across the settlement.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She apologizes, setting her bag down on the ground. Pulling a scrunchie from the back pocket of her jeans, she throws her long, black hair into a messy bun as she explains herself. “Talia asked me to help her out in the library this morning and I totally lost track of time. And then on the way over here, I bumped into Mrs. Miller as she was walking home from the market and I mean, I could not just let a pregnant lady carry all those heavy bags across town—”

“Dina, breathe, sweetheart.” You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay. As long as you show up, that’s all I care about. Especially since Tommy and Maria moved Logan to patrol duty. That’s another stable hand gone, so I need all the help I can possibly get around here.” Slipping your clipboard under your arm, you glance from Dina to Ellie. The emotions from what had happened just seconds before your niece had run in are bubbling, threatening to boil over. “Listen, I have to go do a routine examination on Stella. Finish up with grooming Jasper. I have a couple of horses that are due for baths—Luna and Bandit. Then it’s feeding time. Got it?”

Dina smiles brightly. “We’ll take care of it, won’t we, El?”

Sensing your urgency to leave, Ellie gives a subtle, small nod of her head. “Yeah. We will.”

“Good. I’ll come check on you girls when I’m done with Stella.” Spinning around on the muck caked heel of your boot, you hastily leave Jasper’s stall and nearly fly all the way down the stables and into Stella’s.

You rush inside, closing the top and bottom half of the Dutch door before sagging back against the wood. You toss your clipboard aside on the floor of the stall and lift both your hands, covering your face as you choke back sobs of pure agony.

He misses you. 

As you will yourself to keep yourself from falling apart, you feel a warm muzzle dig lightly into your lower stomach. Dropping your hands from your face, you glance up only to see Stella peering at you with clear and unmistakable curiosity in her big brown eyes.

“Hi there, my gorgeous girl,” you murmur softly to the pregnant mare. A tear slips out from the corner of your eye and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand.

Stella lowers her head and sniffs at your stomach, right where she had dug into you. Her ears prick forward and she nuzzles the same spot again.

You shoot her a strange look. You’ve never seen her exhibit this type of behavior before.

“Stella, what are you doing?” you ask, almost as if you expect her to speak and give you an answer. “Why are you being so weird?”

Stella sniffs you again, then nips at the hem of your tank top.

“Hey! Cut that out.” You can’t help but let out a watery giggle as you carefully pull the fabric out of her mouth. Realizing the strange behavior must have something to do with the mare sensing the intensity of your negative emotions, you gently place both of your hands on either side of her muzzle. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you slowly exhale it through your mouth before touching your forehead to hers. “I’ll be okay, girl. I’ll be okay. There’s no other choice—I have to be okay.”

An hour later, you’d finished the examination.

Stella had continued to act oddly around you, her behavior becoming more and more peculiar as time went on. You were bonded to her of course—you were bonded to just about every single horse in the commune—and so it didn’t really surprise you that the mare was so in tune with your emotions and could feel that something was off. She was extremely attentive to you as you worked, her eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

Stella also continued to sniff you, nuzzling you in the stomach any chance she had. For as bizarre as it was, it brought you an off sense of comfort and it made you feel less alone.

“Hey auntie.” Dina opens the stall door, poking her head inside. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

She pushes the door open further and walks into the stall with Ellie on her heels. Both of them are almost completely soaked from head to toe. 

Your eyes widen. “Um, girls, I’m pretty sure I told you to bathe the horses—not yourselves.”

Ellie lets out a small scoff. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Bandit wasn’t having it,” Dina chuckles. “But he’s all clean, and so is Luna. We just came in to tell you we’re going to go dry off and change our clothes. We’ll be back for feeding time.” She glances at the mare. “How’s our sweet mama-to-be doing?”

“Good. She’s as healthy as a horse.”

The teenagers roll their eyes, but laugh.

“You’re so lame, auntie.”

“Just a little equine veterinarian humor. My dad used that one on me all the time.” You grin at the memory. “Stella’s doing really well. In about seven or eight months, we’ll have our new baby.”

“Well then, I think someone deserves a little treat since she’s doing so good.” Dina reaches into the bag she has slung over her shoulder and pulls out a crisp, red apple. She walks over, holding the fruit out in the palm of her hand for the horse. “Here you go, girl.”

Stella gives the apple a sniff, then takes it from her. 

Usually, she wolfs it down in just a few chomps—but what she does next surprises all three of you. Apple still between her teeth, the mare turns and pushes her muzzle into your stomach.

“Oh shit,” Ellie cackles. “No fucking way!”

“Oh my god,” Dina grins. “Is she—she’s giving it to you?”

Shocked, you lift a hand and delicately take the apple from between her teeth. “Stella, you silly girl! What are you doing?” You hold it out for her. “This apple is for you, sweetheart. Here, take it.”

She tosses her head in the air.

Dina snorts into her hand. “She just told you no!”

“She wants you to have it.” Ellie shoots you a teasing look. “Come on, princess. Take a bite.”

You look at her, then down at the apple, which is covered completely in Stella’s slobber.

“Um, no thanks. I think I’ll pass,” you mutter. 

“Auntie, don’t be rude,” Dina jokes. “It’s bad manners to refuse her offer.”

Rolling your eyes at your niece, you turn back to Stella and tell her, “I’ll eat it later. When it’s washed.”

“We’re starting to smell like wet horse,” Ellie makes a gagging noise as she takes a whiff of her shirt.

Dina lifts the collar of her blouse to her nose. “Oh, gross. We are starting to smell like wet horse.” She reaches out with her opposite hand, grabbing one of Ellie’s. She laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go change.”

You can’t help but notice the way Dina looks at Ellie—with the sweetest, most adoring little smile.

You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly.

Ellie’s eyes meet yours and she blushes deeply.

If you ever had a chance to give Ellie Williams shit, this was it—but instead, you just give her a subtle wink from where you stand. Her face instantly goes from red to maroon.

“Be sure to be back in an hour for feeding time!” you call as Dina pulls her out of the stall. “I’m not feeding all these horses alone!”

“We will!”

Once the girls are gone, you turn to Stella and wrap your arms around her neck. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up today, pretty girl.”

She rests her head on your shoulder.

You feel more tears coming and hug her harder.

lyrics: Lost on You - Lewis Capaldi

[camaelias]

Sunny Winter Day

CHAPTER 1: The Man Across the Hall

Pairing : Grumpy Winter Soldier x Sunshine Reader

Tags : enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn Author's note : Omg, after more than a decade spent on and off this app, I finally mastered the courage to post something! Please be kind, but feel free to give feedback! especially when I make mistakes, English isn't my first language I hope you'll understand ^^ Okay so, here the story : PLOT :

In a world still reeling from Hydra’s fall and the Avengers' rise, you are a new recruit—a burst of golden light in a team still learning to trust. You have light powers. They call you sunshine, a little too soft for war, a little too bright for shadows.

You thought you were finally safe. A new world, a new life, a place among the Avengers. But danger doesn’t always knock on the front door — sometimes it smiles from the apartment across the hall. And sometimes, the one sent to destroy you is the only one who might just save you.

- Post-Avengers 1, Pre-Ultron. - Steve Rogers and the Winter Soldier have never met before. In this world Bucky Barnes is not yet part of Steve’s memories. - Hydra has been publicly dismantled, but in truth, it still thrives in the shadows.

CHAPTER 2 - The Winter Soldier

*3 WEEKS BEFORE*

The warehouse was falling apart.

It sat half-forgotten on the edge of rural Portugal, by the sea, tucked in the dry sunburnt borderlands near Spain. An old fish storage or something, or at least it smelled like it.

The air was sticky due to the heat, and the thick haze of dust made every inhale feel like chewing concrete. You were already dreaming about a shower and maybe—if the universe had any mercy—air conditioning.

It was a low-priority mission : some civilians reported strange activities at night. Or better, some lads said it was infested by ghosts at night. Shadows, flitting past broken windows. Whispers with no source. The kids would dare each other to throw rocks through the glass and swore they heard something growl back,which, of course, resulted in The Avengers having to check it out.

“Ghosts?” Clint groaned during the morning briefing, already rubbing his temple like it physically hurt “Damn kids. I’ve got two of my own haunting me—don’t need more"

Nat raised an unimpressed brow “And imagine how fun it will be when Nataniel will be joining the band” she grinned

“I need to retire…,” Clint muttered.

Across the room, Tony was pacing in socked feet and snacking on a bowl of blueberries like this was a brunch meeting “Listen, I for once am thrilled for a haunted warehouse. Monaco’s a short hop away; we check for ghosts, no one's actually cursed, I hit the coast in time for espresso—perfect little Thursday”

Steve crossed his arms “Let’s just make sure it’s not another Hydra shell game”

Tony popped a blueberry as he rolled his eyes “Come on, Cap, let me have one fun mission. You already took Halloween from me” 

You hadn’t argued. You’d even cracked a smile.

Now? You were rethinking every choice that led you here.

You moved carefully through the southern wing, the press of silence unnatural and tense. To your left, a wall smothered in old graffiti and jagged glass where windows used to be. The right opened into a cavernous, mostly empty expanse—save for a few nesting rats and a row of massive rusting machines, all hulking in the dark.

You pressed two fingers to your comm. “South section’s clear,” you said “Just rats and trauma vibes"

You didn’t hear the answer, because the wall behind you blew apart.

You didn’t see it coming. No warning. Just heat and force and the unmistakable shriek of crumbling stone. The blast sent you flying forward—air ripped from your chest, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard, and then— everything broke loose. You could hear at least 2 other explotions detonating somewhere on the other side of the warehouse, a few gunshots here and there.

The air turned to static and smoke. Somewhere above, a light fixture swung violently from the ceiling. you staggered to your feet and darted behind a support beam, one hand clamped over your ribs. Blood. Not gushing, but warm. Persistent. Yours. 

“North wall’s compromised,” Nat’s voice crackled through the comms, sharp as a blade “Three down. Someone new on the field. It's Hydra.”

“Visual?” you asked heartbeat kicking up.

Clint’s voice cut in fast “Yeah, tall, broad, moves like he wants to kill the damn ground, metal ar—”

You didn’t hear the rest.

Because a thud like thunder shook the floor, and you felt him before you saw him—something fast and heavy slicing through the smoke behind you. You ducked just in time.

A gleaming metal fist swung clean through the air where your head had just been and obliterated the support pillar behind you. Stone and steel crumpled like wet paper.

You hit the ground and rolled, coming up in a crouch, one hand already sparking with light.

And then—finally—you saw him.

He was built like a battering ram in black tactical gear, every inch of him made for destruction: grenade belt, knives strapped to his thighs, rifle slung tight to his back. A black combat mask covered the lower half of his face, sleek and impersonal, dark goggles covered his eyes. You felt a chill going down your spine. 

His long hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead, his goggles glinted in the fractured light—cold and unreadable.

Your light surged at your fingertips. You flung your hand forward—a blast. Golden light cut through the haze and hit him clean in the chest. He stumbled, boots grinding across the floor, but not down. Not even close.

Then he moved. Fast.

You caught a blur of black and metal and then he was on you, fists flying low, precise, brutal. You dropped to one knee as his fist cut through the air where your head had been, the metal knuckles slamming into the steel beam behind you. Sparks burst. Your hand glowed again—pure heat gathering in your palm—and you shoved upward with a blast that sent both of you flying in opposite directions.

“Dramatic entrance. You always punch first or am I special?” You said as you were getting back on your feet, slightly breathless, hoping to buy yourself some time just enough to figure how to fight whatever that was back. He didn’t answer, clearly not in the mood for chit chat. No witty comeback, no smug taunt—just a silent, brutal charge, knife glinting in his hand like he meant to end this fast. You met him mid-strike. Sparks exploded as his blade met your light-shield, heat searing your forearm. You twisted out of the way, pivoted, kicked up and caught him in the side.

He grunted—barely. No pain. No hesitation.

“Y/N, status” you heard Clint in your comm, and behind his voice a couple of explotions too. “Metal arm guy engaged,” you said as the man in front of you squared you like you were his next meal “So much for ghost stories…”. 

Your breath was starting to be more erratic, your body starting to register the impact of the blast, the hits, the flying-through-the-air-like-a-crash-test-dummy bit. And he, he just kept coming. Silent. Focused. No words, no hesitation. Just a human switchblade set to kill.

Your powers pulsed under your skin, flickering like a faulty wire as you groaned under your breath. It was really time you would learn how to control them. “Gotta go old school I guess…” you muttered. And then you swung.

No light. No glow. Just a good, old-fashioned, bare-knuckled punch backed by months of sparring with Natasha Romanoff. It connected with his jaw. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl through the mask. Then he grabbed your wrist—and threw you like a rag doll.

You hit the ground hard, shoulder catching on loose concrete. You rolled, groaning, and when your palm flared again, you blasted him with everything you had.

But—

It pulled.

Your power pulled back.

Not gone—but hesitant. Like it didn’t want to hurt him.

You stared at your hand, chest rising and falling.

“What the hell,” you whispered.

He stood across from you, silent and sharp, goggles locked onto yours, his chest heaving with heavy, even breaths. The light cut along his frame—tactical black combat gear, a gleaming metal arm etched with intricate lines, knife still in hand, long dark hair pushed back under the strap of his mask.

You were breathing hard. Bleeding. Confused. And by the time you looked back up from your hand he was gone. So fast, so precise, it was like he vanished with the smoke. Like you imagined him.

Little did you know that now he was standing in your kitchen, baby blue mug with little red hearts in hand, flashing you a shy smile. 

Later That Night When James left your apartment, the apartment building was quiet. A soft hum came from the fridge, the light in James’s kitchen was dim, casting half his face in shadow as he leaned one forearm on the counter, a radio device held loosely in his other hand.

His voice was calm. Clipped. Precise.

“She’s warming up. Give it time.”

A pause.

“…No. She doesn’t suspect anything concrete. Just… instincts. I can manage it.”

He clicked the device off.

CHAPTER 3 - Whispers in the wall

[mercuryisfronting]

Hello!! I got tagged by @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal for a writing game! Thank you so much for the tag, I love tags games so much! 🩷

The rules are: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics and then tag 10 people.

My fanfics in order of newest to oldest! Only listing 8 because that’s all I have published and want to look for right now 😂

1. You’re falling. God fucking damn it, you’re falling. For a moment—a breathless, beautiful moment in which the world feels forgiving and kind—everything is weightless and you are falling. The ground comes up fast, ready to plant dozens of concrete kisses across your flesh, and you are desperate and greedy and ready.

2. Thirty years ago today, Julia Ortega was born. You aren’t sure how that is supposed to make you feel. Are you supposed to be impressed? Excited? Grateful? It does slightly amaze you that she has managed to keep herself alive for three entire decades, but once you allocate credit to her mother and modern-day medicine, there’s very little commendation left for Julia herself.

3. Julia is waiting outside again. You can’t help but wonder if she’s getting sick of it. Waiting on you. Waiting for you. As though one of these days you will find the courage to gather up the broken shards of yourself and glue yourself back together. As though it is that easy. As though there is even enough left of you to try.

4. “Sidestep! Down! Marshal Charge’s voice is far away and strained with effort. Running toward you? There’s no time to check. You obey just in time to avoid an armored fist to your skull. The brick wall above you is not so lucky. It crumbles inward at the sheer strength of the hit and you refuse to let yourself imagine what could’ve happened had you been too slow. Nothing good. At least the civilians are all safe inside, far away from danger.

5. Mortum knows. Everything. You never should have told her. Dragging Jane’s body back into her apartment is harder than you thought it'd be. You’d never regretted giving her a home on the second floor until a few hours ago when you had to lift her body over the steps. Jane with her long, lanky limbs that kept falling in awkward places and her seven inches of extra height. Only later did you even think of possessing someone stronger to do it for you. She'd felt dead in your arms, and you suppose that’s because she is. Nearly. Whoever she used to be is gone, at least.

6. You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve known better. You’d never realized just how much influence Anathema had in making a party enjoyable until you walked in and felt their absence like a gaping hole. The glass of wine in your hand serves as a fidget for your hands but does nothing to settle the racing of your thoughts.

7. Breathe. Just. Breathe. To Ortega, your return to Los Diablos was a new lease on life. A second chance. A miracle. She’s wrong, but you wish with every cell in your body that she wasn’t. You don’t have the heart to tell her you have been through this before. Stolen so many second chances that you’re not sure if fate has any left to spare. Surviving the Farm was not a miracle; it was a mistake.

8. It’s too much. …I can’t believe… needs to stop calling… It’s so hot out here… should really just quit… Why am I… Forgot my… Where’s… I love… You pull your shields tighter, but they’re weak from lack of use; a muscle straining under the pressure of a long overdue workout. You did not need shields at the Farm; everyone who interacted with you had the same, expected static. Your mind had been, debatably, yours alone. But not now. Not anymore.

(Forewarning, this one is incomplete and started over a year ago so I need to go through and edit the hell out of it)

I’m tagging at random but if you see this and you’re interested, you’re also tagged and I’d love to see your works. @darkfire1177 @trebuchet151 @dry-ketchup @b33tlejules @dogueteeth-fhr @crowshuh @firststrikerr @ladyshivs

[cielie-voss]

I usually ignor ficus when I see rockstar!eddie but I’ve thought of something. What about reader x rockstar!eddie where you have worked with other bands before in some way so you know those members would never be reliable relationships so you avoided at all costs. But when Eddie meets you and falls hard. He tries so hard to make sure you see that he has never been and would never fall into that stereotype of a rockstar in those times of the 80s. He was truly only passionate about the music . Not even caring if he ever got famous. That’s not his intention like how most bands back then, their members goals were just to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible.

So with you he really tries to win you over so hard, and finally you let your walls crumble for him and he really does prove to you exactly how truth he was from the moment he met you.

No sex and drugs - just rock'n'roll

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x guitarist!Reader

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to be, started over 4 times and accidentally deleted my favorite attempt but here we are! 😄 Hope you like it! 🫶

Warnings: rockstar au, a little bit fluff, some kind of enemies to lovers, some curse words, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, mentions of reader being used by men, smoking, pizza with pineapple (I think this deserves to be mentioned here), not proofread.

Bonus points to everyone who notice my little easter eggs. 😅

Wordcount: 9.9k

Taglist: @violettsoul

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

The road called your name again.

Well, it wasn't exactly your name but rather the name of your and your cousins band - The Sleepless. You’ve been lying in your bed, awake, for at least two hours and watched the dust dancing like little fairies in the golden sunbeams, that successfully fought their way through the gap of your thick curtains.

Ironic, isn't it?

It was still early in the morning, the bustling life of the city was still deep in slumber, with only the occasional roar of an engine cutting through the silence. Unable to find the sweet bliss of some desperately needed sleep, you were alternately watching the fairies dancing in the gentle rays of the rising morning sun and the miserably slow ticking of your clock, which was enthroned above the door and of which you were not quite sure whether the time it showed was correct.

The shrill beeping of your alarm clock saved you from this never ending misery. You sat up and let your legs dangling off the edge of your bed for a moment as you stretched your back. Yawning, you slowly slid off the edge and dragged your feet over to the little corner you called kitchen.

The screeching of the floorboards echoed like a disgruntled sigh from the naked walls and the worn out carpet you had bought at a flea market ages ago offered little protection against the cold that radiated from the wooden floor and crept through your feet into your legs. You couldn't say exactly how long the heating had been broken, or whether it had ever worked at all. But the constant cold wasn't really bothersome for you, as rarely as you were in this apartment. And yet the thought of returning to your home after another stressful tour and not to another hotel room seemed much more appealing. Although a hotel room would be much more financially affordable than this apartment, which was furnished with mismatched furniture from flea markets, dried flowers on the windowsill and a tap that was like a round of Russian roulette - you never knew exactly when it would next decide to jump off the edge of the sink and give whoever dared to touch it an unwanted shower.

The smell of coffee slowly filled your little apartment. You watched the dark, steaming liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, into the oversized and absurdly ridiculous looking cup, the handle of which was too small, to stick a single finger through and was painted so hideously that it could almost be described as an abstract work of art. It would certainly have been pretty, with its unevenly sized flowers and smiley-faced butterflies that were almost creepy, if one had made even the slightest effort. But what blame could you possibly give your elementary school self for this trash? Drawing, let alone any other kind of craft, was never one of your strengths. The only thing your clumsy fingers could do was play the guitar.

After you gulped down your minimalistic breakfast, you rushed into your bathroom. The hot water ran down your body, washing the night from your skin as you hummed a new tune that had found its way into your mind and was gnawing there like a terrier.

“I have to write this down straight away,” you promised yourself, but as soon as you stepped out of the shower, now standing in the fog of your hellishly hot shower session, the melody escaped as quickly as it came.

Scowling, you got ready, plaited your wet y/h/c hair into a simple braid so it wouldn't stick across your face, slipped into your favorite jeans, a faded T-shirt and comfortable shoes that would carry you from gig to gig over the next few weeks. You threw a jacket over your shoulders, grabbed the suitcase, shouldered the guitar and let the door close behind you with a loud click. The keychain, which consisted of more pendants than keys, jingled loudly as you locked the door.

The hum of the city, now gradually awakening, echoed through the streets of Los Angeles; a soundtrack that accompanied your departure into a new adventure, a new tour. You would be away for some time again. But to be honest, your apartment never quite felt like home and probably never will. But what does home even mean? Oh boy, let’s not open this box.

Spending the time with your cousins, the three goofy guys you grew up with and were more like brothers for you, always felt more ‘home’ than being in your actual home.

When you reached the parking lot you were loudly greeted by your cousins, as if you hadn’t seen them in ages. But you haven’t seen them for only three days.

What drama queens …

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping upon your lips as all three of them tried to hug you at the same time.

“Whoa! Take care of that guitar!”, you admonished them laughing.

"Excellent!" Rick, the tour manager, clapped his hands as you joined the already waiting group. “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get on the road. Are you guys excited?”

Oh god, that was too much enthusiasm for an early morning. And by the groaning of everyone else, you knew you weren’t alone with that opinion.

Your luggage was taken by the driver and stored into the bus that would be your home on wheels for the next few weeks. But as he was about to take your guitar, you pressed it against your chest, making clear it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Soooo,” someone snuck up behind you, “and you are the next Stevie Nicks they say, huh?”

You turned around and looked at a guy from the other band, Corroded Coffin. His face was framed by wild, dark curls and his brown eyes sparkled for a moment with something like delightful anticipation. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he cocked his head and examined you closely from head to toe.

"Well, I wouldn't dare say that," His eyes snapped back up to your face when your soft voice sounded, "But I think I can fairly say that at least I won't be the next Cyndi Lauper." Was that a joke you had just made? You weren't necessarily the kind of person who cracked a lot of jokes, as a lot of people didn't understand your type of humor. But the guy in denim jeans and studded belt seemed to unexpectedly appreciate your humor.

"God forbid! The world wouldn’t be able to tolerate another horribly squeaky voice like that. Not to mention those ridiculous lyrics. I mean - " He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as if quoting the lyrics would cause him physical pain, " - The hour is late, don't you want me baby? Through your garden gate. Really? I even write better lyrics when I'm drunk." A hoarse giggle escaped his throat and you couldn't suppress a shy giggle either.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself without further ado, relieved that you also seemed to find his joke funny, and offered you his hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Eddie.” You shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the fancy rings that adorned his fingers. But before you had the chance to take a closer look at them, Chad, your cousin and drummer of your band, hurried you inside the bus.

A brief fight about who would take which bunk broke out among your cousins. But instead of joining their childish behavior, you simply threw your guitar on the bunk you found most appealing.

“Hey!” Doug, the lead singer and oldest member of the band declared upset. “That’s not fair! Who said you could just claim that bunk!”

“Isn’t it ‘Ladies first’?”, you asked, smirking as you let yourself down on the rigid mattress.

“Oh come on, you’re not a lady,” he laughed but you just shrugged, not even thinking about giving up your bunk. You heard a muttered ‘Princess’ from them as you began to make yourself comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Being the only female sometimes had its perks.

Since it was still early in the morning, you decided to take a nap, but the smell of coffee woke you up after an hour, followed by Cliff’s “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, please Cliff, don’t give her a reason to think she’s an actual beauty.”

“Shut up, Doug,” you sighed but took the cup Cliff handed to you. You took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and wrapped your hands around the cup.

“So when’s the next stop?”, you wanted to know after you took a look at your watch.

After Chad studied the leaflet with the exact time schedule of the tour, he answered: “We should be at the location tomorrow morning at 8 am.” He turned the piece of paper, trying to find any other information. “God, I hope we’ll take a break soon. I won’t survive without a cigarette until tomorrow morning.”

To everyone's relief, later that day the buses pulled over to a rather abandoned parking lot for a quick break. Being crammed up in a bus for hours with you slightly hyperactive and childish older cousins could be seen as some sort of torture. From burping contests to silly bickering, you weren’t spared of the usual bullshit today. So when the bus stopped and the door opened, you literally fled outside. The fresh air filled your lungs and you thanked god for the break. You loved your cousins, really, but they could be a nuisance.

“Finally managed to escape the madness, huh?” You could hear the smile in the voice of the guy who sneaked up on you. You weren’t expecting someone to come up to you for a chat, so the sudden sound of this guys voice startled you.

“Jesus christ!”, you screeched out in surprise and turned around to see Eddie's amused face.

“You can call me Eddie,” he winked at you. “Little jumpy, huh? Adorable.”

“Are you done with this?” You weren’t on the road for a day and yet the Rockstar was trying to flirt with you. Must be a new record.

“What? I - uh,” Eddie stuttered surprised, his eyebrows curled up in a frown.

“Oh, so you already met.” To your surprise, it was Cliff who saved you from another flirting attempt from Eddie. You were about to answer ‘Unfortunately’ but figured this would probably ruin this whole trip beforehand. So you decided to just nod and shut your mouth.

You hated rock stars. Ironic, huh? Since you were the guitarist and singer of a band, soon to be a rockstar too. Most of the guys didn’t care a lot about the music as soon as they got famous. The moment they were cheered by fangirls, all they cared about was to get as many girls as possible into bed. They never missed the opportunity for a small, insignificant quickie, took advantage of their status to get women into bed, only to then push them out of bed after a short bit of fun in order to seek confirmation from the next slut. Playing with women to boost their egos was more important to them than their music, the one thing they got famous for. At some point, you thought they just used music to get famous so they could bang sluts; it wasn’t about music from the beginning. And now, here was Eddie, seemingly just like the rest of them, with his charm and his smile, trying to play the same game. But you weren't going to fall for it. Bitches always know, and you weren't about to become another notch on his bedpost. You were pretty sure he was just another one of those bastards, flirting with you for his own amusement and validation, to eventually get you into bed like so many others before.

In the last few years that you had been working in the music industry, you had experienced many pick-up attempts from a number of musicians. Both when you initially accompanied the bands as an assistant to the tour manager and during your recent time as an opening act with your band; you were not spared the pick-up lines.

In the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting, you went for it, felt flattered and unfortunately fell for the charm of some of the musicians. It would probably be an exaggeration to say you fell head over heels in love, but at least a handful of the musicians swept you off your feet. But every time you had to painfully learn anew that musicians, especially rock stars like Eddie, were all bastards. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - that was the motto they lived by.

Obviously, your aversion to rock stars was merely a reaction to the many times you had been hurt, exploited and betrayed. Painfully, you had to learn time and time again that it was probably a pathological habit of these guys to use women to confirm their tiny egos and were incapable of anything like a lasting relationship. And this Eddie was no exception.

“Y/N, this is Jeff, he plays the bass,” Cliff pointed at the guy next to him, a tall guy with dark skin and a smile as sweet as honey, “Jeff, this is Y/N, she’s our guitarist and second singer.”

Jeff shook your hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you told him, ignoring Eddie next to you, who was not so patiently waiting to chime in. Jeff noticed his friend's urge to say something, but with a smile he continued to talk to you.

“Now you just have to meet Gareth, he’s our drummer, and Grant, one of our guitarists. And Eddie,” he points at the fidgety guy next to you, “is our singer and lead guitarist.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Rick called out to get back into the buses.

“Alright, see you later.”, Cliff said and, with you in tow, hurried back to your bus and waved Jeff and Eddie goodbye.

The next day you played your first show of the tour, the prelude of this adventure. And it was a great success. The crowd was hyped, thrilled to see your band perform before Corroded Coffin entered the stage. By far, this show was the best one you’ve had. Adrenaline flooded your body as you hopped off the stage after the last song. You were soaring higher and higher on the feeling, an addicting mixture of dopamine and endorphins.

“What was that?” Doug, excitedly jumping up and down, looked at you with wide eyes.

You mirrored his smile and tried to find the right words to sum up what just happened.

“That was absolutely insane!”, yelled Cliff out. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to place a kiss at the crown of your head. “You were incredible! And that solo?” Cliff let go of you. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed out, and mimicked the motion of his mind exploding. His palms hovered inches away from his temples as he widened his eyes in astonishment, as if trying to contain the explosion of thoughts within his skull. You started to giggle, touched by your cousin's excitement about your freestyled solo.

“I really hope you remember what you did up there. Brillant!” Thankfully you took the beer Chad handed you. “I swear to god, when this tour won’t be our breakthrough, I’ll be damned.”

For the rest of the show you stayed backstage with Chad, while Doug and Cliff roamed around the venue, drinking beer, celebrating, and probably trying to flirt with some girls. You sipped at your cool beer and wiped away the sweat on your skin with a towel Chad threw at you. The high slowly subsided. But you had to agree with Chad; you could literally sense how this tour might be your last step before your big breakthrough. Satisfied you laid back in the small armchair backstage and spent the time talking with Chad as long as Corroded Coffin were on the stage.

After Eddie and his band had to play bonus track after bonus track, they finally left the stage. The time schedule was very tight knit, which left you no time to stay and relax. As soon as the crowd left the venue, you quickly gathered your stuff and stowed away everything in the buses. A quick ‘Great show’ was all the bands interacted with each other before they disappeared into their home on wheels, carrying them to the next location.

The next shows were no different to the first one; success after success. Your fan base grew, you were asked for autographs, fans bought your merchandise and wanted to take a photo with ‘The Sleepless’. Everything felt like a dream.

“I think Eddie really has his eyes on you,” Chad whispered to you with a mischievous grin when, during the sound check, he spotted Eddie walking up and down next to the stage, hidden behind the sound boxes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and changed your position without comment, under the pretense of tuning the guitar undisturbed.

One evening, after another successful show, you had the chance to stay at the venue, no time schedule stressing you to leave the town right away. You were sitting at the bar and drinking some beer. Before you went back to the hotel, you wanted to take the time to chat with Corroded Coffin.

Eddie rocked back and forth indecisively, the label on the beer bottle in his hand hanging in shreds after he rubbed it nervously throughout the last twenty minutes. He was fascinated by you, your demeanor, your humor, your talent, not to mention your beauty. But he was also confused by your cold, dismissive manner towards him. So he gathered his courage, clutched his beer bottle. As you were casually chatting with Gareth, Eddie approached you from behind, trying to appear as cool and collected as possible.

“So, um… Do you like raccoons?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have slapped himself for it. What was that supposed to be? Cringing about his failed attempt at gaining your attention, Eddie frowned.

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out if your mind was just playing some tricks on you. Luckily you couldn’t see Gareth’s amused grin, deriding his friend's horrible attempt to flirt with you.

"What?" Eyebrows raised, you turned her head in Eddie’s direction, thinking that you probably misheard what he said over the loud music. Because nobody would ever think of starting a conversation with “Do you like raccoons” right?

“Oh, uh … nevermind.” Embarrassed by his defeat, Eddie turned around, leaving you and Gareth alone again.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeff hissed as Eddie sat back down next to him at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Eddie whined, burying his face in his hands.

The evening wore on and the more Eddie drank, the more confident he became until he plucked up the courage to talk to you again. His gaze lingered on you a little too long as he waited until you were alone again and he could shoot his shot. After Gareth left you, Eddie took a deep breath and took his chance.

“Your performance was really good. You are so talented,” he let you know, as casually as discussing the weather. There was a lot of nervousness bubbling under his cool facade, but he was able to hide it surprisingly well.

“Thanks.” Your answer was short and might have come out ruder than you intended. Without even looking at him, you sipped your drink. Eddie felt himself continuing to run into the walls you had built around you. So he tried again.

“You have a really nice guitar. You rarely see such gems on a stage.”

Sighing, you put the glass down and turned to him. For a brief moment, a spark of hope flickered within him as your eyes met his. You were just about to give him a rather sarcastic answer when he spoke up again.

“I would really be happy if I could get to know you a bit. I mean, we've been traveling together for a while now, so I'd like to know who I'm dealing with." For better or worse, you had to agree with him. After a moment's consideration, you nodded in agreement.

So Eddie cautiously tried to get to know you. At the beginning you were rather shy and your answers were short. After a few minutes, however, you thawed out a bit and Eddie allowed himself to make a joke or two that surprisingly made you smile.

“What do you do in your free time, when you’re not out and about making music?” Interested, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter and literally sank into the depths of your eyes.

You thought for a brief moment before answering him. “I'm trying to recover from the tours and unpleasant flirtations of horny rock stars.” With a wink, you leaned back, eager to hear his answer.

“Oh come on, touring with a rock band can’t be that bad,” he replied incredulously. You raised an eyebrow almost defiantly.

“You think so?” You snorted disdainfully. “Oh, you have no idea what it's like to tour in the wake of a rock star. Besides the crappy hotels, poor pay and miserably long bus tours, someone like me has to put up with the constant bragging about who's the band's biggest player." With a teasing grin, you tilted your head and slowly ran your finger along the rim of the glass.

“Between all the…how do I best put this?” You narrowed your eyes and seemed to think. “Between all the meet-and-greets, there’s hardly any room to rest. If you know what I mean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.” You raised the glass to your lips again and as you sipped at the drink, you looked Eddie almost challengingly in the eyes.

Eddie held your gaze, felt challenged and saw his chance to win you over. Just don't make any mistakes now.

“You know, maybe you just need the right rock star to change your mind,” he countered playfully, lowering his voice. “I would rather spend my time on the couch with a good book than with groupies at a wild party.”

“Oh really?” you replied incredulously, voice dripping with sarcasm. You liked playing the game, maybe even making him think he had a chance with you. A game of cat and mouse, except that it wasn't entirely clear who was the cat and who was the mouse.

"Oh yeah!" He confirmed his statement exuberantly and nodded eagerly. “It’s a lot more rock‘n’relax, you know?”

You snorted, barely hiding a giggle. “Rock’n’Relax, yeah?” You looked at him skeptically with a lopsided smile. “No scandals? No wild parties? No paparazzi madness? That almost sounds too good to be true. You’re like the last unicorn in a herd of wild donkeys.” You leaned forward a little and let a strand of your y/h/c hair slide between your fingers.

Eddie felt like he had found a small crack in your wall. With a triumphant smile on his lips, he took another sip of beer.

“You know,” he put the bottle back on the counter, “to be honest, I don’t really care. Just because I'm famous doesn't change my passion for music. For me it was never about anything other than my music and not about fame.” Confident of victory, he enjoyed the moment in which you looked at him admiringly, not knowing that you were just playing with him, the way everyone had always played with you before. Encouraged by your feigned affection, he took the next step.

“You know, maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else. In a nice restaurant perhaps? Just you and me. What do you think of that, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Not gonna happen, Munson.” There was something mocking in your voice as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the club. He watched you leave, speechless and confused. What just happened? Was he caught up in a bad dream? No, one look at his friends, who were looking at him just as stunned, he knew that he couldn't have dreamed that.

The first stop of your next ten hour journey was early in the morning. You were given a good 15 minutes to stretch your feet, smoke or just get some fresh air.

Half-awake, you strolled across the rest area with a steaming cup of coffee and joined Chad and Cliff, who were smoking by one of the trash cans.

With a grin, Chad noticed Eddie trying to get close to you unnoticed. “Look, your shadow is already awake too,” he teased whispering, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“God, this guy just won’t leave me alone,” you moaned and squeezed your tired eyes shut in annoyance, which was a dangerous endeavor, since you feared you might not be able to open your eyes again.

"How come? He’s quite nice, isn’t he?” Cliff objected.

“He’s a rock star. And they’re all the same,” you replied wearily. "Superficial. Arrogant. Narcissistic. And oh, very important; They fuck everything that’s female and has two legs just to reinforce their puny ego that they’re the hottest.”

“Woah! Hold on, hold on," Chad interjected laughing. “Seems like someone's gotten out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“Oh come on, it’s true,” you whispered and looked at your cousin, pressing the warming cup of coffee against your chest in a poor attempt to warm yourself. “Every band I’ve worked with so far has, without exception, been out to meet as many groupies as they can.”

Both rolled with their eyes, ready to say something, but were silenced by Rick's voice. “Okay, everyone, break is over! We need to move on!”

Sighing you shambled back to your bus, hoping to get some more time to doze off in your little bunk before your slightly hyperactive cousins would return to their typical banter and bullshit, keeping you awake and denying you the rest you needed.

“Why don't you just give him a chance?”, Chad groaned and plumped down on the beanbag.

Cliff climbed up into the bus and agreed with his brother. “Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy.”

“I really have to agree with them. You should give him a chance. I don't see what your problem is anyway.” Doug’s voice echoed from the small bathroom of the bus.

You dramatically rolled your eyes and sighed. Didn't they see how all your ‘just give him a chance’ romances ended? It's like they forgot about all the times your heart was broken, all the times you’ve been used and played with, like none of that ever happened.

“Because,” you started, almost sounding like a teacher, “Rockstars are assholes.” The eyes of your cousins followed your every move as you crouched down in front of the little fridge, searching for some milk for your coffee. There was no chance they’d shut up to let you sleep, so you could just as well down another coffee to wake up the rest of your body.

“Well, the four Armenian guys we played with a few months ago didn't seem to be assholes. You spent a lot of the time with them. Like … a lot!”, Doug said with special emphasis on the last part of his sentence after coming out of the bathroom. And he was right. You did enjoy the time with these four weirdos from L.A. on your last tour.

“Yeah,” you huffed and filled your cup with the worst coffee you’ve ever had, “‘cause they were stoned the whole time and wanted me to help them with their make-up!”

The three guys looked at each other but eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay, totally forgot about that.” Cliff acknowledged.

For a moment there was silence. An awkward kind of silence and you felt like you won. Maybe you could unexpectedly get a few more minutes of sleep? Until Chad started this discussion all over again. “But what if he’s different?”

You groaned in annoyance at your cousin's remark and laid your head back. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why do you desperately want to -” Mid Sentence you stopped, an idea shooting up in your mind. With wide eyes, and a nearly insane look on your face, you glared at them. “Now I see it. I can see it pretty clearly!”

“What are you talking about?” Chad’s question let you twirl around. You pointed your finger at him, sensing a conspiracy. But it could’ve been the caffeine in your blood as well, you didn’t know but it didn’t matter anyway.

“You guys want me to fuck with him! You want me to fuck with him, so we might get some publicity for our band!”

“Bullshit! No one wants you to fuck with him.”, Chad huffed with a frown, offended by your suspicion and shook his head.

“Unless you want to fuck with him. You know, you’re an adult, you’re responsible for your own actions and who are we to tell you -” You interrupted Doug quickly.

“Okay! Okay! Could we stop discussing my non-existing sexlife? Please? I’m not gonna fuck any Rockstar at all.” You sat back down on the little sofa and sipped your coffee. “Rockstars are just horny little assholes with little egos. All they ever want is to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible, just to boost their ego. Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll - that’s all they ever want.”

“Oh come on, Y/N/N, not everyone in this industry is like that,” Cliff tried to calm you down, unsuccessfully.

“Not everyone, but an incredibly large amount of them are and I’m not willing to go through all of that bullshit again to find out who might not be like the rest. End of discussion.” You downed the coffee and stood up to get some alone time in your somewhat cozy bunk, where you would stay for the rest of the drive.

“Oh, and don’t ever call me Y/N/N again. I’m not eight anymore.”

When you arrived at the club where you were scheduled to perform that evening, it was pouring rain. The thick raindrops splashing against the window panes had a calming effect on you, always has. To pass the time while Rick was dealing with the hotel, which had canceled the reservations for some unknown reason, you made yourself comfortable on one of the padded benches in the entrance area of the hotel and soon closed your eyes. You let the patter of the rain lull you like a gentle massage.

“Could you please stop staring at me like that all the time?” You didn't have to open your eyes to notice Eddie, sitting in a chair just a few steps away from you, watching you and thinking you wouldn't notice.

“I uh…” He felt caught red-handed and nervously jumped up from his seat. Giggling, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at me like a creep?” you interrupted his stuttering. He nodded sheepishly.

“Listen, I would really like to get to know you,” he began after taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair right next to you. “I'm really serious, no games. I’m not one of those cliche rock stars, believe me.” You also sat up and looked at him. Skepticism flashed in your eyes.

“Please give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. I would really like to know who you are off stage. Just an honest conversation, you and me.” Eddie looked at you pleadingly, with big, round puppy-dog eyes that, to be honest, no one could resist. But you hesitated for a moment, indecisive if you should dare to trust him and give him a chance.

“Please, Y/N.” You could tell from his look that he really was being serious. Every single fiber of your being screamed ‘no’, your instinct screamed at you not to trust him, but eventually you gave in.

"One chance." When you finally gave him the opportunity to prove himself his face lit up. “Really just one chance. I've had enough of being played with by guys like you. You have one single chance to convince me that you’re not the kind of rock star that just uses women. Don't make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t regret it, promised,” he solemnly swore, excitedly holding out his pinky for the sacred pinky promise.

“I hope so for your own safety,” you admonished him and sealed the promise. Was this really the right decision?

Later that evening, after another incredible show, Eddie approached you, a wide, excited grin painted on his face. His friends watched him from a distance, ready to help him if needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” He snuck up on you from behind and slung his arm around your shoulders. Was the touching already too much? Too intrusive?

“Oh, hey, there’s your shadow again,” Chad winked at you. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Laughing, he turned away from you and followed Cliff and Doug to the bar.

“That was a good show, huh?” Still high on the evening's success, he grinned broadly at you. “The best show we've had so far!”

"Oh yeah, especially considering all the screaming and bra-throwing fangirls," you told him with a sarcastic tone that immediately wiped the smile off his face.

"What? No, that… well -” Again he burst into incomprehensible babble, which was probably intended to be an apology or justification.

Laughing, you placed a hand on his arm. "Eddie, that was a joke," you explained.

“Oh, yeah, uh - a joke,” he stammered, still a little taken aback. “Shall we maybe eat something?”

“Eat something?” you asked and looked at your watch. “It's almost half past one. In the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: “Some pizza place will be open by now, don’t you think?”

Miraculously, the two of you actually found a rather shabby pizza place that was open at that time. Between a few drunks stumbling out of discos and the smell of greasy food, you found a small table in the corner. While you waited for the pizzas, you observed the unusually lively hustle and bustle in this small diner and were thoroughly amused by the unsuccessful attempts of a drunk German tourist who wanted to order his pizza in Italian from the Pakistani-born owner.

“Really? Pineapple on pizza?” Disgust was written all over Eddie's face as the waiter brought your order.

“What? Believe me, this is the best combo. You have to try it!” Laughing you grabbed a piece and held it up to his face. With a scrunched up nose he tried to get away from your rather pushy attempt to make him try the pineapple pizza.

“Come on! You have to try it, trust me.” Still giggling you looked at Eddie, his eyes darting between you and the piece of pizza, dangerously near his lips. He weighed his options for a moment until he decided to give it a try. With a frown he sighed but leaned forward to take a bite. As he chewed you looked at him expectantly and waited for a reaction. It took him a few seconds until his face lit up. “Well, it’s not that bad actually, but I wouldn’t call this ‘the best combo’,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay Mister Gourmet,” you jested and moved aside on the bench to get away from him in a playful manner, acting pouty. “You obviously don’t have a good taste.”

“I don’t have a good taste?!” The expression on his face was theatrically offended.

“Yeah, you don’t have a good taste. But it’s my fault, sorry, I should’ve known it already the first time you tried to flirt with me.” You shrugged and returned your attention to your pretty oily pizza. Eddie, however, couldn't turn his eyes away from you. With his mouth wide open in shock, trying to find the right words, you couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fish out of water. Grinning to yourself you continued to ignore him until he finally found his voice again.

“What?”, was everything he was able to get out. “What?!”

As you were trying to grab another piece of pizza he shoved the plate away from you, forcing you to look at him. “I have no taste because I think you are fucking cute and talented and gorgeous?”, he summed up your sarcastic remarks.

“Oh please, you don’t honestly think I’m cute or gorgeous or anything,” you snorted, leaning back on the sticky bench, knowing damn well he wouldn’t make it easy for you to get your pizza back. “You just want to flatter me because you want to end up in bed with me like the guys before you.”

Still in shock he stared at you. “No, no, no. Hold on.” Eddie gently turned your head by placing his index finger on your chin so you had to look at him. “You still think all I wanna do is lure you into bed?” He waited in vain for you to reply, but all you did was look down at the dirty table.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to get to know you. Not like the assholes before. I wasn’t joking when I told you I care more about my music than being famous. Even if I wasn’t famous, you would still be that girl I desperately would want to spend my time with, okay? I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect than you. I would gladly give up everything I have just to get to know you. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now, Y/N.” Eddie's voice was soft but determined. You could feel that he was being honest with you, not joking around or acting up just to lure into bed.

All this time you were played with, and not just your time in the music industry but the years at school too, you were so used to only getting a guy's attention because he wanted one thing. But as soon as you made it clear to whoever was shooting his shot, you were nothing more than garbage to them. So it was pretty much understandable that getting compliments or even the slightest attention from someone made you hide behind your wall you built around you to protect you. In your own mind you were worthless, no one would actually want to get to know you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you whispered after some quiet moments, finally looking up into his eyes again. “I’m just not used to all of this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “Well, honestly it’s not okay, because it seems like you’ve been treated like an object before and that’s not okay. But it’s okay that you’re insecure. Let me help you, okay? Let me show you not everyone is like this. I really want you to see what I see when I look at you or hear you sing or simply hear your laugh.” He moved closer to you again, closing the gap you created before. “You can trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you or play with your feelings or anything.”

You just sat there for a moment, your pizzas already turning cold, while a battle raged within you. On one hand, there was the overwhelming desire to trust Eddie, to believe his kind words and let him in. But on the other hand, there was the lingering fear, the scars of past betrayals and heartaches, whispering caution in your ear. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, reminding you of all the times you had been let down and used. It was a struggle between the longing for connection and the instinct to protect yourself from further pain.

As Eddie's warmth enveloped you, a part of you wanted to surrender to the comfort he offered, to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. But another part hesitated, clinging to the safety of your walls, wary of the vulnerability that came with trust.

Eddie's gentle touch and reassuring words began to chip away at your defenses, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts. Could he truly be different? Could he be the one to break the cycle of hurt and disappointment? Or was he just another one to kick you in the back, to play with your feelings just for his amusement?

Eddie sensed you might need a hug, someone to hold you tight and make you feel somehow safe. “Is it okay if I lay my arm around you?”, he carefully asked. You needed a second to muster your courage and finally nodded. Eddie laid his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer. As you leaned into his embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within you, tentative but undeniable. Perhaps, just perhaps, this time would be different.

“I don’t care what you’ve been told by these pricks. All I know is I want to spend my time with you and make some music, nothing else matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Slowly you began to let your walls crumble down, bit by bit. This kind of safety was something you hadn’t felt in quite some time and you nearly forgot what it was like to hold on to somebody. There was still a voice in the back of your head, admonishing you to keep your defense up just in case, because no one could ever really like you, right? You were always the second choice, why should it be different this time?

Time seemed to fly by as you were lost in Eddie's warm embrace and soon you were told to leave by the owner of the diner, it was closing time. You already forgot about the pizza, with all the grease they were disgusting anyway.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back.” Eddie stood up and held out a hand for you. For a second you looked at his hand, his calloused fingers and the chunky rings adorning them, unable to decide if you should accept his offer to hold your hand. But without your heart's consent you eventually grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Eddie cast you a reassuring smile, proud you overcame your doubts.

After that evening you slowly began to trust Eddie. He brought you coffee in the morning, smiling like an idiot at your grumbled insults; even though you were the complete opposite of a morning person, he found your rather grumpy attitude inexplicably endearing. You spent the breaks together, and to your cousin's great confusion, you laughed at his jokes and found yourself drawn to his incredibly mesmerizing and warm eyes. And when you were exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, he simply sat next to you and enjoyed your presence. Sometimes he would play some melodies on his guitar for you or read to you out of some crappy books he bought at a gas station; he always picked the ones with the most ridiculous titles or covers.

Your little pizza dates after your shows quickly became some sort of tradition whenever you had the chance to stay in the city for the night, giggling at the drama of the drunk’s around you. Soon he began to appreciate your choice of pizza, stealing pieces of your pineapple pizza when you weren’t looking.

He truly was the sweetest guy you ever met. Eddie managed to make you laugh when you felt like never laughing again. He made you feel valued. He made you feel important. When you were on the stage you found Eddie either right beside the stage or in the front row, cheering, screaming, as if you were the greatest rockstar on earth. And when he was on the stage his eyes were glued to your face wherever you were standing. He always found you, the rest of the crowd disappearing for him; there was nothing more important to him than to see your smile while he performed.

As a sign of love and affection he let you play with his lucky pick while you gave him your favorite lighter.

Time flew by, you and Eddie were literally glued together which started to annoy the rest of your bands. You weren’t spared the mocking and teasing comments of your cousins and even Eddie had to deal with bad jokes from his friends. Some weeks had passed, all your doubts and worries vanished and you enjoyed your time with Eddie. There were innocent touches, his hand brushing yours when you walked next to each other or crossed paths backstage between you performances, hugs whenever you were alone, he even held you hand under the table when you were at a restaurant with everyone else.

One evening you found yourself outside of the club for a smoke to calm down your nerves. During your band's performance there were a few dickheads trying to sabotage the gig, hollering insults and booing because they thought your band was crap. So you stood outside, the cool air of the night wrapped around your body and literally cooling down the racing thoughts that started to pull you down again. You took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke filling your lungs. As you inhaled the smoke, your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath for a moment before releasing a little cloud of tobacco smoke into the night sky. The buzz of pleasure combined with the slight flash of adrenaline and energy rushing through your body were slowly numbing your mind.

“That shit could kill you, you know?” The voice pulled you out of your trancelike state. You opened your eyes and turned your head just to find Eddie, sneaking up behind you out of the dark.

“So does life and yet here we are,” you taunted, shrugging your shoulders and taking another drag. “Aren’t you supposed to get on stage by now?”, you stated after taking a look at your watch.

“Yeah, but the security is currently busy with removing some shitheads that insulted my favorite person,” he declared casually and took away the cigarette that bounced between your lips. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you watched him taking a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs, before he handed you the cigarette.

“You didn’t -” you stated flabbergasted.

“Of course I did.”, he huffed, releasing the smoke, and looked down on you. “A behavior like that is not appropriate and should not be tolerated.”

You shook your head and took back your cigarette he offered back to you. “Moron,” you whispered and couldn’t contain your laughter.

“I’ll gladly be your moron,” he winked at you before returning back inside for his performance.

You stayed in Indianapolis for two more days after your show before moving on with your tour. Rick allowed you to take a short break there to relax and recover from the stressful tour life. And with Chad’s birthday right around the corner you and your other cousins decided to spend the whole day together, so you informed Eddie that you would be away for the day.

This day felt like childhood again, exploring the city, visiting a museum and going to a mall in the afternoon to shop for some new clothes. Later in the evening you wanted to celebrate Chad’s birthday at a pub, the only thing that didn’t feel like childhood.

Before you headed to the pub you wanted to change your clothes and freshen up a bit, maybe you could even say hi to Eddie since you hadn’t talked to him for the whole day. As you knocked on his hotel room door you were disappointed with silence. Maybe he was out with his friends too? You sighed and hurried into your room to change. But when you excitedly exited the elevator and caught a glimpse of Eddie, your heart skipped a beat and shattered into a million pieces. It was like a rope wrapped around your chest and with every breath and every heartbeat it got tighter and tighter, making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. Everything around you seemed to freeze, moving in slow motion as your eyes followed Eddie and the girl next to him.

Ouch.

He had slung his arm around her shoulder and as he leaned closer to whisper something into her ear, you could see the huge smile on his lips. Seeing them laughing and being pretty close felt like someone pierced your heart with a million daggers. Just when they disappeared into the elevator you were finally able to catch your breath again, nearly hyperventilating.

Like being stuck in a nightmare where you couldn’t wake up from, you couldn’t get the picture of Eddie and this beautiful light-brown haired girl out of your head. You didn’t know how long you stood there and stared at the place where Eddie and his groupie vanished into the elevator, but judging by the concerned expression on Dougs face you must’ve been in your trance for quite some time.

“Y/N?”, he asked multiple times and after you hadn’t shown a reaction to his attempts to catch your attention, he tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. “Hello?! Earth to Y/N?!”

This snapped you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“God, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked and shook his head. “We’re late, let’s go.” And with that you left the lobby.

Although you tried to distract yourself from the spiteful voices in your head and the images of Eddie and this girl doing whatever in his hotelroom, you were unsuccessful. Your mood was at its lowest and after Cliff noticed your discomfort and asked if you're alright, you tried to drink away this overthinking and obstinate voice inside of your mind.

Downing one drink after another, your mood finally started to light up. You danced, laughed and got drunk. After not even two hours you were completely wasted and your mind blacked out. You vaguely remembered seeing Eddie in the lobby as Chad brought you back to the hotel and that you threw a pillow at him, followed by some slurred insults. Luckily Chad could hold you back before you had the chance to jump at Eddie's throat. Whereas your drunken state probably would’ve made any attempt to jump at Eddie unsuccessful. As Chad dragged you into the elevator, you growled “Fuck off and leave me alone. Don’t you dare to ever talk to me again” after Eddie confusedly tried to find out what had happened.

Somehow you ended up in your bed with a bucket next to your nightstand, just in case.

A knock on your door woke you up eventually, but opening your sleepy eyes was a strenuous act. You tried to rub away the sleep from your eyes, as it knocked a second time.

“Good morning, princess,” Eddie’s voice came chirping from the other side of the door. “Wake up. It’s time to get up and get ready for the day!”

An exasperated groan escaped your throat and you looked at the door, wondering if you should just ignore him, tell him to fuck off, or give him a chance to explain himself for the sake of the tour.

As he knocked a third time, you sighed and squeezed your eyes, already regretting your decision.

“Do you have coffee?” You had no other choice, your tired mind and hungover body were desperately in need of caffeine.

“Open the door and find out!” he cooed and no one could have overheard the smug grin in his voice. He was still confused about what your encounter last night meant, but he hoped you just had been drunk. Most people he knew tend to become aggressive under the influence of alcohol, maybe you were one of them?

“God, a simple yes or no would have been enough.” Slowly you got out of bed and slipped in one of your hoodies.

Eddie was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you were too tempted by the prospect of a steaming hot coffee. So you dragged yourself to the door, unlocked it and carefully opened. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a mustache painted on his face, with what you suspected was eyeliner, and the desired cup of coffee in his hand. Unimpressed, you stared at him for a moment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he said with a bad french accent, seemingly trying to be funny, and wiggled his eyebrows, as if nothing had happened last night. You kept your unimpressed expression, even though this sight was kind of hilarious.

“I’m fucking mad at you,” you grabbed the cup and held it to your chest. “And that mustache looks ridiculous.”

“What? But what did I do?”, he protested.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Without further ado you closed the door again.

“Please, tell me what I did wrong and let me apologize.” Eddies voice was desperate as he begged you to explain to him what he did to upset you like this.

The warmth of the coffee spread through your body and life seemingly came back into your hurting limbs after you took a sip. Should you really enlighten him? Should you really give him a chance to apologize? You already gave him a chance, he fucked it up and now acted like he didn’t know what he did wrong. If he didn’t know what he did, how should you accept his apology? How could an apology be honest without even knowing what the problem was? If he didn't realize on his own what he had done wrong, how could he regret it and apologize?

That’s just not working.

And that made you furious. Driven by caffeine, anger and the residue alcohol in your system, you yanked the door open and glared at him. “You told me, yeah, you PROMISED me, you were different, not like the other rock stars who play with girls. You begged me to give you a chance to prove you really wanted to get to know me. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you,” you hissed through gritted teeth and put the cup of coffee down at the dresser next to the door precautionary before you accidentally spilled the much needed coffee.

At the sound of your tremulous voice Eddie lost his self confident composure and turned into a scared little child that was scolded by its parents. He looked at you with his incredibly lovely puppy eyes, something no one could resist. On one hand you felt bad for yelling at him, on the other hand, however, you were still boiling with anger.

“I’ve seen you,” you began, voice now softer. “I’ve seen you with this girl last night. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulder and took her with you into your room. How could I even believe that you were resistant to these horny groupies.” Eddie froze as you explained to him why you were so angry with him.

"I mean, she's absolutely beautiful, breathtaking. I can't really blame you, she's gorgeous. I would choose her over myself too, honestly -”

“Y/N,” Eddie interrupted you, his voice soft and … amused? “That’s Robin.” He was unexpectedly calm, nearly optimistic, and not like he was trying to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, great. At least you can remember her name,” you laughed hysterically. “Congratulations! Bonus points to Eddie fucking Munson. You’re right, you are indeed different from all those horny rockstars.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Even if you tried to hold back your hurt and anger, it wouldn’t have been successful. But letting it all out felt good, freeing. You looked at him, waiting for some lazy excuses, but he was just calm, like your accusations didn’t bother him. Was that a smile? Was he really smiling right now?

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. A moment that felt like eternity as you waited for his answer.

“Robin’s a lesbian.” Eddie tried to fight it, but it was a hopeless fight. The teasing grin tugging at his lips spread across his face.

“Oh … “ This caught you off guard. Your expression shifted from hurt to embarrassment, your hungover mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “Oh!” To hide your blushing cheeks you covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“She’s an old friend of mine. And since she lives here, I decided to meet her, ask her for some advice on how to win you over, you know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, really. I didn’t know - I just saw you and her and -” you apologized stuttering, ashamed you judged him too soon and unjustifiably screamed at him. A knot of guilt and remorse formed in the pit of your stomach as the realization sank in.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured you. “I never meant to upset you. I actually thought you were already out with your cousins.”

“I was on my way to meet them outside when I saw you with her,” you interfered.

He sighed and looked down on you, his expression softening with understanding.

“I never was good at talking to girls. To be honest, I’m awkward when it comes to flirting or talking with a girl I like. So I asked Robin if she could help me out. I wanted to do it right, you know? And not scare you away because I’m clumsy and weird since it was getting serious between us.” Eddie shook his head and huffed, seemingly amused about a memory that popped up.

“You know, I figured calling someone I like M’lady and stuff isn’t really what girls want.”

"Eddie, I'm so incredibly sorry, I really am," you apologized over and over again. The guilt seemed to eat you up inside.

“Please believe me, my love, and I’ll give you those things you thought unreal - the sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal,” he whispered, his rough hands cupping your face.

Even when everything would fall apart someday and the world burned down, all he would want was to hug you tight. There was nothing more important to him than you and his music - as long as you were with him, nothing could go wrong, you’ll be the light to guide him back home. He lost himself in the depths of your y/e/c irises, his heart beating violently in his chest. Just as you were about to say something he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss sparked something inside of you you’ve never felt before, something you never wanted to miss again in your life.

Out of breath you pulled away. Your mind was dizzy, but you were unsure if it was from the lingering effects of your hangover or the intensity of this moment, this overwhelming kiss.

“Come on, get ready and we’ll go out to get some breakfast,” he whispered, his smile was filled with warmth and affection - just pure adoration for the most wonderful woman in his life.

__________

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

[sehodreams]

love your works 🫶 do you think you could pretty please talk more about anton and the piss kink? 🙈

TW and Tags: PISS KINK, all consensual, fingering, p in v, shower sex, messy sex, just a ton of filthy stuff that if you don't enjoy, JUST DON'T READ.

Hahahaha sure babe 😂

I have something about it in my riize kink headcanons, but more here:

Also, please look at those fingers and think about them while reading.

I think it'd be a slow path for him to recognize he has it, it'd start with him making you squirt one night, he'd have probably stimulated you so much you felt something weird coming, and after his long fingers fucked you ruthlessly, you would've had your first squirt in your life. Of course you didn't know you could do that, and he never thought about it before neither, but seeing in person fired something inside him he didn't know he had. Then, he wouldn't be able to stop pulling orgasms and orgasms out of you, it'd be almost a need for him to make you squirt in his bed for him to feel satisfied, or even better, i can see him fucking you with his fingers even in public to get that squirt out of you, in his car, in an alley, even in a party in a place so secluded he'd grab your hand and make you run with him after making a mess down the floor. He'd lick his hand and love how you would end like a newborn deer trying to walk with trembling legs, he holding your shoulder and helping you get out without no one else noticing.

Not much after that the piss kink would come naturally to him, for example, I imagine you two drinking a lot one night, a nice date in an expensive restaurant, you wearing an outfit so pretty you don't want to mess it up, holding in the urges of peeing the whole night. The second you arrived at your apartment, he would take it off to make you feel good, like in every special date. Starting with his usual fingering routine, saying how pretty you looked, he'd slide his fingers in and out, feeling your insides a bit hotter than normal but thinking it was probably because of how much wine you had. However, soon he'd notice something different was about to happen, he just felt it coming, and you didn't expect it, you felt a painful sensation burning you but you thought it'd be just an intense squirt, not noticing the golden drops until they started to slide down his hand. You couldn't stop apologizing with tears falling down your eyes, "I'm so sorry Anton, I'm sorry", and he'd be pretty shocked at first, feeling the hot sensation over his hand, but then he'd kiss your temple and calm you down to not make you feel more embarrassed "it's okay princess, accidents happen".

He'd keep thinking about it though, how different it was, and how good it felt at the same time to see you crumble that way in front of his eyes. There's just something unique about it, the way you break apart and shame creeps your cheeks, he just can't forget how vulnerable you were that day. So, the next time, it wouldn't be an accident at all, he'd keep pushing drinks in you, this time not in a public place to take it slow with you and see what you thought, but seeing how much he needs it, you wouldn't be able to say no when, deliciously riding his cock, he asked you to pee over him.

It'd be weird the first times, like everything new you tried, you would hide your face, maybe you'd cry, but soon it'd feel so good he'd continue asking you for it and you'd always accept, until it became a normal part of your relationship.

Also, later it wouldn't be just you, it'd start with something small too, like asking you to watch him pee, to then pee on your feet before softly washing each other's bodies after an intense night, or maybe directly asking you to have shower sex so he could pee over your leg before/after fucking you against the cold wall.

[everybodysaynoooooo]

Save Me - Kim Taehyung ff [Chap III]

Synopsis: Two crowns are crumbling. One heir who won’t yield. And a bodyguard who stays just a little too close. In a world where masks fall faster than heads, he’ll have to decide who’s worth trusting —before everything falls apart. He wanted peace. He found war —and a bodyguard with more secrets than commands.

k.taehyung x f.oc

Words count : 6,9k

Genre : Kingdom AU, enemies to lovers, bodyguard x royalty, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

Chap content : Strong language, mild tension, Taehyung is kind of a dick, slight tension, mention of blood/wound, minors dni !

Author Note : Here comes the it boy...

If anyone wants to be tagged for this fic, don't be afraid to ask !

Gentle reminder that all rights are reserved, so please do not copy, translate or repost my stories. Also I do not own BTS or their actions, the stories are fictionnal and does not depict real-life events or involve any actual member of BTS.

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"Can I get you something to drink, miss?" I lift my head abruptly at the sound of the voice addressing me. A maid stands a few steps away, a mildly concerned look on her face.

I can’t blame her. I’ve been standing in front of these wooden doors for the past three hours -only because His Highness the Prince refused to let me in with him.

Clearly, the gentleman is too afraid I’ll report his little meeting with Lord Ebonwick to his father to risk letting me overhear anything.

Utter nonsense. As if I had nothing better to do than play the gossip. I’ve only been on duty for a couple of days, and it’s already proving difficult enough to protect the Prince from himself -let alone waste time sending pigeons back to the Capital.

He’d notice in a heartbeat anyway: the dovecote at Ebonwick Manor doesn’t even hold a dozen birds; anyone paying the slightest attention would see one missing.

I offer the maid a polite smile but shake my head. "That’s very kind of you, but no thank you," I reply, well aware I must look ridiculous. "I’m on duty."

She simply nods, gives me a quick bow, and walks away with a soft rustle of skirts.

I sigh and let my head fall back against the wall.

Damn Prince.

Ever since I scolded him at the inn last night, he seems determined to punish me one way or another. It started this morning, when he ordered me to "make myself useful" and go saddle his mare for the hunting trip he supposedly had planned.

Only for him to casually inform me upon my return that he’d rather rest -and that I was now to fetch him the finest bath oils I could find.

I did say I was here to tend to all his needs, but this is getting a bit much.

If he weren’t a Prince, I probably would’ve slapped him already.

Three hours go by quickly when your mind is buzzing with thoughts, when you're meeting new people and conversation flows freely -especially when servants keep walking past carrying silver trays piled with little pastries.

Three hours, when you’re stuck waiting outside watching those same silver trays pass by every ten minutes without being allowed to so much as glance at them too long?

That drags.

Horribly.

If I had someone to talk to, I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.

But no.

My only company is a half-dead houseplant -this trend of putting plants indoors is never going to last.

So I wait. In silence.

I stare at the ceiling, count the cracks from where I stand -I’ve got excellent eyesight, that for sure, because I can tell there’s at least thirty-two of them. Old building, I guess.

I try to look out through the tall windows, imagine the breeze that must be drifting through the trees outside…

Translation?

I’m bored to death.

At Princess Taeyeon’s manor, there was always something to do. She always wanted to play, or go for a walk, or have someone tell her a story…

Taeyeon always had something in mind.

Taehyung, on the other hand, doesn’t want anything.

At least, not from me.

That’s one of the clearest differences I’ve noticed between brother and sister so far: the sister didn’t seem eager to rip my head off every time someone dared mention my name in the same sentence as “bodyguard.”

In fact, she was rather pleased about it -something I stopped hoping for after my very first night here.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the King’s orders, I’d be gone by now.

I’d have returned south to see Marge and Taeyeon -or left with Yoongi.

I’m sure hunting down Prince Jimin through Hestidia is at least a little more exciting than this.

But no. His Majesty the King has decided I’ll be his son’s bodyguard.

Letting out a small sigh, I slip a hand inside my jacket until I find the sealed letter tucked in my pocket.

It was meant for Yoongi, and he’s already read it -the broken wax seal is proof enough.

But when he and his unit had to leave in a hurry, he left it behind in the guest room he’d been staying in at the castle, and a maid ended up giving it to me, not recognizing the seal of her King.

It works out for me.

I’m not sure it would be a great idea for the Prince to read what his father wrote to my brother.

Dear Lieutenant Min, I must inform you that the situation in Hestidia is worse than it was when you left -I realize how unbelievable these words must sound to you, given the context of your departure, and yet they are true. By accepting to resume the search for Prince Jimin, you have relieved the Council and myself of an enormous burden -we cannot afford to leave him unguarded in the wild much longer.

 Thus, if you were to travel through what were once the pleasant lands of Hestidia, I must share with you here a few pieces of the information I possess: King Jigeun remains in hiding in the southern port city, sheltered by his ally the Duke. It is, however, pointless to search there -he no longer dares show his face, so fierce is the people’s anger.

 With the remaining soldiers all gathered in the south, we lack detail on much of what’s happening. But it appears nearly fourteen duchies have already been seized -if not outright burned. Should you venture into one of those areas, I would advise utmost discretion.

 You understand, I imagine, the urgency with which we must return Prince Jimin to Irinian’s Capital, where he will not only be safe, but able to restore order.

 I will not wish you good luck, Lieutenant. At this point, it’s a miracle we need to escape this nightmare -and I hope with all my heart that you succeed.

His Royal Majesty, Kim Taegeun

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read this letter since it came into my hands. But every time my eyes trace those lines again, I feel the same odd sensation creeping in.

Something doesn’t sit right.

Not only did I have no idea things in Hestidia had gotten that bad -Yoongi had mentioned it vaguely, but nothing like this- but I also can’t shake the feeling that something’s hiding behind those elegantly penned words.

That the King has something else in mind. And that he trusts Yoongi enough not to bother disguising it more carefully.

Yes, finding Prince Jimin is important. Bringing him back to the Capital to think through a solution, too.

But the attack in Hestidia -the one that killed the highest Lords and sent the Royal family fleeing…

…That was nearly a month ago now.

Prince Jimin is no fool. He must know that joining his allies is the best course of action. So why hasn’t he done it?

Why is he hiding so thoroughly that even the elite guard can’t find him?

What if Prince Jimin doesn’t want to be found?

And why doesn’t Prince Taehyung seem to know anything about any of this?!

Out of all the questions this letter has stirred in me, three conclusions have settled firmly in my mind:

Yoongi knows more than he’s telling me.

Prince Taehyung is hiding something from his father -or else he wouldn’t be so opposed to having a bodyguard.

And the King is preparing a plan that Prince Jimin wants no part of -because otherwise, he’d already have run straight to the protection of the most powerful kingdom in all the known lands.

But of course. These are all just suppositions.

Over the years, I’d ended up forgetting just how long Lords’ meetings could drag on. I knew they could be boring -I just hadn’t realized how excruciatingly boring they were when you’re stuck waiting for them to end without being allowed to take part.

The Prince and the Lord of Ebonwick spent the entire morning holed up in that room -nearly four hours, straight.

Then the Lord suggested showing the Prince around his lands -something the latter obviously couldn’t refuse, being the perfectly polite guest he’s pretending to be. So, after four hours of doing absolutely nothing, we followed it up with two more of walking through the halls of Ebonwick’s little castle, led by the Lord himself, who seemed absolutely thrilled to tell us the entire life story of every armchair and flower bush in his palace in that wobbly, wheezing voice of his.

They hadn’t even made it out of the main hall when the Prince shot me a single, scathing look that made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to see me. So I spent the next two hours walking ten steps behind them, as quietly as possible.

And yes. Obviously. It was boring as hell.

But I’m not here to make friends with the Prince -I’m here to keep him alive. If he doesn’t want to talk to me or even look at me, fine. As long as he lets me do my job, I couldn’t care less. Would it be nice if he made an effort to be pleasant? Sure. But if he doesn’t plan to, I have no issue returning the favor.

It’s only at the end of our little impromptu tour that the Prince, with a courteous smile, brings up the “restoration of the region.” His smile looks humble, friendly -almost apologetic, even, for bothering the Lord with such a dull topic.

But me, even from a distance, I saw it immediately: that flicker of impatience, perfectly tucked behind that polite grin.

From that moment on, I couldn’t unsee it. Every little gesture, every fleeting expression, every glance the Prince threw his way -it all became blindingly obvious if you just paid enough attention. That slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that turns into a smile just in time for the Lord to look his way. The way his eyes narrow a little more each time the old man launches into yet another ramble about this or that.

And once I noticed that, the day suddenly became a lot more entertaining.

In its own way, it’s kind of fun watching the Prince pretend he’s not bored out of his mind. Look closely enough, and you can tell he’d rather be anywhere else than here, and that he’s only here to do what the King ordered him to do. The young man just happens to have enough charm and acting talent to pull it off flawlessly.

Should I feel honored to be the only one who sees him for what he really is, now?

Ugh.

What did I do to deserve this, seriously?

The Prince and the Lord keep talking all afternoon, and -as the perfect gentlemen they are- they even decide to go for a lovely horseback ride through the Lord’s hunting grounds.

Which, of course, means the forest is now swarming with the fifteen men the Prince brought as guards, a few of the Lord’s servants on their own horses, and me, trailing all the way at the back.

In other words, if someone decided to attack the Prince now -way up front- I’d be completely useless.

I’m sure that bastard did it on purpose.

And the worst part? They’re going so painfully slow that the soldiers and I are forced to crawl along at a snail’s pace. Lexi, who usually prefers trotting through leaves and vanishing into the underbrush like the royal guards are trained to do, keeps stomping the ground with his hooves in frustration.

I pat his neck, murmuring, “Sorry, big guy.”

I would’ve slipped off the trail and followed from the woods like usual, but I’m way too afraid the Prince would use that as an excuse to lecture me again -and I’ve had more than enough of that, thanks.

So I wait. Again.

Patiently. Just like I’ve done all day.

And finally -finally- the day comes to an end. Once we’re back at the edge of the Lord’s estate, the Prince bids him farewell, and the Lord disappears with his little flock of attendants.

The royal convoy turns around and starts heading back to the Prince’s residence. This time, I let Lexi veer off the path and roam through the trees as he pleases. The Prince is flanked by fifteen guards -if anything happens, I’ll hear it, and I’m keeping an eye on them from a distance anyway.

Or so I think.

Because barely ten minutes from the castle, I spot all fifteen guards walking back -without the Prince.

Frowning, I nudge Lexi forward until we reach them.

“What’s going on? Where’s the Prince?”

One of them turns to me with a smile -it’s the redhead I saw at the stables the other day. Gallien, I think.

“Don’t worry, Miss Min, he’s just behind us,” he says, and another one nods.

“He told us to ride ahead. Said he wanted to enjoy the evening breeze for a bit.”

I narrow my eyes, unconvinced, but the men just keep smiling and nodding, clearly thrilled to get back early. I nod along, and they spur their horses forward toward the castle, eager to rest.

Meanwhile, I stay there, staring “behind” us -though I doubt any of them could actually point to where that is.

Mentally, I groan.

No wonder these guys weren’t chosen to guard the border. Dumb as rocks. Which probably works just fine for the Prince.

All it took was a simple “Go on ahead,” and they actually did it -even though their job is literally to protect him.

Squinting, I scan the tree line in the distance. His mare is white, easy to spot even as night falls. Not to mention him -he never goes anywhere without that massive grey fur cloak.

If they were really “just behind,” I’d have seen them instantly.

But clearly, I don’t.

So I sigh, dig my heels into Lexi’s sides, and take off toward the forest. Looks like dinner’s going to have to wait.

As usual, Lexi veers off into the underbrush, his pale coat blending into the shadows. My black clothes help too -we’re practically invisible like this. Even more so once night fully falls.

I stay alert, scanning our surroundings while Lexi retraces our steps in reverse, hopefully leading us right to the Prince.

We walk like that for maybe ten minutes, in total silence.

And then I see them.

Hoofprints in the mud, beside a puddle. So fresh I can see the pattern of the horseshoe. I crouch down to get a better look -and smile when I spot the little crest imprinted there. A grizzly in a circle. The royal emblem.

Bingo.Prince 0 – Harin 1.

I swing myself back onto Lexi, and without me needing to say a word -he gets it. Our horses are trained for this, after all. He follows the trail immediately.

After another twenty minutes or so, we reach a part of the forest I’ve never seen -probably because you have to go deep into the woods to get here. A small clearing, with an enormous oak tree.

And at the base of the tree, the Prince’s mare, calmly grazing like she’s on holiday.

Lexi stops a few paces away. I slide off and approach her, puzzled. She doesn’t seem the least bit troubled, even nudges her nose into my hand like she’s happy to see me.

As I scratch her ears, only one thought echoes in my head.

Where the hell did that damn Prince go?

I don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“I believe I gave the order to return to the castle.”

I whip around -and come face-to-face with the Prince himself. My frown deepens.

He’s taken off that enormous fur cloak and rolled it into a tight bundle tied to his mare’s flank. He’s just wearing a white shirt and brown trousers now. One quick glance at his hands tells me he’s taken off all his gold rings, and even the small golden diadem he wore all day with the Lord is gone.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out: he’s going somewhere -and he really doesn’t want anyone to know.

Interesting.

“Going somewhere, Your Highness?” I ask, casually ignoring his earlier command.

He has the audacity to chuckle.

“You, on the other hand, are heading back to the castle. That much is certain.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Your Highness.”

“How sweet…” he mutters with a sarcastic smile -which vanishes just as quickly. “But that was an order, Min. Go back to the castle.”

“I was ordered to protect you at all times. Hard to do that when I’m at the castle and you’re gods-know-where in the middle of the forest.”

“I don’t need your protection. I thought I made that clear.”

“Oh, it was very clear -especially last night at the tavern.”

That shuts him up. His smirk dies on his lips, replaced by that signature glare of his.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact for even a second, he steps closer -much closer than etiquette allows- until the tips of his boots are brushing mine and I’m silently screaming inside.

We are well past the five paces formal distance.

He leans down to eye level -way too close- and only then, when my discomfort must be written all over my face, his lips curl into that wolfish grin he saves just for me.

“This is the last time I’ll say it, Min. Stay out of my business.”

Then he steps back, and I inhale like I’ve been underwater.

“Don’t make me get unpleasant,” he adds, giving me one last scathing look before turning away.

What the hell was that?! Unpleasant?! Like he’s being pleasant right now?!

I barely have time to collect myself before he pats his mare’s flank and starts walking away -on foot, mind you- into the trees, like I’m not even there. Like I don’t exist.

This has got to be a joke.

“Your Highness…-” I start, quickly stepping after him…

…only to freeze when a gunshot echoes through the clearing, sending birds flying from the trees.

He shot me.

With my gun.

Pain sears through my thigh. Blood’s already soaking through the fabric. Shocked, I look down -my belt is missing a very familiar weight.

My pistol.

He must’ve taken it when he got too close.

Harin, you idiot.

I swallow hard, my leg trembling. I’ve had worse, sure, but it still hurts. Judging by the pain, the bullet lodged right in the muscle -it’s going to be a nightmare to get out.

“I warned you,” the Prince says, his voice somehow deeper -or maybe that’s just the ringing in my ears.

With a nearly apologetic twist of his mouth, he adds, gesturing with my pistol, “I’ll be keeping this. It’ll be like you’re with me.”

Then he offers a mock bow, flashes a charming fake smile, turns his back, and vanishes into the forest.

And I stay there. Stunned. Bleeding. Furious.

I’m going to kill him.

Walking through the forest, the cool breeze slapping my face, has always had a certain charm to it.

Not that I do it often. Or want to, really.

But when every step sinks my boots deeper into the mud and the branches keep whipping across my face, I have to cling to some vaguely pleasant aspect of this little adventure.

That only works for a few seconds, though, because the once-refreshing breeze is now turning into a bitter wind as night falls, and I’m left shivering.

If only I’d been able to bring my coat -but of course not. The fur’s too conspicuous, It catches the gaze way too easily, that would’ve been my worst idea. 

If anyone asked, I’d pretend my father requested discretion. Not that it matters. The truth is, I can’t risk being recognized. Not right now.

Still, someone is going to owe me for these endless minutes of freezing mud and finger -numbing wind.

The nearest village is only a twenty-minute walk, heading south through the forest. And by “village,” I mean a pitiful cluster of run-down houses. But it’s better than nothing -and remote enough that no one’s likely to find me. Find us.

I keep checking over my shoulder the whole way there -gods, I even take a longer path, just to be safe.

Aside from Min, I haven’t seen a soul. And really, who besides her would be insane enough to wander the woods alone at this hour? Me, apparently.

But with that leech, I’d rather play it safe. Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if her elite training included "how to win a fight with a bullet in your leg." Honestly, it wouldn’t even shock me.

So I walk more cautiously than usual, twice the care, three times the awareness, though the darkness certainly doesn’t help.

When I finally reach the edge of the village and spot no movement around me, I allow myself a bit of relief.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to be afraid of, anyway. No one recognizes me in this region -the incident at the inn made that very clear.

As for potential spies: one’s been shipped back to Hestidia, the other is currently incapacitated with a bullet to the thigh.

There are no soldiers in sight, just a few local peasants -none of whom would have the slightest clue who I am without a crown on my head or something equally ridiculous.

So, walking with a pace I hope looks casual -though I’m not nearly foolish enough to lower my guard- I head toward a building someone vaguely described to me months ago.

I recognize it at once.

A narrow, towering structure, built right into the side of an enormous tree. The trunk blends into its walls, some of the windows are hidden by its branches, and the whole thing rises so high I have to crane my neck just to glimpse the top.

And I’m the one who’s told to be discreet. What a joke.

Hands in my pockets, I walk up to the door -and just before I knock, I run a hand through my hair, tousling it into a messy heap. No more perfectly styled locks. Let it look like I just rolled out of bed -the more disheveled I am, the less likely someone will recognize me. And I’m not in the mood to take chances.

Then, after a deep but quiet breath, I step inside.

I’m immediately hit by the blare of music and the sharp stench of alcohol. Squinting, dazed -and above all, annoyed- by the sudden assault.

It’s not the kind of music they play in royal palaces all day long -those are delicate, refined. This is... chaotic. Crude notes tossed together in random bursts. And yet, somehow, just as irritating. I think after hearing some all day all night, I’ve officially grown to hate music in all its forms.

And the smell -gods, I loathe strong smells more than anything. This one’s clearly alcohol, but so bitter you just know it must taste awful.

All around me is madness. People dancing, shouting, drinking -bodies pressed together in an overwhelming crush. As I push forward, the sharp scent of sweat mingles with the alcohol. So much for my sensitive nose.

The whole place is lit only by a few scattered candles, casting a dingy glow over the room. If I weren’t so focused, I might even find it gloomy.

I make my way slowly to the bar. The bartender -a towering man with a beard longer than my arm- spots me immediately and scans me with narrowed eyes. Apparently, my civilian disguise only works on the drunk and oblivious.

Not that I’m going to reward him by acting strangely. Quite the opposite -I drag over a barstool and sit down, leaning casually on the counter like I’ve done this a thousand times.

He watches me for a moment before finally speaking. “Can I get you something, kind sir?”

I offer him the most polite smile I can manage while feeling this tense. Drink that vile-smelling swill? I’d rather die. “That depends on what you’re offering.”

His gaze shifts slightly, something in his expression sharpening. Then he shrugs. “Depends on what you’re after.”

Internally, I smirk. The first lines of the code have been exchanged.

My eyes drift toward a small staircase hidden in the back corner behind him, blocked off by a heavy steel chain.

A lot of effort for a mere staircase.

I nod toward it. “I’m looking for the flower.”

He frowns, glancing toward a drunk collapsed on the counter a few stools away -clearly passed out for hours. Then his eyes return to mine. “Well now, I’d need to know which flower you’re talkin’ about, good sir.”

We stare each other down. Neither of us looks away. It’s probably pointless to hesitate -he’s followed every line of the code perfectly, but I guess I’m just too paranoïd. This is way too risky to leave it to luck, anyway. 

A loud cheer from the drunken crowd behind me decides it -I’m not spending another damn second in this filthy den.

Slowly, I lift one hand from the counter and slide it into my pocket, fingers closing around the ring hidden there since this morning. Before that, it had been on my finger, camouflaged by the usual sea of oversized jewelry I wear.

When I draw it out, his eyes find it instantly. “This flower,” I murmur, tapping it lightly.

In the low light, the blue-emerald bloom set into the ring gleams like a diamond, enough to catch even my attention -if I weren’t so focused on his.

The flower’s a beautiful mix of rose and lily -or it would be, if it weren’t sliced clean in two. The other half sits on the second ring.

Jimin calls it the Smeraldo -as if such a flower even exists. I’m willing to bet he made it up.

The man admires it for a few seconds, then blinks sharply, like snapping out of a trance. He nods once, and I tuck the ring away without hesitation.

With a motion so quick I nearly miss it, he grabs the end of the chain and pulls a hidden lever in the wall. The chain falls instantly, leaving the stairs unblocked.

He tilts his head slightly toward me. “He’s expecting you,” he mutters -and just like that, it’s as if I’ve vanished from his mind. His eyes return to the drunks in the corner like I never existed.

I allow myself a triumphant smile as I stand and head for the stairs.

About damn time.

It doesn’t take me long to find the right door. After climbing the three flights of stairs, just as it had been briefly explained to me months ago, I follow the maze of hallways, always turning left, until I reach a heavy wooden door with a silver handle that gleams softly in the dim candlelight.

No lock, no oversized padlock -just a small symbol carved onto the front of the handle. A flower -the same strange, probably imaginary flower embedded in my ring, this time drawn and encircled by a thin line.

Slowly, I pull the ring from my pocket again and position it so that the half-flower presses against the drawing.

The half-circle sinks into the handle just as I push the ring into it, and as I hear gears turning inside the door, it opens, revealing a large room much more brightly lit than the rest of this miserable building.

And as I step in, I freeze at the sight of the person already inside.

“Well, finally! I thought you were never gonna show up!” exclaims the most wanted man in all the Known Lands, beaming as he shoves a pastry into his mouth.

A sigh escapes me, and I close the heavy door behind me. The sound of gears turning echoes once more before a loud clunk signals that it’s locked again.

“Jimin,” I say -though it sounds suspiciously like a relieved sigh- as he walks up to me, licking sugar off his fingers. “I almost didn’t come, but the idea of you waiting all night made me feel a bit sorry.”

He chuckles, golden bangs bouncing as he hops toward me. “Eh, you know, ten minutes later and you’d have found me all tucked in under my blanket, so…”

He shakes my hand out of habit before pulling me into a hug.

Classic Jimin. I can’t remember a single time we’ve met where he hasn’t hugged me.

Usually, I grumble. Try to shove him off before eventually giving in and hugging him back. But the last few months have been rough -especially for him- so much so that I honestly thought, at one point, he wouldn’t make it. Jimin’s been my closest friend for as long as I can remember, more of a brother to me than any of the other heirs of Irinian.

There aren’t many people I truly care about -and that’s exactly why I can say it: losing Jimin would’ve wrecked me.

So no, I don’t complain before wrapping my arms around him.

It’s like our relief flows silently between us in the hug, because I hear him let out a long breath before he rests his cheek on my shoulder -and it almost makes me smile.

It reminds me of when we were younger, and he used to cry because his governess was too mean. He was such a baby -tiny, always crying over nothing- and every single time, he demanded that I hug him to make it better.

When he finally pulls back, I ruffle his hair affectionately, and he growls, swatting my hand -just like that, the emotion of the moment slips away, replaced by something a little more serious.

“So, what miracle kept you alive?” I say, walking toward the table he was standing by and stuffing a pastry into my mouth -because gods, I’m starving. The only food I was offered at the Lord of Ebonwick’s castle was a string of sad little hors d’oeuvres -makes you wonder if that old man even eats.

“Oh, you know me. I get by.” He flops down into a padded chair, fingers fiddling with his own ring -the other half of the flower.

“Did someone help you?”

“Mm, not really, but I bounce back. I made it here, that’s what matters.”

I grab an apple from the platter next to the pastries and take a bite before continuing. “My father’s men are looking for you.”

He nods, eyes still fixed on the emerald, completely unsurprised. “Yeah, they almost caught me in the Eastern fields,” he says, referring to the vast prairies that are so distinctly Hestidian, where he hid out for a while. “They’re good. I’d heard stories, sure, but I’d never seen the special guard in action before…”

My gaze drifts to a large painting on the wall -a portrait of the Lord of Ebonwick, twenty years younger. “...Me neither.”

He turns to me, a curious look on his face. “They gave you trouble too?”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“They’re still giving me trouble.”

At his raised brow, I add, “My father assigned one of them as my bodyguard.”

His face lights up. “That’s awesome!”

“It’s not awesome,” I snap. “That snake’s only here to report everything I do back to him. Trust me, they made it very clear that they serve the Kings, not us.”

I take another angry bite of the apple. Jimin props his elbow up on the back of the chair to look at me more directly, thoughtful. “Are they still after me?” he asks after a moment.

I nod. “He wants to use you to take back control of the kingdom…” I roll my eyes.

Just thinking about my father’s brilliant little plan makes me want to hit something. Jimin and I saw an opportunity in this mess -of course my father did too. It’s just depressing that, with an entire council to help him, he still comes up with the most predictable moves.

The alliance between Hestidia and Irinian has always worked -until one of them starts crumbling. Wouldn’t it be tragic if the other fell with it? Much better to pick apart the remains instead.

Father wants to use Jimin’s image to seize control of Hestidia.

Honestly? It could work. Jimin’s father is in a weak position, cornered in a southern port by an angry populace. Jimin is alone, with no obvious allies -and that only because I’ve been careful. He’d be an easy target for manipulation from the ally kingdom’s King.

And once that happens, the King of Hestidia wouldn’t have much choice but to hand the crown to his son -who’d promptly have it snatched away by the other King.

That old man’s pushing way too far.

In his chair, Jimin resumes playing with the ring, lips pursed in thought.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking…”

I lean against the table and look at him, eyebrow raised as I chew the apple. At this rate, I’ll swallow the core by the next bite.

“If the royal guard comes close to finding me again, I think I’ll let them.”

I nearly choke on my bite -and the bastard has the nerve to smirk. “Did you hit your head or something?!”

He giggles, eyes crinkling into little crescents. “I said I thought it through.”

“No, you didn’t,” I shoot back, setting the half-eaten apple down. “I just got saddled with this useless woman-bodyguard, and my kingdom isn’t even in crisis!”

“A woman-bodyguard?” he echoes with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Don’t,” I snap. “It’s hell. If they get their hands on you, they’ll probably stick you in a cage. It’d be a miracle they don’t.”

He watches me, nibbling on his lower lip, thinking hard. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if we could use them. Maybe even need them.”

“That’s the most ridicu-”

“Imagine if I could convince them to side with me,” he cuts in, leaning forward over the back of the chair, excitement in his voice. “We’d have a serious ally.”

“Forget it. The moment I try to give mine an order she doesn’t like, she hits me with ‘I serve the King, not you.’” I grimace, mocking Min’s voice.

“I am the King,” Jimin replies, dead serious -though the smile tugging at his lips betrays how much my frustration entertains him.

“Not yet,” I mutter, but he interrupts before I can say more.

“I’m the direct heir. Alive, free, and sane. The King’s holed up by the sea like he’s trying to disappear, and no one knows what’s going on down there. For all we know, he could be dead.”

“You haven’t been crowned,” I point out, though his arguments are already chipping away at my resolve.

“Who cares?” he scoffs. “The King vanished. Right now, to the people? The crown’s mine.”

He locks eyes with me as I mull over his words, licking my lips.

“They’ve been hunting me for months, right? You really think they know the full story of what’s happening in the south? They don’t. And if I managed to convince you, I’ll convince them.”

Seeing me hesitate -his logic stacking up more and more in his favor- he adds, “We need help after what happened at Ironshell, Taehyung.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, brain racing -like it always does when we get into one of these plans. “You want to try again?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Not if you’re not up for it. But I think this is the perfect time. Especially if I can flip the royal guard.”

I mull it over in silence, and he waits.

Shit. It might actually work.

Jimin’s always been good at getting people on his side. Everyone at the palace used to call him “little angel” even though he was a total demon. He used that innocent baby face to get whatever he wanted, and never threw tantrums when he didn’t -so the staff adored him, and he always got his way. I could do that too, when I was younger -now, pretending just annoys me too much to bother. Jimin, though, it’s just how he is.

And like he said -if he managed to convince me, the king of all skeptics, maybe he really can pull this off.

I think of Cat-eyes and that brief meeting. He had that same unreadable face Min always wears -the one that pisses me off to no end- but even if he seemed more respectful, he looked just as committed to his mission. Will Jimin actually be able to sway him?...

I look at him, uncertain, and he catches my gaze. Those big, shining eyes. That face -still angelic even after adolescence. He’s got a way with words, and he’s more patient than I am -which is a huge advantage.

What worries me most is his safety. He can fight -pretty well, even- but compared to me, or to any of the special guard, he’s small. Fragile. When we used to train together, he rarely beat me -so against Cat-eyes? After what I’ve seen Min do, I’ve got doubts.

But it’s Jimin. And Jimin’s always been good at charming people.

I mean, he managed to get this hideout unnoticed. That says it all.

“So?” he finally asks, arms dangling over the chair’s back.

Slowly, I nod. “But I swear, if this goes sideways, don’t expect me to play nice. No way in hell I’m letting my idiot father use you.”

At that, he smiles -a smile that blooms slowly on his lips, making his eyes gleam in that strange, dangerous way. A predatory smile that looks especially unnerving on a face as pretty as his.

“Is that your way of declaring your undying love for me?”

Slowly, with a movement that’s still fluid and perfectly controlled, I grip the branch and edge my way back to the trunk.

The hardest part is definitely keeping my breathing in check -I sound like some sort of rutting ox.

The wound in my thigh burns with every motion. The makeshift bandage I wrapped around it barely lasted a few hours -now I can feel the blood leaking again.

Too bad. I’ll cry later. Right now, I have to get back to the castle.

I thank the skies I don’t get dizzy when I look down -nearly ten meters to the ground, a fall that’d be fatal if I missed the landing. Lucky I was trained for this.

I slowly slide down the trunk, arms gripping tight, legs wrapped around the bark. I block out the blinding pain shooting through my leg. That’s a problem for future me.

Yet, I can’t suppress a faint groan when I land softly on the ground. Embarrassing -but I’ll live.

I don’t start running until I’m out of the village and deep into the woods. The tears stinging my eyes from the pain -I ignore them too.

It takes less than five minutes to reach Lexi, hidden in a bush.

Even less to throw myself on his back and push him into a full gallop. Straight for the castle.

I didn’t see much -didn’t hear much either. Perched on that branch, I’d have had to move closer to the window to pick up anything, maybe read their lips -but they would’ve spotted me for sure.

So no, I didn’t read their lips.

But I sure as hell recognized whose lips they were.

I knew the Prince was up to something. What a fool I was not to even consider that he might know exactly where the most wanted man in both kingdoms is hiding.

By the time we reach the castle, Lexi’s nearly collapsed -now he’s the one breathing like a rutting ox- and some of my blood has stained his cream coat, but my focus is already elsewhere.

I didn’t think it was possible to run this fast while injured, and yet I tear through the corridors toward the room they assigned me -right next to the Prince’s.

My fingers are shaking as I unlock the door and slam it shut behind me. I’m already crossing the room, heading straight for the trunk by the wall…

...And the silver cage next to it.

My hands are clumsy as I open the trunk and pull out a sheet and a quill.

The cage stirs -urgent, impatient chirping from inside.

I scribble the note hastily, small enough to fit on a scrap of paper. I couldn’t write it all down anyway -what matters is getting the message out. Fast.

Paper in hand, I turn to the cage and carefully open it.

It takes less than a second for the beautiful kestrel inside to burst out, circling me with high-pitched cries.

I whistle and hold out my arm. He lands without hesitation -and with the mess already happening in my thigh, I couldn’t care less about the pain from his talons digging into my skin.

With a practiced flick, I tie the message to his leg. Then I stroke his beak gently, meeting his sharp eyes.

“Take this to Yoongi.”

The words vanish into the air as I open the window and let him fly.

In an instant, he’s gone -vanishing into the sky with powerful strokes of his wings.

And only once he’s out of sight do I let my leg give out.

I drop to my knees.

I exhale and close my eyes, thinking about the four words I just wrote -the ones that could change everything.

“Jimin is in Irinian.”

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[tibbythetiger]

Hello, hello!! I’m back! I went and finally got to see the film in theaters (the first two times I watched it on Peacock)! I’m going to have a  direct continuation of my previous post!!

I feel like Mike and Ness get really close after the events of the movie. Like many people already HC, I think Ness is really invested in the mystery of Freddy’s. So when Mike suddenly quits and is literally ripped to shreds with Vanessa fucked up in the hospital, his theory senses are tingling. He doesn’t try to push Mike or Abby, even though it’s killing him to not know what is going on. While Mike is desperate to find a new job, he’s pretty much out of babysitters for Abby at this point. With Max dead, his Aunt out of commission, and Vanessa in the hospital, Ness graciously stands in for the others and ends up keeping Abby with him at the diner while Mike is job-hopping. 

Also, given the attack on their Aunt, they can’t stay in their house for a few weeks. Ness offers his tiny apartment to share, which prompts Ness and Mike to share a room, and well, after one night Mike and Ness both insist on sleeping on the floor, a bed as well. It’s super cute and domestic and it makes Mike yearn for a life like this. But, he’s still not quite ready to make a move on Ness; mostly because he’s still a little freshly traumatized by the events that just happened, but also because homeboy’s self-esteem is non-existent. Ness is still head over heels for Mike, but is trying to tone it down for the time being so he doesn’t freak Mike out. However, after about two weeks, when Abby crawls into bed with them both after a nightmare, Mike finally breaks down and tells Ness about what happened at Freddy’s.  He’s surprised when Ness just believes him. 

Once the bunny (ha) is out of the hat, Mike’s walls crumble a little bit more. Ness decides that this is the best time, and decides to plan a really cute night for the three of them. He makes them dinner and makes sure he has Abby and Mike’s favorite movies. It all goes fairly smoothly, Abby does end up eating most of her dinner, but Mike falls asleep part way through the first movie, and Ness ends up putting Abby to bed. When he’s in the hallway on his way back to Mike, he finds Mike there looking at him with a soft smile and he just leans in and kisses him. 

After that, they don’t really talk about it, but they’re just together from there. They’re not super out when they’re in public (mostly because it’s 2000, and we’re assuming this takes place in a mid-western state), but Abby understands that they’re together now. Nothing huge really changes between Mike and Ness, for the most part things stay the same. Ness still helps with Abby, they still have their lil movie/TV-watching sessions after Abby goes to bed. Where they used to awkwardly stay on opposite ends of the couch, they are cuddling now. (I agree with whoever said Mike is the little spoon because YES) It’s little kisses in the morning, holding hands when they’re able to get Abby from school together in the afternoons. 

Eventually, though Abby and Mike do move back into their house, this is mostly because, with Mike’s custody and house checks, they need to have more space in order to not tip off CPS that they’re gay. (Again, just basing this off the time period and the area we’re presuming this in, I could see the state using that against Mike) Ness still spends most nights at the house, and he has a toothbrush and drawer in Mike’s room.  

This is all I have for now!! Also, I’m not sure if I want their Aunt to be dead or just, have been attacked by Golden Freddy. I feel like it could have gone either way in the movie, and I think that it would probably make more sense for her to just be dead. I’m going to try and write more general HCs for these two tomorrow! Again, if someone wants to write this out as an actual fic, please feel free to do so! Just be sure to tag me so I can make sure I can read your work!