#do not be a fucker about the south

[karmaphone]

I love my wife and I understand being terrified to speak up to her mother, but considering how she proclaims to be Uber Accepting And Progressive she still says shit like 'this was before being gay was cool' and she won't say anything to her about it including to shut the fuck up

#like ma'am we're in the middle of an attempt at genocide can you maybe not say that it's cool and accepted bc I know the type of person who #exists in this country who would willingly murder me and hide the body #and maybe you're not it but holy fucking shit you don't have the right to say half the shit you do!! #YOU don't get to call people queer either!!! fuck!!!!! #like. she's such a frustrating person bc she'll talk at length about stereotypes. because people cast her as a racist old white lady from #the south. sorry but I have some fucking news!!! fetishization is still racism fucker!!! #other people don't think the shut you say is profound because it's usually right wing bullshit couched in leftist language!! #like!!!! holy shit can you PLEASE just be Quiet for Once

[back2bluesidex]

Bad Idea - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, Fluff, established relationship au

Wordcount: 1.4k+

Summary: Accepting Jungkook's invitation to watch him train topless was such a bad idea.

Warnings: Rough sex, sex on a bathroom counter, doggy style, Jungkook is jealous, name calling, little bit of degrading, Jungkook cums on her ass, reader is kinky about Jungkook's back, unprotected sex (wrap it up). NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Sorry but I couldn't help.

It was a bad idea. 

Accepting Jungkook’s invitation to watch him train was a bad, actually very bad, idea. Because now you are having to clench your thighs tightly thinking of the feeling that you might feel by raking your nails through Jungkook’s toned, thick, manly back. 

You adjust your position in the seat a bit, rubbing your core on the leather of the seat cover in the process. 

This is just pathetic. 

Rubbing yourself off (with the help of inanimate objects) while watching your own boyfriend and being unable to do anything about it, is just so pathetic. 

You gulp your own drool each time Jungkook’s muscles flex. Fuck. This is getting unbearable. 

“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” One of Jungkook’s trainers comes out of nowhere and takes the seat beside you. 

“I - What? Excuse me?” You don’t know what to reply, especially when he is complimenting your boyfriend, who is indeed very sexy. 

“I said Jungkook is sexy.” He smirks at you. 

“Oh yeah. That he is.” You turn your face towards your boyfriend again. He still has his back turned towards you. But your eyes met his, through the mirror. 

“That’s why he has such a sexy girlfriend all for himself.” the man chuckles in a low voice. 

What the fuck. Who is he after? You or Jungkook?

“Who are you after Mister? Me or him?” You raise one of your eyebrows at him. 

“Maybe both of you?” he replies nonchalantly. 

“What-” you start to speak but get cut off instantly. 

“Hey babe. Could you please help me a little?” Jungkook stands right in front of you with his sweaty half naked body glistening under the white light of the gym. 

You smile up at him understanding that he is here for your rescue. But fuck. You probably thought too soon cause his eyes are darker and there is a tick in his jaw. 

You gulp again. 

“Sure. Tell me what can I do?” you mutter, standing up from the seat. 

“Follow me.” he says with a voice a few octaves lower than his usual one. 

So you do what fits best for you. You follow him. 

“Can you take one of the damp towels and wipe my back?” Jungkook should be requesting you but the tension in his voice makes the sentence sound more like an order. 

You take the said object and walk towards the restroom counter where he is leaning forward to give you a good access to his back. 

“What’s wrong? Why do you sound so mad?” You whisper, wiping a strip of his back. 

That fucking back again. Your thighs rub against each other without you noticing. 

“He was flirting with you.” Your boyfriend growls. 

“He was complimenting you. Umm… actually both of us.” You keep on wiping the sweat off of his back. 

“What did he say?” Jungkook asks, his eyes meet you through the mirror again. 

“He said both of us are sexy and he is after both of us.” you gulp, yet again. 

Before you can register what is happening, Jungkook spins on his heels, holds you by your waist and interchanges your positions. So now you are pressed against the bathroom counter and his body is towering yours. 

“He has been eyeing you since the moment you walked in. That fucker thinks I have not noiticed. I gotta tell him who you belong to.” His right hand travels south and grabs your ass harshly. You wince a little at the impact. 

“He has been eyeing you too.” you murmur. 

He smirks, “Mark me then. Tell him that I am only yours.” 

The offer is tempting indeed and you can’t help but fantasize about scratching that back of his. So you quit waiting and crash your lips on his. 

Jungkook kisses you back immediately. He sucks your lips so hard that you fear they might bruise afterwards. His tongue pokes inside your mouth in order to taste you more deeply. 

Granting him access, you warp your hands around his midsection. 

His back is so toned, yet so soft that your nails dig into it in their own accord. 

Jungkook groans into your mouth clearly being satisfied with your scratches. 

He detaches his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connects two of you now. “You think I didn’t see you trying to rub that cunt on the seat? Huh? You dirty little girl.” 

“Not my fault when you have 90% of your body on display like that.” you fight back. 

Jungkook chuckles, “Then why don’t you take the rest of the 10% too? Hmm?” 

His hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. It dives down into your skirt without any warning and heads for your clit. 

Jungkook hisses, finding you very wet already. He rubs your clit through the thin material of your panties, arousing you even more. You tilt your head back in pleasure and Jungkook takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

You moan his name as he bits down on the crook of your neck. His fingers slide through the seam of your panties and poke into your entrance. 

You roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers and hit his growing bulge with your upper belly in the process. 

“Fuck, Y/N” Jungkook groans “I need to be inside you.” 

You nod somehow, “me too. Fuck. I need you too.” 

“Turn around for me.” he commands and you comply without wasting any time. 

Jungkook pushes your face down on the counter by placing a hand on your neck and holds your waist to still you with another. Once he is satisfied with your position, he hooks two of his fingers on the waistband on your panties and pulls that down. The article of cloth pools down on your ankes and you kick that off readily. 

He hikes your skirt, exposing your ass. 

“God, I love this booty.” A slap lands on your right asscheek without any warning. 

“Ahhh fuck-” You wince in pain mixed pleasure. Jungkook parts your legs and spreads them open. His tattooed arm rests on your ass and the other one tugs his shorts and boxers down revealing his erection. 

Oh how you wish you could see Jungkook right now but the way you are positioned, makes it impossible even to take a look through the bathroom mirror. 

Jungkook pumps his length once and then pushes the head of his cock into your slit. The tip brushes through your clit making you moan several incoherent words. 

“Are you ready to take me in, babygirl?” he asks, rubbing your clit with his tip once more. You nod urgently. 

He collects some of your slick on his tip before pushing his length into your hot, wet core. Once he is midway in there, he pulls his cock back out and slams it all in one go. 

Your body jerks up with the sheer force he has put into his action. 

“Can I move now?” Jungkook whispers into your ear, reaching down to your face and placing a kiss on your temple. 

“Y-yes pl-please.” you manage to reply. 

Jungkook starts moving slowly but he soon takes up an erratic pace. His pelvic area slams into your ass with each thrust he forces into you. 

“Fuck f-fuck Jungkoo- feels s-so good.” you drool on the counter. 

“Yeah? My cock feels good? That’s why you suck it so well, you dirty bitch?” Jungkook’s hoarse voice only adds up to your pleasure by tenfold. And naturally, you feel yourself getting close.

“Gonna c-cum.” you announce. 

“Cum on my cock pretty girl.” Jungkook’s fingers find your clit as he starts rubbing figure eight vigorously. 

“Fuck fuck fuck” and with that you cum on his cock. 

Your legs feel like jelly, you know they might give out at any second. Probably jungkook knows that too, hence, he wraps his tattooed arm around your waist and fucks you into overstimulation. 

Once his thrusts loose rhythm, you feel him twitching inside you. 

“Fuck. We are not using condoms.” Jungkook groans. He pulls is cock out of your hole, jerks it once and cums all over your ass. 

His thick whiteness drips down your ass and thigh. Some spills on the floor, some drops down on your snickers and some gets soaked by your socks. 

Jungkook cleans up both of you, tugs himself back into his boxers and shorts and then helps you in getting into your underwear like the good boyfriend that he is. 

“Let’s go home.” He pulls you into his embrace and kisses the top of your head. 

“Yeah but you will have to carry me ‘cause I don’t think I can walk.” both of you chuckle heading for the door.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts x you #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #bts oneshot

[ashwhowrites]

Hey, if you hadn't already done something like this, I was wondering if you'll write Eddie x Popular!Henderson!R, where they're sneaking around behind Dustin's back.... 1. Because Dustin looks up to him and they're friends and 2. She's not ready to let everyone know just yet (wanting to live in ignorant bliss just a little while longer before she falls under scrutiny for falling for "the freak").

And so, when one of her friends decides to hook her up on a date, she can't exactly refuse, so she goes along with it to shut her up, without letting Eddie know, of course. And during a game of dnd, Dustin let's it slip where you are for the night, unknowingly sending Eddie into a spiral, thinking she's cheating and that's why she wants to keep them a secret and after having an internal battle, he cuts the campaign short, surprising everyone, and he crashes her date, with hellfire in toe, demanding answers. And then everyone finds out and she explains blah blah and they live happily ever after. Sorry, this was long xx

This was so fun! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Dustin's friend

When Dustin said he found a new friend, that was yet again years older than him, Y/N wasn't too pleased. First, it was Steve, and now a guy named Eddie. But when Y/N met Eddie for the first time, she couldn't care less about the age gap between him and her brother, all that mattered was that he was around her age and single.

Eddie still wasn't sure how he managed to get Dustin's hot popular sister to go out with him. Whatever he did, he thanked god for it because having Y/N on his lap with her tongue down his throat was his heaven.

"Missed you so much," Y/N whined, her hips moving against Eddie's as she yanked off his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you too." Eddie moaned as Y/N sucked down his chest. She left her marks to travel south until she was just above his boxers.

"MOM WANTS YOU," Dustin screamed as he pounded on Y/N's locked door.

"Damn it," Eddie sighed and hung his head.

"BE RIGHT THERE," Y/N screamed back, she sighed and stood up. She handed Eddie his shirt with a sad smile. "Sorry, Eds."

"Fuckers are giving me blue balls. Are you sure we can't tell him? Maybe he'd stop interrupting as much." Eddie glared towards the door. He stood up and threw on his jeans.

"You know I'm not ready for all of that yet." Y/N sighed.

"Fine, I'll go home and finish the old-fashioned way." Eddie joked, smirking as he walked backward to her window, his eyes on her.

"Maybe I'll come over and join you, later." She winked. She kissed Eddie goodbye and waited for him to leave. Then she went to see what her mom wanted.

~~~

Y/N knew hiding her relationship with Eddie was hard and tiring. And she felt guilty every time she had to act like Eddie wasn't everything to her. But she was scared. She was scared to take away Dustin's friend, worried she overstepped. She was terrified it would ruin their friendship because of the bro code. And selfishly, she was scared of the damage it would do to her social life.

"I'm telling you, he has been begging me for a date with you. You are single and have no reason to say no." Chrissy whined.

"My reason to say no is that I don't want to," Y/N said, rolling her eyes as she slammed her locker shut.

She whined when Chrissy followed.

"Like you have anything going on tomorrow night, anyway?" Chrissy argued, her eyes taunting.

Y/N technically had nothing going on tomorrow, Dustin and Eddie had hellfire so both boys were busy.

"Stop thinking of an excuse and just go. Then if you hate it, I will never set you up again." Chrissy promised.

"Deal," Now Y/N could get Chrissy off her back.

~~~

"We are kicking ass today! I wish Y/N were here to see it." Dustin cheered. Y/N had spent more time watching Hellfire since she had to pick Dustin up anyway.

"Why isn't she?" Eddie asked, he prayed it sounded casual. He read ahead on his notes to look like he didn't care too much.

"On a date." Dustin shrugged, playing his next move. No one had the table had any idea that sentence sent Eddie into a panic. Sweat on his forehead as his leg shook beneath the table.

His girlfriend was on a date, with another guy.

It all made sense, she wanted him to be a secret because she was seeing someone. Dustin knew about the guy, and he couldn't know about Eddie. Because then her secret would be exposed. Like it just was.

"Where?" Eddie snapped, his angry tone had the table looking at him in seconds.

"Enzo's," Dustin said confused.

"Get in the van," Eddie snapped as he grabbed his keys.

~

The rest of hellfire sat confused as Eddie raced to the restaurant. He was silent but gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The boys followed as Eddie stormed out of the van and into the restaurant.

Eddie felt a wave of heartache flood in his chest when he saw her with him with his own eyes. She looked beautiful as she talked about something he couldn't hear.

"Why are we here? Why do you care about my sister?" Dustin asked, but Eddie already was moving.

His heavy boots hit the floor hard, and his hand slammed on the table. The couple jumped and fear showed in Y/N's eyes when Eddie leaned down to her level.

Face to face, Eddie's hard breathing smacked Y/N's face. She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she saw hellfire behind him. Her brother watching with confusion.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" She said through clenched teeth, trying to keep the conversation between them.

"Demanding why the fuck my girlfriend is on a date with another guy." Eddie snapped, his eyes dark as he glared at her. She knew he had every right to be mad, but she didn't want a scene.

She stood up, and Eddie straightened up. His eyes haven't left her, not even glancing at the stranger across from her.

"Can I please explain later? In private." She whispered, her eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder as the boys watched.

"No, I'm tired of this private shit. Explain right here, right now. Or we are done." Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up, he wished on every star above him there was a way to make this relationship work.

"Eddie please." She whispered, her watery eyes pleading for him to back off until they could talk. "Not right now in front of everyone." Eddie tried to ignore her tears, not letting himself get sucked into her guilt trap.

"Fine, forget it. I'll see you around, Henderson." Eddie said coldly as he nodded and backed off. Y/N felt frozen in her spot as Eddie went out the door.

"Y/N?" Dustin spoke up, his hand reaching towards her.

In seconds she was running out the door.

"What is going on?" the random date asked.

"Shh man," Mike said, sliding into the booth next to him. He pointed out the window, a clear view of the couple. The boys followed, all sitting in the big booth as they stared out the window.

~

"I'm sorry! I got scared but please." Y/N cried as she tugged on Eddie's arm.

"Scared because you got caught. I can't believe you could do this to me. What about all that love bullshit? This is what you do when you love someone?" Eddie argued, hot tears in his eyes.

"I do love you! Nothing between us is bullshit. Chrissy was on my back for weeks about going on a date with this guy! I never agreed until she said If I went on it, she'd never do it again! I promise you I was just trying to get her off my back. I was going to tell her I hated it and finally have peace of just being with you."

"You know what else brings peace? Finally admitting to other people that you are in love with me," Eddie said sadly, "I'm tired of being your secret. I can't keep doing it."

Y/N sobbed as she reached forward and held his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll tell Dustin and everyone. Please just give me a chance to make this up to you." Y/N begged, Eddie sniffled as he looked into her eyes.

"I love you too," he smiled, and Y/N felt relief in her bones. "You took a chance on me, so I'll take the chance on you."

Y/N smiled and leaned forward, Eddie met her halfway and smashed his lips on hers. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

~

"Oh my god!" The boys all said at once, the random date was long gone.

"Eddie and my sister?"

"Dude! Eddie is banging your sister!" Mike teased

"Is he touching her ass?" Lucas gasped as he moved closer to the window

"Oh, that is so much tongue." Gareth chuckled.

"Our boy is making out with a popular girl!" Jeff cheered, high fives all around the table, except for Dustin who sat in a state of shock.

~

"YOU ARE SCREWING MY SISTER?"

Eddie and Y/N jumped as Dustin screamed.

"DUSTIN!" Y/N screamed as Dustin ran straight into Eddie and took him to the ground.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x popular!reader #ashwhowrites

[ghosts-cyphera]

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions

╰﹒ the reader gets hurt on a mission-gone-south, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is not having it.

content/warnings: mentions of blood and injuries; slight arguing and ghost being a bit of a meanie—all for a good reason; hurt/comfort; gn!reader; wc 1.8k

a/n: thank you so, so incredibly much for the love and support for my previous story! I was nervous to post it, so the warm welcome meant the world to me. I hope you enjoy this one too. ♡

“Take off your vest and jacket.”

Had it been under any other circumstances, the sheer dominance in Ghost’s voice would have left you weak in the knees. It would have made your breathing catch in your throat, and your head spin: your forehead to glisten with sweat, and your teeth to close around your bottom lip.

You did all the things listed above, but it wasn't because of the depth of his voice. Right now, as you cursed under your breath, your panting, sweating, and cursing were brought on not by Ghost, but by the excruciating pain on your shoulder.

“Sarge, take off your fucking jacket.”

He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor of the dim shack, his fingers fumbling for his med kit. For nearly a year you had known the man, yet not once had you seen his hands shaking.

Not until now.

“For fuck’s sake, sergeant. Do not make me pull fucking rank here. Jacket off, and sit your ass on the fucking couch.”

Like from a snap of a band, you seemed to stumble back into reality. Your senses sharpening, you rushed into action—shaky curses passing your lips, as your fingers worked on your buckles and zippers.

Jesus fuck, did it hurt, yet suddenly—for a fleeting moment—you nearly forgot all about your pain.

Because on your jacket, you only saw one hole.

A single hole.

“Ghost?” 

“Sit down, sarge.”

“There’s no—,” you hated the way that your voice cracked. The way that your eyes searched for his, as the fear settled into your chest. “There’s no exit wound.”

“I know. I need to dig out the bullet,” he nodded his head, his voice strained. “But I can’t fucking do that if you keep standing over there, now can I?”

Fucking hell.

Swallowing, you forced your feet to carry you onto the dusty old couch, the springs creaking as you did.

“If I fall through this fucking couch, I’m blaming you.”

“If you had listened to my fucking orders—“ He left his sentence hanging, as his fingers moved to investigate the wound on your shoulder. “Can you fucking stay still?”

“I didn’t move.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I was fucking shot, Ghost.” Your words, despite being laced with a touch of annoyance, were spoken as a breathless laugh. “I can’t fucking help—“ Your eyes squeezed shut, as he rested the palms of his hands around the wound and pressed down. “Fucking hell—“

“Bite down ‘em moans, love.” His brows were furrowed with his concentration. “I see the fucker.”

“Intact?”

“Can’t tell.”

Fuck.

“Pass me 'em tweezers.”

With quivering hands, you did as you were told. “First time fishing out a bullet?”

“Not even damn close.”

“So why are your hands shaking?”

From your words, he paused: his gaze meeting yours for only the briefest moment, as he spoke. “I’m your only fucking chance at getting this bullet out fast enough to avoid infection, so how ‘bout you keep your mouth shut and let me focus?”

With an arched brow, you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth—only to bite down, hard, as he dipped in the tweezers.

“Jesus—“

“I know, darlin’.” His voice was deep, as his other hand moved to massage your shoulder. “Just breathe for me, yeah? In and out.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your heavy breaths, yet his hand on your shoulder helped.

His voice and the familiar depth of it were grounding.

“Keep talking,” you managed, brows knitted. “Please.”

“I don’t—“

“Tell me a stupid joke, or—or fucking yell at me for not listening to your orders. Whatever gets you talking.”

“Fine.” Ghost cursed under his breath, as his fingers kept on working on your shoulder. “So there's Bob, yeah?"

“Who the fuck is Bob?”

“Just—fucking listen. Bob hasn't got any arms.”

“What happened to his arms?”

“Sarge.”

“Sorry.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Not Bob.”

"I—" Your laugh was breathless, as you shook your head. “I sort of wish you had yelled at me instead. That was the worst fucking knock knock joke I’ve heard since—“

“Yeah, well. It was long enough to keep you distracted.” He lifted up the tweezers, between which a small bullet glimmered in the dim light of the shack. “Intact.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathed out, as he dropped the bullet on your open palm. “I’m so keeping this as a trophy.”

“It wasn’t your fucking first one, was it?”

You arched a brow with a warm laugh, fingers now playing with the bloodied piece of metal. “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

“Doubt luck had much to do with it.” Though his eyes did not meet yours—he was busy looking for a gauze to bandage you with—you could hear the touch of annoyance in his voice.

You had fucked up. 

“Look, Lt.—“

“I gave you a simple fucking order to fall back.”

“Ghost, I—“

“A fucking rookie would understand what it means when their superior tells them to fall the fuck back.” His fingers kept fumbling with the med-kit, despite the gauze being right beside his hand.

He couldn’t even look at you, could he? 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck did you not fall back?”

His gaze avoiding yours had been hard to handle, yet as he lifted his head and his eyes met yours, the anger, and frustration, and goddamn desperation in them was like a dagger through your heart.

“Because there were too fucking many of them, Ghost.” Your brows knitted, as you shook your head with your frustration. “Because if I hadn’t stayed, you would have been the one to take a fucking bullet for some simple goddamn A-to-B mission.”

“As your superior, it is my fucking job to evaluate the situation, sergeant.” His voice was laced with the same frustration that played in your voice. “The last fucking place I wanted you to be was—“

“Beside you, when everything went south? There were fucking six of them in full riot gear and a basket full of grenades as if they were goddamn apples. There was no fucking way you were going to walk out of there without—“

Without getting hurt. 

“Why the fuck do you think I wanted you gone?”

So that you would be safe.

So that one of you would live.

“You knew we wouldn’t make it,” you managed, your voice cracking with your realization. 

“I knew one of us could.”

Fucking—

“Asshole.”

Ghost snapped his gaze up, his brows furrowed. “Wanna fucking repeat that, sarge?”

“I called you an asshole. I—” You shook your head, frustrated, as an unbelieved laugh bubbled from your lips. “Let me get this straight. This entire time you were mad at me because I took a fucking bullet saving your ass when you were planning on doing the same for me? Do you fucking—do you hear yourself talk?”

“That’s not the fucking—“

“So me refusing to leave the side of someone I care about is the biggest goddamn crime out there, but you expected me to just—what?—continue my life out there after losing you like nothing fucking happened? Like the person I love didn’t just fucking die protecting me?”

“It was you or me, sarge. It was—“ He paused. 

A second passed, followed by another.

And that—that’s when it hit you.

You let it slip, didn't you?

He blinked. “What did you just—“

“Don’t,” you managed, your eyes blinking shut as your breath clung to your throat. “Ghost. Don’t.”

“Repeat what you said, sergeant.”

“No.”

“That’s a fucking order, sarge.”

With a deep breath, you spoke. “I asked you if you expected me to continue my life as if the person I loved didn’t just die—“

“Protecting you.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you mean it?”

“Ghost—“

“Answer my fucking question.”

“Yes.”

Even with your eyes remaining closed, you could hear the deep breath that passed his lips. 

“Fucking hell, love.”

“Can we just forget I—” You shook your head. “We could just forget.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the way he swallowed, thick, as he shifted on the floor of the shed of which silence was suddenly deafening. And then, he continued. "Yeah. Or we could just fucking stop pretending like this hasn't been—" He blew out a deep breath. "It's been fucking months, love. We could forget, or we could just fucking stop pretending like we didn't have it in for each other from the first goddamn moment you walked in. Like it hasn't been months of wanting to—"

Kiss him.

Touch him.

Scream the three little words at him.

And despite the spinning of your head, your chuckle was warm as it passed your lips. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say I had it in for you from the moment I saw you. It did take somewhere between one to twelve hours for—" 

From the feeling of his hand reaching for your cheek, the words died down on your lips, now slightly parted.

"For—?"

"What?"

"You didn't finish your sentence," he mused. He was closer now, as the back of his hand caressed your skin. Soft and gentle: so at odds with the roughness of his voice, and the size of his hand, slightly calloused. 

So at odds with the way that the two of you had been going for each other's throats for ten months.

So fucking welcome of a change.

"I think I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"That's a first," he chuckled. "Think I like it more when you talk."

"Think I like it more when you shut the f—," your brows furrowed, as your words were cut off. Yet this time, it was not because you did not know what to say, or because he was too impatient to let you finish. 

This time your words were cut off by Ghost’s lips on yours.

You knew better than to open your eyes, as he moved closer to you. You knew better than to push it, as his fingers closed around your wrist and brought it to the side of his neck.

Permission to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin against yours, as your lips deepened the kiss. Warm and passionate, driven by months of built-up frustration and yearning, and something so much softer and gentler. 

Something loving.

Something meant to be. 

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost cod x reader

[skxllz]

18+

“ fuck- ” lip hissed through his teeth while his fingers gripped the back of your head. his brows were drawn together, chin dipped down, “ easy, pup. let up- teeth, teeth- ”

the two of you had been studying for finals when you gained the silliest idea to set your hand abroad his inner thigh. even though you n’ lip been together for three months, neither of you had made any moves to do anything surprisingly. and that's only because, you were a virgin and inexperienced. lip knew this before he even started to hang out with you — and often, he teased you about it, before and after you two even dated.

it's just, even though lip could be a horny little fucker, he had some respect. he wasn't an entire asshole and he wouldn't do anything until you wanted to. so, when you curved your thumb over the fabric of his jeans where the south meets, he could only jump and shoot his hand out to meet your own.

you were left giggling, innocently looking at your notebook full of notes and the textbook lying next to you. all while lip was staring you down as if you somehow just said the most absurd shit he's ever heard.

he grabbed your hand then, and moved it slowly away from him; setting it back amongst the bed. and as he settles his head against the wall, eyeing you for a moment, he considers that you're toying with him — right before going back to his own studying; pressing his pen against the lined paper of his journal.

but you placed your hand to his thigh again.

that's when lip knew you wanted to go further than just kissing; than just touching over each other's bodies. and he asked permission, if you were truly serious. because, if you were, he needed to know — needed to know so that those dirty little fantasies he's been havin’ could possibly be brought to life.

you confirmed with a little, sheepish smile and a nod of your head that you wanted more. more than just little make out sessions and lingering pulls of clothing. and that was lip's go-to ta’ close his textbook.

that's how you two ended up in the position you were in. lip, sat at the end of the bed with his legs propped up, leaning against the wall. you were bent in front of him, your head displayed over his lap, trying your best to swallow his cock. he was teachin’ you, little by little — and you were getting the hang of it, a quick learner, but your teeth kept scrapin’ him.

you ended up hollowing your cheeks at his command and rounding your lips over your teeth with a hum — only then to look up at him for approval. with the way his eyes rolled back, a low groan releasing from his throat, you could only imagine you were doing something right.

“ goooood girl, ” lip grunted, gliding his digits up into your tresses, “ fuck, jus’ like that. slower- there y’go. ”

he guided your head down, bucking his hips up- then stilling. he held your head there, wriggling just a bit as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. it felt so fucking good. like heaven, and he was basking in it.

lip could feel as your throat squeezed him, your gag reflex acting on instinct with the flex of his hips as he withdrew. while you sucked in a breath, as soon as he exited your mouth, he grinned down at you; stroking his cock with one hand.

“ did so good, baby.. ” he cooed, petting your hair with his other hand, “ so good for me. ”

you coughed slightly, but let out a laugh, little tears sticking to the corners of your eyes and lashes. “ thank you... I - ” you cleared your throat, “ I wanna do ‘t again. ”

“ yeah? ” lip rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, then nodded his head down. “ go ‘head, pup. show me whatcha’ got. ”

#lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher blurb #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #shameless us

[thegnomelord]

Congrats on the 500! I'd like to see prompt 14 with Ghost and Soap but it's the reader dealing out the punishment.

Thanks mate :D My inner kinkster came out and this got waaaayyy longer than I expected it to be, hope ya'll like it :D. Play the game HERE:

Prompt: "I’m in a good mood today, you may choose your punishment this time but only if you ask for it politely."

CW:NSFW, puppy play, puppy Simon and Soap, GN reader, bondage, spanking, overstimulation, BDSM, orgasm denial, numerous orgasms, Dom/Sub dynamic, my inner kinkster came out.

Johnny pants against his lips as they thrust both of their cocks into the fleshlight between them, slick lube and precum wetly 'squelch' inside the silicone hole when Johnny bucks his hips, gripping Ghost like a lifeline. Ghost can't believe he let Soap coerce him like this— to go into your shared bedroom to steal the fleshlight you use to reward them and fuck it when you've given them a direct order not to cum without you.

But with all of you so busy the frustration had been steadily building in their bones for weeks now and it wasn't like you'd ever find you; they'd be quick about it, just a quick rut and then clean up like they had never been there — That's how Johnny had justified it, whimpering so sweetly against Simon's ear as he grinded against Ghost's leg.

"Yeah, fock, just like that Si," Johnny groans at the tightness both of their cocks make of the fleshlight, shivers racing down his spine as Simon presses him further against the wall. "C'mon, clo-I'm close-"

"Johnny, actin' like a desperate slut there." Ghost growls and bites Soap's shoulder, cock throbbing at the way his words make Johnny moan, the fleshlight getting slicker from Soap's precum.

The sound of the door opening rings like an executioner's gavel. Simon yanks the toy off their cocks the moment his brain registers the sound. "Simon! Oh you focker-" He slaps a hand over Johnny's mouth before he can make things worse, the rough move finally drawing Johnny's attention to you. Slut, Simon want's to call him when Johnny's cock twitches upon meeting your gaze, no doubt burning even hotter from being caught.

Simon knows they're in deep shit when, upon finding them fucking a toy pussy like mongrel mutts, all you do is smirk. "Well look at you two." You hum, eyes momentarily flickering to the used toy Simon had flung across the room. "I'm in a good mood today," Walking up to them and scruffing them both gently. Too gently. "You may choose your punishment this time, but only if you ask nicely."

Dumb little Soap perks up at your words, unable to notice the dark look in your eyes when all of his blood is rushing south into his throbbing cock. The fucker bites Ghost's fingers and the moment Simon jerks back from surprise Soap's on his knees, nuzzling his head into your groin. "Please bonnie-" He breathes out, sticking out his bottom lip and forcing watery tears to prickle the corners of his eyes. "-need tae cum, please, want tea cum so bad." Soap's clever, knows how to make himself look so pathetic you can't help but indulge the little glutton; but not clever enough.

You card your fingers through his short mohawk, a soft smile tugging on your lips as his cock bobs uselessly against your boot. "My little puppy wants to cum for his punishment huh?" Soap nods his head frantically, melting against your leg as he thinks he's won you over; think's he's escaped your wrath; thinks he's safe.

Ghost knows better, sees the mischievous look in your eyes. "And you?" You ask him, choosing to ignore Soap when he starts grinding his cock against your boot, "How do you want to be punished?" Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, letting him know it's not a question he has time to ponder.

Numerous punishments run through his mind, all bound to leave him pleasantly aching for days, but he choses the one most likely to give him a release- "Spanking."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline and even Soap stops his grinding to look at him, muttering a smug 'blimey dumbarse' under his breath. "Is that so?" You ask, your tone reminding him of your previous words.

"Please," He manages to say, biting on his bottom lip. "I've been bad, need to be punished." A shiver races down his spine in the way your eyes light up, something foreboding gnawing on his bones as you ruffle his hair.

"If you say so," You glance between both of them. "On the bed then, clothes off." You say, stepping away to go grab their toys, expecting them to comply.

Soap still thinks he's safe, eagerly stripping bare without a care, whining and tugging Simon's clothes off when he feels like Ghost is going too slow. But a bad and hot feeling stirs in Simon's stomach when he catches sight of what you bring back; rope, collars, a puppy mask, plugs, a paddle and the toy they both hate- the vibrating cock ring and plug combo that can edge them for hours without letting them cum.

"Since you're the one who brought Simon down to your level, you don't get to talk tonight." You growl as you fasten the collar and puppy mask on Soap's face, the muzzle turning him mute as the matching pink collars humiliate them both wonderfully. Before Soap can even begin to struggle upon seeing the hated toy you quickly tie him up, hands above his head and legs spread with his knees near his chest.

"Shhh-" You shush Soap as you push a lubed finger into him, more to get his hole slick than to stretch him out. "-you're the one who wanted this puppy," Soap growls pitifully when you replace your finger with the plug; it's slender and long, not even as thick as your finger, but the curve in it's neck forces the bulbous head to press against his prostate. "And don't you worry, you'll be cumming until you can't." The dark promise in your words has Soap squirming, the way you harshly put the cock ring on him making Soap squirm and yip as if that'll be enough to change your mind.

"Now as for you-" You're a little softer with Ghost, gentle but firm hands spreading him on his belly so his head's resting between Soap's thighs, so close to Johnny's cock he could kiss the red tip. "For every 10 spanks Johnny will get to cum," Your lubed fingers breaching Simon's ass makes him groan, his walls clamping on your fingers and a bead of precum seeping into the sheets against his cock every time your fingers press massage over his prostate. "You aren't allowed to cum." Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, whole body shuddering and nodding his head as you push a second finger inside him to squeeze the special spot inside him between two fingers; he's already used to this trick, knows how to tense his leg to stave off orgasm.

"If you can reach 60 spanks without cuming, I'll let you fuck him." You add, removing your fingers to push the broad head of a tail plug against his pulsing rim. It's not the vibrating kind, thank god, but Soap watches transfixed how Ghost's mouth opens in a silent moan as his his walls are forced to stretch around the large insertion. "Fail, or let Johnny cum without getting your spanks in, and your cock's joining Johnnie's in a cage for a few weeks." The plug, thankfully, doesn't press right on his prostate like Soap's, but the playful swat you give his rump has a strangled moan falling from his lips as the head of the plug bashing against that special spot inside him. "Am I understood?"

"Crystal." Ghost breathes out, his eyes already getting bleary. He can see your reflection in Soap's eyes, knows when you pick up the paddle by the way Johnny's dick twitches against his face. The sudden smack against the fat of his arse has him wheezing out a "One-" his cheeks jiggling from the force, the skin reddening soon after.

Just watching you spank Simon has Johnny's cock leaking, every number moaned in Simon's rough voice making his cock throb. The way Ghost's eyes close when a new smack of the paddle has that large plug brushing against his prostate makes Soap clench pitifully around the inactive plug inside him, wanting something bigger. The dead toys inside and around Soap's cock come to life the second Simon growls out a "Ten.", causing Soap to moan.

You push Simon's gasping mouth down on Soap's cock, putting the paddle down to firmly grope his reddening cheeks as encouragement. They're both such masochists that it works like a charm, a sharp pinch of his ass getting Simon to messily suck and slurp down his dick while Johnny whines and trembles, assaulted with sensation until he cums inside Simon's mouth with a loud whine. Simon swallows down it all without complaint, barely fast enough to pop off Johnny's cock to croak out an "Eleven-" when the paddle spanks his flesh again.

Johnny whines, thighs trembling pitifully as he realizes the vibrations don't stop after his orgasm. Simon notices the way Johnny's whines grow soft again, the Scott tumbling towards orgasm faster than the leisurely pace you're spanking Ghost with. Without thinking he reaches out to grab the base of his cock with a firm grip, his fist like a secondary cock ring, Ghost's hand keeping Johnny's hips pinned until you smack his rear again-"Twenty!"- and Soap cums the second his fist eases, splashing his sweaty chest with his cum.

You look up to see Soap's cheeks stained with tears, chest rising and falling rapidly with disformed hiccups as the toys just continue to vibrate on max. Simon's skin is also starting to from bright to dark red in some places, the force behind each slap ensuring he'll be able to feel this punishment for weeks.

Soap's shaking his head desperately by the time Simon grounds out "Thirty-" and it takes a few sharp pinches to his aching rear to get Ghost's mouth back on Johnny's cock, but even half blissed out as he is he knows how to make Soap cum, running his teeth along the oversensitive vein along the bottom of his cock and nibbling a bit on his swollen balls enough to force him into another orgasm.

At "Fo-forty!" there's a growing damp spot of pre beneath Simon as he tries desperately to keep his cock from brushing against the sheets. "Fuck...Fifty-" Comes soon after and both of them are so fucked out that Soap can only manage a weak spurt of cum, whole cock as red as Simon's rear.

"You two are doing so well," You praise, tracing the rapidly blooming bruises from the swell of Simon's arse to the middle of his thighs, purposely tugging on his tail to have him moan around Johnny's length, his cock weakly spurting a small dollop of precum onto the sheets as the wide head of the plug grinds against his prostate. "Just, one more, you can do it."

You wait for a few seconds after Soap cums again for Simon to settle against his legs, his body so worn out by the constant abuse on his prostate that he doesn't even notice when he nuzzles into Soap's aching cock. Only then do you strike again, abstaining from the paddle to smack the reddening flesh with the flat of your hand just so you can grope his cheek, making the plug insistently shift inside him.

"Fifty- shit, Fifty one..." Simon slurs like he's drunk, both of them long past tears. You draw out the last 9 slaps, groping and pinching his aching skin and loving how Simon groans and drools against Soap's cock. "Sixty, ah! Sixty!" Simon howls with the final slap, whole body feeling like it's ready to fall apart, his brain desperately clinging to his skull when the rest of him is ready to leak through his dick. There's a painful cramp in his stomach from having to hold off so long, having long since replaced the jealousy he'd felt at having Soap cum again and again while he's kept on the edge of a knife.

"Such a good boy Simon," You coo softly, even a gentle rub of his flesh causing him to hiss and attempt to wiggle away from your hand. You catch his eye as he stares back at you, Soap's cum staining his hair as his cock rests against Simon's face.

Soap can barely lift his head to look at you, eyes blurry as he tries to convey that he can't cum any more, his cock throbbing from the constant stimulation. When you turn off the vibrators he swears he'd cry tears of joy if there was anything left in him, body so lax he feels like a puddle.

Then you sneak a hand down to feel Simon's dick, still achingly hard , chuckling when Simon groans and bites down weakly on Soap's thigh. "How about it boy? Ready for your reward?" You laugh as your words make both of them twitch, Soap's hole clenching needily on the slim neck of the plug as the thought of having something thick spread him open cuts through the fog of overstimulation and exhaustion like a knife.

You smirk for Johnny and easily slide the vibrating plug out of him, receiving a whine from Johnny like he's hurt. You shush them gently, having to support Simon as you reposition his cockhead against Soap's twitching hole.

"Go on then, good boy," You chuckle, "Take your reward Simon,"

#gnome correspondence #Gnome's prompt game #cod mw2 #x reader #john soap mactavish #trinkets from the hoard #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #top reader #top gn reader #top male reader #puppy sub #puppy Ghost #Puppy Soap #ghoap #ghoap x reader #cod mwii #cod smut

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[sanjoongie]

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐

ღPairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

ღAu: office au, single parent au

ღTrope: Rivals to Lovers

ღGenre: fluff, pure and simple

ღRating: PG, MDNI (regardless of the genre I do not allow minors to interact with my work)

ღWarnings: Wooyoung is a little shit, child temper tantrum, slightly spoiled child rearing, you will fall in love with petal and wooyoung with petal

ღWord Count: 1,037

ღSummary: when you inexplicably have to bring your daughter to work, she bonds with the one person you wished she wouldn't

ღBeta's: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland who will beta even the softest of soft fluff for me

ღDedication: @smallfrye & @starlitmark my bbs who love the dad/single parent aus. this one is for you. and to @daesukiii my favorite wooyoung stan who just about lost it when i told her about this

ღInspired by this. Enjoy this soft fic for the easter long weekend 💞

ღdivider by @cafekitsune

You knew it was a bad idea to bring your daughter to your office while you worked but when your fucker of an ex-husband dumped her on you--on his week--and your babysitter gone south for the week, you were out of options.

You knew it was a bad idea but the feeling didn’t cement until you saw her with Jung Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was everything you hated in a coworker. He was lazy, he was always playing around at work and most importantly, he somehow managed to get everything done. As someone who worked diligently at the software company, Wooyoung was the one person you hated to interact with. 

So seeing your daughter patiently draw flowers on some printer paper, explaining to him which ones were her favorite and which ones were her Mama’s favorite, hit a nerve.

“Petal, what are you up to?” You chirped, sitting opposite of her at the lunch table.

“I’m teaching Wooyoungie about flowers,” Your daughter informed you solemnly. 

Wooyoungie. Uh oh. 

You hummed in acknowledgement. Wooyoung wore a tiny smile of smugness which you couldn't contend while in front of your daughter. “Is he listening?” You asked.

Your daughter nodded. “Yes, Mama,” she responded, completely focused on the task at hand, which was struggling to draw the shape of lilies. 

“Am I a good listener, Petal?” Wooyoung prompted from your daughter.

You glared over the precious head of your daughter. She was normally very shy, how the hell did he coax her to sit on his lap and draw? Not to mention, you did not appreciate your rival using your pet name for your daughter. 

Your daughter stopped drawing and looked up at Wooyoung like he hung the stars in the sky. She smiled brightly and nodded and then went back to her drawing. Fuck.

Wooyoung preened, pleased at the praise. You rolled your eyes. “Well, it’s lunch now, Petal. Remember how Mama said she’d take you to your favorite place?”

“Chicken nuggies, Chicken nuggies!” Your daughter chanted, bouncing in Wooyoung’s lap. “Can Wooyoungie come too?”

“No, Petal, it’s just--” you and me never left your mouth because your daughter threw a fit.

“That’s not fair!” She threw her pencil across the room and raged. “I want Wooyoungie to come!”

You opened your mouth to scold your daughter but Wooyoung somehow got to it first. “Now Petal,” He said patiently. He turned your daughter around so that he could look at her face to face. “That’s no way to act at Mama’s workplace. And we say chicken nuggets not chicken nuggies.”

Oh this bitch. You bristled at Wooyoung correcting your daughter, even though that was exactly what you were going to say. She was your daughter, not his. Who was he--?

Your daughter’s lower lip pushed out, her voice sounding wobbly. “But Wooyoungie!”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Apologize to Mama.”

“Mama,” Your daughter wailed softly, crocodile tears building up at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re forgiven,” You said quickly. “Wooyoungie can come.” You winced at mimicking your daughter.

“Yay!” Tears gone and forgotten, it seemed, as she threw her arms around Wooyoung’s neck and proclaimed him the best.

Lunch went surprisingly well. Wooyoung coaxed your daughter to eat pretty much everything. You had to school your face when he let her feed him. You actually managed to eat your own food since Wooyoung had your daughter preoccupied. Back at the office, you were able to work, even though every so often you looked over your monitor to see Wooyoung and your daughter seemingly having the time of their lives. It grated against your nerves that your daughter was practically in love with your rival at work but you couldn't help but acknowledge how well behaved she was because of his presence. 

Before you knew it, it was the end of the day, and a moment you were lowkey dreading. You had to tell your daughter that it was time to say goodbye to Wooyoung and you knew she was going to throw a fit. 

“Petal, time to say goodbye to Wooyoung, okay? He’s gotta go home now, we’re done work,” You spoke sweetly to your stubborn daughter.

“No,” Your daughter said petulantly, “I don’t want to.” Her chubby arms were wound around Wooyoung’s neck so tightly, you were surprised he wasn’t choking.

Wooyoung bounced your young daughter in his arms like. “Hear that? She doesn’t want to.”

“You’re not helping things, Wooyoung,” You growled.

“Mama~!” Your daughter started up again. “I’m staying with Wooyoung.”

You winced. “Petal, you can’t stay with Wooyoung, he has his own home to go to, and we do too.”

“Don't want to,” Your daughter refused again.

“She doesn’t want to!” Wooyoung reaffirmed.

You began to rub your temples. Other than ripping your crying child from Wooyoung’s arms, you didn’t know what else you could do. 

“Guess you’re coming home with me, huh?” Wooyoung said to your daughter, which caused your heart to leap into your throat. In fact, you were two steps towards him before you could stop yourself.

“Mmmm,” Your daughter agreed, playing with Wooyoung’s necklace. 

You set aside your pride and pleaded with your rival. “Wooyoung, please.”

Wooyoung cuddled your daughter to his chest, placing a hand delicately on her head--and over her ears. “Listen, come back to my place. Let her tire herself out and then you can take her home when she falls asleep.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Wooyoung? Being reasonable?

He had the decency to look slightly bashful. “I kinda egged her on. Let me buy you dinner?”

The look in his eyes was a little too hopeful but you dismissed it. “Fine. But this is a one-off time, Wooyoung.”

Your daughter struggled in Wooyoung’s arms, wanting to hear what the adults were saying. “Wooyoungie’s home?” She said, with almost a similar, hopeful, look in her eyes.

You sighed heavily. “Yes, Petal, we’ll go to Wooyoungie’s.” 

You visibly winced at mimicking your daughter again. Wooyoung didn’t let it go a second time, however. He winked at you and said, “Hopefully you’ll start calling me Wooyoungie at work.”

“Don’t even Wooyoung,” You said under your breath.

And Wooyoung had a smug smile on his face the entire elevator ride down.

taglist: @hijirikaww @k-pop-ology

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung fluff #atz fluff #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung x reader #topaz's work #ღatz #recent

[moni-logues]

Up All Night

Pairing: JK x reader

Genre: smut/pwp, neighbours/enemies-to-well, not really lovers, not even really fuckers lmao

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: You've moved into a nice, new apartment but there's just one problem: your noisy neighbour with the voice of an angel who insists on doing karaoke in the small hours. You decide it's about time to tell him off and get a whole lot more than you bargained for.

Content: oral sex (f. receiving), protected sex (well... sort of... you'll see!), dom!JK, slight bratty reader, bit of spanking, bit of biting, overstimulation, alcohol consumption

A/N: JK said middle of the night karaoke (again!) so here we are (again!) lmao. Originally written for M @here2bbtstrash. Not edited for reposting.

* * *

The previous tenant of your new apartment had assured you that there were no issues with the apartment, the landlord, the building, the management company, or the neighbours. It was peaceful, quiet, they had said. They were clearly lying.

You pull the pillow off your head and huff, frowning into the darkness of your bedroom. You check the clock: 2am. 2am. Who does karaoke at 2am on a Wednesday?! You put the pillow back over your face and scream into it; you can’t hear it yourself over the noise of your next-door neighbour’s wailing and warbling. This has been going on long enough.

He has no set pattern, no set routine, it seems, so it’s not even as if you can plan your life around it. At weekends, you don’t mind; people can do what they like at the weekend; you’re not immune to fun! And, truth be told, he has a nice voice; at least he can actually sing well. But cranking up the karaoke machine at midnight on a weeknight is pushing it. And you’re at your limit. You’re supposed to be sleeping but your heart is hammering as anger floods your system, blood roaring in your ears, your patience so worn, it’s transparent.

It’s almost project deadline time which means a) there is more work to do than there has ever been because, obviously, everyone is running behind and no one is ready and b) very important meetings with the clients to explain why you’re behind and how, actually, it’s fine and ok and you are all good at your jobs even though nothing is ready. It would be stressful and exhausting on 8-hours a night, but you were scraping through with three or four thanks to your pop-star wannabe neighbour.

Silence. Has he stopped? Is it over?

A new song starts. The single thread with which you had been hanging on snaps and you sit bolt upright in bed. Something has to be done.

You run a hand through your hair, put on a top and some trousers, and take a deep breath before stomping out of your apartment to stand at the door of the apartment to the right. You can still hear him out here.

You thump on the door, four heavy-handed, side-fisted thumps. No answer. You try again, harder and more this time. No answer. You consider going back to your apartment for a pair of boots to try to kick the door (or kick the door in, either way) when it finally swings back.

“Oh,” is what comes out. Your brain has fallen out of your ears.

You hadn’t given much thought to what your neighbour might look like; it certainly hadn’t occurred to you that he might look like that: all tall and dark and handsome, with those huge, brown eyes, and... and... see-through pyjamas. You bite your lip as he looks at you, confused but friendly; you still dimly remember why you had been knocking at his door in the middle of the night but, somehow, you can’t get your mouth to move.

“Are you ok?” he asks, brows creasing in concern. His pink tongue pokes briefly out of his lips as he sucks his lip ring into his mouth and you are transfixed. Your poor brain is scrambling to try to get you to say anything when all your body’s attention is somewhere far south of that. You gulp.

“You are loud,” you say and groan internally at yourself. Get a grip!!! He’s just a man! He’s a man who’s keeping you up! He’s a man you came here to tell off!

Yeah, but he’s a man that looks like that.

Your eyes move from his mouth to his hands, still holding his karaoke mic. Little tattoos on his hand, bigger tattoos moving up his arm, his muscled, well-defined arm. Your heart skips a beat when you imagine that hand around your throat and that beat is taken up with a throb in your core.

“Uh, oh, the karaoke? Is it too loud?”

“Yes,” you answer weakly, your voice disappearing as he scrunches up his nose and ruffles the hair at the back of his head, bashful. You wish you had thought to put on underwear beneath your pyjamas; your nipples are hard, all too visible underneath the pale vest and you can feel your arousal between your legs. You cross one foot in front of the other and squeeze your thighs together.

You’re ashamed of yourself, honestly. You came to tell him to knock it off and put a sock in it and shut the fuck up because some people (clearly not him) have real jobs that require them to get up early in the mornings and use their brains which, in turn, require a good night’s sleep and yet, here you are, a mindless, gawping hole with cum for brains and one, singular thought resounding in your head.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you’d be able to hear it. I guess it is kind of late...”

“Yeah, it’s late,” you say, able only to echo what’s already been said, not daring to say more lest that thought escape out of your mouth while your brain is unavailable.

“I’m sorry, yeah, I’ll turn it down; I’ll try to be quieter next time!” His smile is glorious; he glows and you can only bask in it.

When you don’t leave, he falters.

“Um, do-.. C-… I-… Is there something else?”

Yes, there is, your brain says to you. Yes, I want to put my mouth all over your body. Yes, I want to make you sing my name. Yes, I want to fuck you and make you cum so hard, you actually shut the fuck up. Your eyes rove his body hungrily, unsupervised by your mushy brain, and when you finally meet his gaze, the look on his face is different.

The cute, baby-faced, little cherub is gone and his eyes look darker now. He raises an eyebrow at you and you swallow a whimper.

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.

You don’t respond but he moves backwards and you follow, letting him shut the door behind you. You stand awkwardly as he goes to the kitchen and gets out two shot glasses and a bottle of soju. He opens it, pours the shots and slides one along the counter in your direction.

You’re surprised, a little unsure, but you take it and down it and he refills the glass.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way.” He raises his glass at you and takes another shot.

You tell him your name and drain your glass, moving further into the room. It’s dim, main lights off, a standing lamp in the corner, one on a corner table, and a colourful, swirling lamp casting rainbows across the walls, across Jungkook’s face, across his body... There’s a mattress on the living room floor and it’s incongruent enough that it slightly shakes you from your stupor.

“Does this apartment not have a bedroom?” you ask.

Jungkook giggles, scrunching up his nose again and he sighs.

“It does. I just... also have a mattress in here...”

You don’t ask why. You don’t think you need to.

“It’s not like that,” he says, as if reading your mind. “I just... like to lie down and the sofa isn’t comfortable really, especially if I fall asleep on it. It just- I don’t know, it made sense to me.”

“You’re kind of weird, right?”

He laughs, surprised, and then shrugs.

“I don’t know. I guess. Maybe? Is that bad?”

You shake your head and move closer, putting your empty glass down next to his. He refills them both and this time, you clink them together and he holds your gaze as you sink them.

The soju has rounded your edges and you have completely forgotten your anger, forgotten your anxiety about work, forgotten about everything else outside of these four walls. It’s just you and Jungkook – that guy that you have been ranting and raving about since you moved into this apartment a few weeks ago, that guy you hated, that guy you were going to give what for... that guy with his hand on your arm, that guy moving closer to you, so close you have to tip your head back to see his face.

“Did you really come to complain about the noise?” he asks, his voice quiet and low. His hand moves to your hip, gently fingering the waistband of your trousers.

“Yes,” you whisper back, your mouth dry, adrenaline and alcohol buzzing through your system.

“Is that all?”

His face is so close to yours now; he nudges your nose with his and you can just barely feel his lips hovering over yours. You intend to close your eyes for just a second, just a second to catch your breath, but he whips it from you, closing the minute distance between you, his lips on yours, so soft, so sweet.

Your body responds before your mind has registered what’s happened. One hand rakes through his hair, the other gripping his arm; he pulls your whole body closer, wrapping an arm around you, holding you tight. He has your bottom lip in his teeth, letting go to slip his tongue into your mouth. He moans and you’re suddenly brought to your senses. You jump back and shake your head.

“No, wait, no! I did actually come here to complain about the noise! That is all! That is all! I didn’t even know who you were or what you looked like when I knocked on the door.”

Jungkook chuckles darkly.

“Yeah that much was pretty clear.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw your face when I opened the door. Not much good at poker, are you?”

He grins and you want to hate him again but he’s so cute even when he’s being smug and condescending.

“Is this how you get away with it?” you ask. “You just look like that and people let you do whatever you want, is that how it works?”

He looks taken aback, almost offended.

“What do you mean? Get away with what?”

“With this!” You fling an arm out towards the karaoke machine and gesture with the other to the microphone sitting on the kitchen counter. “It’s 2am, Jungkook! On a Wednesday! And you’re screaming into a microphone! Who does that?!”

You’re relieved that your anger is back. He is heady and intoxicating and the anger is refreshing – not to mention that getting dicked down by him will do absolutely nothing to solve the actual problem at hand.

“I didn’t know you could hear it!” He’s raising his voice now, too. “No one has ever complained before!”

“Yeah! Because you look like that!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means my brain dribbled out of my ears the second I saw you and I forgot that I fucking hate you-!”

“You can’t hate me! You don’t know me!”

“I know you enough! I know your favourite songs! And I know that I can’t fucking sleep because of you! So, I got out of bed to come over here and tell you to just fucking shut the fuck up, and then you opened the door and you’re so ridiculously good-looking that I forgot! I fucking forgot that I’m livid with you!”

“Well, I can’t help what I look like. It’s not my fault you’re attracted to me.”

“If you were a normal person who didn’t go karaoke in the middle of the night then I may never have met you, so it might not be your fault that you look like that but it’s definitely your fault that I had to find out about it.”

“So, you’d rather have never met me?” He moves closer to you again, looking down at you, licking his lips, catching the bottom one in his teeth. “Really?”

You can’t say yes. You can’t say no. You want him to just take you, to shatter the tension between you and fuck you into next week. You can’t tell him that... Can you?

“I didn’t say that, exactly,” you respond, your voice thick, your heart trapped in your throat.

“Then what are you saying?” His body is close against yours now, his hands on your skin beneath your top, sending sparks flying, a shiver down your spine as he presses his lips to your jaw.

“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook,” you growl. “You can’t just fuck your way out of this.”

“No? Can I at least try?”

He pushes his hips against you and he’s hard. He kisses your neck, licking and sucking, drawing tiny gasping breaths from your reluctant mouth. As one hand moves around and he gently pinches your nipple, you moan.

“Fine, fine,” you answer. “But this had better be really good.”

He pulls back and grins, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh I’m not worried about that.”

He slips his hands down and lifts you suddenly, carrying you with apparent ease to the mattress on the floor. Then they’re immediately at the waistband of your trousers, pulling them down your legs, throwing them across the room.

“You’re going to fuck me on the floor? Don’t I deserve better than that?” you ask, resting on your hands.

He looks up at you, his hands on your ankles. He tugs quickly and you fall back with a light squeal. You raise your head and he’s crawling over you, his eyes black.

“I’ll fuck you on the actual floor if you’re not careful,” he warns, voice low and steady, sending a spark straight to your core.

“Is that right?”

You know that he could rip you in half without breaking a sweat but you don’t want to make it easy for him. He chuckles and rolls his eyes, shaking his head so that his hair falls forward and tickles your face.

“Are you always such a brat?”

He takes your jaw in his hand, resting his full weight on the other, and grips it tightly. He considers you for a moment: your pupils wide, mouth open, breathing heavy. Then he loosens his grips, strokes a thumb over your cheek.

“Why don’t you try being a good girl?”

“Fuck you.”

His hand snakes to your neck, wraps around your throat.

“Is this ok?” he asks quietly and you nod fervently.

“Then why don’t you try saying that again.” The difference in his voice sends more arousal pooling at the crux of your legs. He’s commanding, authoritative, in charge. You’re already aching, desperate for him.

“F-”

As you go to speak, his hand squeezes hard on your throat, cutting you off. His eyes bore into yours and he lets go.

“Sorry, what was that?”

As you open your mouth to reply, he squeezes again. You kick your legs and squirm beneath him even after he lets go. He lowers his face to yours and kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

His hand squeezes once more then lets go your throat and travels down your torso. He kneels back and hooks the hem of your vest under his thumbs.

“If you’re a good girl,” he tells you, lifting your top over your head and discarding it, “Then I’ll be good to you...” He presses kisses against your throat and chest and he sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling it with his tongue and you can’t stop your hips bucking below him. Releasing you with a pop, he continues. “But if you insist on being a brat...” He kneels up and gives a swift, sharp slap to your pussy. You gasp and his face switches back, cute and open and concerned; he mouths the question ‘are you ok? Is this ok?’ and you nod, nod, nod.

“Yes, yes, please.” Like a doll with a ring-pull in her back, it’s all you can say.

“So tell me,” and it’s authoritative Jungkook back again, “Are you going to be good or are you going to be a brat?”

He sits and waits for your answer, slowing unbuttoning his shirt, keeping his eyes on you. You don’t know the answer. You just know you want him, desperately; the need in your centre is so strong, it’s almost painful; your walls are fluttering, clenching around nothing; arousal almost pouring out of you onto this stupid mattress on the floor. You’re shameless with desire. You’ll do anything, anything to have him inside you.

“I asked you a question. Are you going to be a good girl or are you going to be a brat? Don’t make me ask a third time.” His voice is sharp and he stands to take off his trousers and boxers.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he’s finally naked, his prick standing proud before him. Your mouth waters and your pussy floods at the sight. “Good, good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” The words tumble from your mouth in a rush and you sit up, about to get to your knees when he pushes you back down. “I’ll be good, I swear,” you whisper. “Just please-”

“Please what, princess?” He’s sweet now, indulgent, his lips back on your neck as his fingers trail down your stomach.

“Please touch me.”

“Touch you? Oh, but I am touching you. Look-” He gestures with his free hand to where his other dances his fingers across your stomach. Kneeling, he pulls your legs apart, settling them over his legs, stroking your thighs.

“No,” you whine, rolling your hips as if there is anything there to roll them against. You can feel a bead of sweat roll down your spine as Jungkook hitches you higher, pulling you closer so that you can feel his cock rest against your clit. You whine again but he’s holding you so tight that you can’t move.

“No? No? So you don���t want this?” He presses his thumb into your swollen, throbbing clit and you keen, grasping the blankets in your fists.

“Please, yes, please, that.”

“You like that?” He moves his thumb in slow circles and you think you might explode with need. You’re so wet and so sensitive and your head is swimming as your body tingles all over, as if the surface of your skin is sparkling water, bubbles rising and popping, goosebumps sprinkled from top to bottom.

“Yes, yes- ahh, yes, fuc- yes.. But-”

“But?”

“More. Need more.”

Jungkook sighed and removed his hand.

“No,” you cried, trembling with desire. “Please.”

“That’s right, princess, you ask nicely now.”

“Please, please touch me,” you beg, unravelling with unmet desire. “Please, Jungkook-, hngh-”

His thumb is back and insistent now and you moan as he finally slips two fingers into your wet, aching cunt.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

“Mm, yeah, I like it when you say my name like that.”

“Jungkook, mm- fuck... Faster.. Please.”

“As you wish.”

Pleasure coils tight inside you as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing hard against your front wall. Your walls begin to clench against his fingers and your muscles tighten as he brings you to the edge.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please...” You repeat over and over, your mind barely present, only conscious of your climax, closer and closer, so, so close until Jungkook stops. “What? What?” You look at him, wild-eyed and he grins like snake. “Why?” You sound petulant, you can hear it yourself, but you were so close and you need it so badly.

“You’re just so wet, princess. I don’t think I can go another second without tasting you.”

You expect him to curl forward, shuffle towards the edge of the bed, and bring his mouth to you, but he wraps his arms and around your waist and hoists you upward, bringing your burning core to him. You’re virtually upside-down, his cock pressed against your back. Keeping one arm tight around you, Jungkook slips his other hand under your opposite shoulder making sure you don’t slip, and then he kisses your thighs and your puffy outer lips and he licks the crease of your hip and you’re whining, squirming, his hot breath against you torturous, tantalising.

The blood is rushing to your head and your vision swims as he finally puts his lips where it matters. He licks through your folds and you moan, free and wanton, your breath hitching, voice breaking when he flicks your clit, then seals his lips around it.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ah-.. Jesus- fuck.”

You can barely move as he’s holding you so tightly, so securely as he sucks hard at your tight pearl, as he licks through your folds, as he pushes his tongue inside you, drinking you greedily, hungrily, insatiably. He moans and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’re dizzy but you don’t know if it’s being upside down or if it’s being licked and sucked and slurped at as if Jungkook’s life depends on it.

He doesn’t move his mouth from you, moaning and groaning, sending vibrations through your core until you’re light-headed. You’re back on the edge as he sucks at your clit, the soft pad of his tongue rubbing over you; your walls are clenching, your hands are shaking, your thighs trembling as pressure builds. You glance up at him: eyes closed in concentration, brows together frowning into you, tiny hairs sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“Fuck, Jungk-”

Your orgasm takes the rest of his name from your mouth, replacing it with a long, loud whine. Even he can’t stop you squirming as pleasure pours over you. Colours and patterns dance in front of your eyes as your whole body starts to shake, toes curling, legs squeezing Jungkook’s head. But he doesn’t stop, mouth still moving against you, drinking you in like you’re an oasis and he’s been wandering the desert for forty nights.

“Jungkook!” you gasp, fingernails finding his thigh, grasping, digging. “Jungkook!”

He moans in response but doesn’t detach and you think you might die if he keeps going, don’t know if you can take anymore. You feel floppy; you feel drunk; you feel giddy and hysterical. He releases your clit and you gasp, relieved, but he hasn’t finished. He licks through your folds, wanton and in search of more.

“Jungkook, I can’t,” you whine, your voice almost breaking, tears almost pricking in your eyes.

“Be a good girl.” His voice is deep, dark, liquid as he speaks, his lips still touching your skin. It makes you shiver. It makes your empty pussy throb. “Just be a good girl, ok?”

He hoists you up another inch and your head falls between his legs, fully and completely upside-down now. You arch your back against him and his nose bumps your clit, shooting a jolt right through you. His mouth is moving slower now and you’re grateful for the reprieve but then he’s back on your screaming bundle of nerves and, no, that’s you screaming. You screaming his name, screaming yes and screaming nothing comprehensible. You feel feral, no longer human but animal, no longer aware of anything but his mouth and your cunt. Your nails dig into the flesh of his stomach but he merely growls against you, holding you tighter. You feel like you’re trapped in a riptide, rolling and swirling and tumbling, barely breathing, choking on his name in your mouth.

He pulls another orgasm from you, a shuddering, thunderous climax the likes of which you have never before experienced. Everything pulls tight like an overstretched elastic band and then it’s snapped and you’re free-falling, a wailing cry sounding far off in your ears, as if you’re out of your body. Jungkook gently shuffles backwards, lowering you to the mattress, where you lie, panting, your head spinning, every part of you feeling as if you were on another planet. Your body feels heavy and weightless at the same time, limbs like lead somehow floating above you.

He kisses your feet and your ankles and your calves. He kisses your knees and your thighs and your stomach. He kisses the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands and the crooks of your elbows. He kisses your shoulder and your neck and your ear and your cheek. He wipes the hair from your brow and gently turns your face towards him. His face is swimming in front of you as the blood still slowly levels out in your body.

“Are you ok?” he whispers, those huge, dark eyes bright and shining. The swirling colours of the kaleidoscopic lamp pass over his face and you think you might just be dreaming. He wipes at his lips and his chin, but he’s still sticky and shiny with your arousal all over him. “You ok?” he repeats.

A sound that isn’t a word leaves your lips and you frown and try again.

“Tem-… bu-… uh... Fu-…"

He giggles and kisses your cheek again, pressing his nose against you.

“You want some water?”

You can only nod as you wait for your body to come back into itself, as you wait for your brain to pick itself back up off the floor. When he brings the glass over to you, he has to help you sit up; you lean heavily against him as you gulp down the full glass in one. You gasp as you finish, water trickling down your chin and onto your chest. You lean your head back on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I... I...” You start but you don’t know what to say.

“Mm? You what?” Jungkook’s hand starts to stray, gently rubbing your side; his mouth connects to your neck again and your head falls to the side. “You were such a good girl,” he purrs and you are thrilled by the praise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so, so good for me, princess. Think you’re ready for me now?”

“Oh...”

It’s not that you don’t want it. It’s that you can barely sit upright without leaning against him, your legs all jelly and your spine a column of paper.

“It’s ok, you can say no,” he reminds you, stroking your leg.

“No, no, -”

“That’s ok.”

Jungkook shuffles behind you, laying you against the sofa while your brain strives to catch up.

“No, no, no I mean, no, I don’t mean no I-. No, YES. Yes, I mean yes.” You twist so you’re facing him and press your palms his chest – soft, firm, warm – and push yourself up. “Yes, I mean yes. Please, please fuck me.”

He grins and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re so cute when you beg.”

He kisses you, still so soft, still so sweet. Still so strong: he scoops you up in his arms and lifts you so you’re straddling him, without breaking the kiss. He sucks on your tongue and you moan, your body awakening once more. You slip your hand down and find his cock, hot and hard between your bodies, the tip slick with precum. You twitch at the thought of him inside you as your fingers don’t quite wrap all the way around him. Jungkook moans as you spread the precum around his head, thumb gently bothering the soft underside.

“Fuck, one sec.”

He sets you back down on the mattress and stumbles hastily to another room, returning with a condom in his hand. He rips it open as he kneels back down in front of you and then slips it over his tumescent length.

“You still want this?” he asks, as if the greed and desire weren’t plain in your face.

“God, yes. Please.”

“You’re so needy!” He laughs and presses a firm kiss to your lips. “That’s just how I like you, princess.”

From your kneeling position, he hooks his arms under your thighs, spreading them wide, lifting and pressing you against the edge of the sofa.

“This ok? Comfortable?”

You honestly can’t even tell. All you can feel is the deep, heavy drag of desire in your core, the persistent, empty ache of Jungkook not inside you. You nod, dumbly, and swallow as he runs the head of his cock through your soaked wet folds before pressing into you.

Oh, he’s big. He’s slow and careful as he stretches you out and you whimper, not because it hurts but because it feels so, impossibly good.

“Tell me how it feels,” he commands.

“So big,” you pant. “So good.”

“Tell me if you ne-”

“No, don’t stop.” Your hands grip his shoulders and you look him in the eye. “Do not stop. Please.”

He doesn’t stop until there’s no more left to give and he holds you there, stuffed full. You wait a moment and then another but he doesn’t move. You try to roll your hips against him but you’re held fast between the sofa and Jungkook and he is like a statue, unmoving.

“Jungkook?”

You try to catch his eye but he’s looking down at your body with his lip between his teeth.

“Jungkook.”

“What, princess? What do you need?”

He looks at you with a grin and you realise he’s just teasing you, waiting for you to beg some more. You huff and pout and look away, refusing to meet his eye again. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Uh oh,” he says, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. “Uh oh, is my good girl sulking? Have I spoilt you, princess? Given you too much of what you want already?” He grips your hair tightly and pulls your head back. “Have I created a brat out of you?”

“No,” you reply, still petulant and pouting.

“No? Then where’s my smile? Where’s my ‘please’?”

You look at him, bottom lip still jutting, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, that’s a real shame...” He starts to pull out of you, as slowly as he went in and you bite the inside of your lip to keep quiet. “I was really looking forward to fucking you, but we don’t reward bratty behaviour in this house...” As his tip reached your entrance, you grabbed his arms, no longer pouting, your eyes pleading. “Hm?” he asked. “What’s that?”

You growled and rolled your eyes and dropped your head back, taking a deep breath before snapping it back.

“Please,” you spit but Jungkook shakes his head and falls from you.

“No, no, that’s not how we ask nicely, is it?”

He drops you and you flop onto the mattress but before you can react, he’s lifting you up again, turning you around, bending you over the sofa. He presses himself against you and the two of you moan in unison. Then he smacks you hard on your right glute and you gasp.

“You ok?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what you get for being a brat.” He smacks you hard again in the same spot and you whimper. He licks over the sting and cracks you on the other side.

“Jesus!” you exclaim.

“Too much?”

“No, no, keep going.”

Another smack.

“Keep going what?”

“Keep going, Jungkook.”

And another.

“Keep going what?”

Seconds pass in tense, exhilarating silence. Your heart skips in your chest at the thrill of it, of denying him what he wants, of what he might do in return. As the seconds tick by, another and another and another, Jungkook’s hand sneaks around in front and he grabs your clit sharply and twists.

“Oh Jesus, fuck!” you cry, your head dropping onto the sofa.

Jungkook’s lips are back at your ear.

“Is it too much?” His voice is so gentle and the contrast makes you laugh.

“No, no, it’s not.”

“Ok, you say when, though ok?”

You nod and he kisses the shell of your ear.

“Please, keep going,” you say and he laughs.

“See? So, you do know how to ask nicely, eh?” He leaves a trail of kisses down your spine and rolls his hips, his dick sliding through your wet folds so that you moan. “Come on, then, princess, enough being bratty. Ask nicely for what you want.”

But you don’t want to ask nicely. Not anymore. You push your hips back against him and his hands come down, squeezing them tightly, fingers pressing hard into the skin, the muscle.

“Just fuck me, Jungkook,” you growl.

“Eh?”

You turn your head to look at him, dark, determined.

“I said, just fuck me.”

He smirked and sucked his teeth with a shake of his head.

“What a rotten princess you are, so spoilt, so quickly.”

He bends down and takes a hard bite of your bum cheek. He doesn’t let go, his teeth sinking deeper into your soft flesh as you whimper. You whimper even as fresh arousal pools inside you and your walls flutter. They flutter around nothing as you try to push back or wiggle your hips or get him to move. You hear him growl, your skin still between his teeth, and then he drops you and licks broadly over the clear, dark indentations.

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yes?”

You don’t want to beg but you are desperate for him back inside you. He can bite you and smack you and god knows what else but you need him to fuck you. You look at him over your shoulder and he smiles sweetly at you, expectantly. He plays with your folds and toys with his dick at your entrance, just waiting. You wish you could hold back the moan in your throat, wish you could stop your core clenching, wish you could just get him to fuck you.

“Come on, princess,” he says, his voice quiet, encouraging, even kind. “You can tell me...”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, I know that,” he laughs, running a hand up to your hair, tangling it there and then tugging backwards, lifting you off the sofa by it so your head rests against his collarbone. “And I,” he growls, letting your hair go and running a soft hand across your breasts, “just want you to ask nicely,” his voice sweet and soft again. These switches are giving you whiplash and you don’t know which Jungkook you want more. Any will do, you think, but then your cunt throbs at the thought of your flesh in his teeth and your resolve hardens.

“I won’t,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You won’t?” He moves backwards and your bodies are no longer touching. He continues to move and the space between you grows, causing you to shiver without the heat of him there. He sighs dramatically. “This is very disappointing. Turn around.”

You do as you’re told without a second thought and when you’re facing him, he’s kneeling and grinning at you.

“What am I going to do with you?” he muses, an evil twinkle in his eye that you are sure is not just the swirling colours of the lamp. He reaches out towards a side table and your eyes widen when you see what’s in his hand. He turns his back to you briefly, pressing buttons on a small remote. You can’t believe your ears when music fills the room and Jungkook brings the mic to his mouth.

“Any requests, princess?”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts #mmm repost

[mightypurplethunder]

I don't want to see any of you usamericans talk about "punching nazis" ever again. I don't want to hear yall pat each other on the back and say shit like "If I had been alive during the holocaust I would have done something about it", or any other white savior shit like that.

You don't care about jews, you didn't care about them back then, just as you don't care about palestinians now. Yall repeat and repeat "the holocaust was terrible, we should condemn it", not because you care, but because it lifts yourselves up. Because it's the only war that the US won where they just happened to be on "the good side", so it portrays you as heroes, warriors of justice, which happens to be excelent propaganda material, so you exploit it. You make memorials, you make films, hundreds of them, fetishizing the jewish suffering and portraying yourselves as the force of good that saved them all. Meanwhile, dozens of other genocides - many of them even bigger and bloddier than the holocaust - happen around the world, many of them endorsed or supported by your government. But yall don't care. It's not the holocaust. You're not the good guys in this one so why bother making a movie, why pay atention to it at all? It's hard to keep track of everything happening in the world, it has nothing to do with you. So you just keep scrolling your socials paying no mind to whatever fucked up shit is happening out there, until you run into some fucker from the global south posting something mildly critical of israel, or about how the United States shamelessly exploits jewish history for the sake of warfare, or how victim mentality is a dangerous thing for a marginalized group to hold on to, and you get furious. How dare they say things that don't align with the narrative I've been fed my whole life?? They are anti-semitic!! They hate jews!! They are nazis!! And you tell them so, you put them in their place, because you are a democrat and a good guy and you won't tolerate nazis. And then you reblog "support our troops" posts and write letters to your president begging him to bomb brown people on the other side of the planet because they are terrorists, I think. And I'm here to tell you that you are not the good guy, you are not a hero. You are a victim of indoctrination and an idiot, and your domestic white politics mean absolutely nothing to the rest of the world.

Yes, I did watch Schindler's list. No, I don't hate jewish people. Yes, I'll aggresively condemn Israel's actions and anyone blind enough to say that one genocide justifies another, and I will always support palestinian people. And if you happen to be a jewish person that has somehow found themselves in the center of a conversation that isn't even about you, and getting negative attention you don't deserve, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that no matter what you do or where you live, you keep being used as a scapegoat and your life and history exploited for colonialist propaganda, your heritage is worth more than that.

So keep calling yourselves the good guys, keep pulling the anti-semite card or the "Palestine is homophobic" argument. Keep playing your white politics in your white country that you stole from non-white people. The rest of the world is watching you and history will remember you as what you are and always have been; fucking colonizers.

#palestine #free palestine #israel #anti-zionism #white politics #colonialism #social justice #free gaza

[sunny1616]

Pressure

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: During the weigh-in conference rafe's opponent, jj maybank, makes a comment that get rafe riled up.

Warnings: some fighting, cussing, mentions of pregnancy

"Standing at 6'2" and 180lbs, Rrrrrafe CamerON!!" You are seated against the wall of the press area with Rafe's team clapping as you watch your boyfriend being weighed in. You usually don't come to the weigh-ins or other press conferences, knowing how tense they can be. And you would've skipped it since you were 7 months pregnant, but you wanted to be supportive of your partner. After all, this was no regular fight because you were in South Carolina for the biggest event of Rafe's boxing career so far against the infamous JJ Maybank. JJ is no joke, with 19 wins, 0 losses, and 6KOs.

The coverage and attention that this fight is getting isn't something that you're used to seeing and it sometimes makes you nervous. Regardless, you decided to be brave and support your man since it's his first time with so many eyes on him. Though he hasn't admitted it to you yet, you can tell that the pressure is weighing on him. You are concerned but not worried, Rafe is tough because of the pain hes been through in his past with his family. He's the strongest and most resilient man you've ever known.

After Rafe's time on the machine, JJ stepped up and flexed. The MC announced his measurements, and the cameras went off. The conference went on as expected, with small insults and verbal jabs thrown between Rafe and JJ. Nothing serious. But then, just as face-off photo op was about to complete, JJ says something to Rafe that makes him rage and right-hook JJs jaw. The stage turns into a moshpit, and cameras go wild. Rafe's bodyguards try to remove him from the stage, but all Rafe wants to do is get to JJ .

Meanwhile, you stand eyes wide and hands protectively on your bump. Rafe's assistant and one of his bodyguards inch closer to you while watching the scene unfold. Eventually, Rafe is taken off the stage, and the announcer tells the crowd the date of the fight, concluding the event. You are then escorted to Rafe's room. Once inside, you take a look around, trying to spot him amongst all the bodyguards and other team members. You then spot him in the corner, sitting on a cubby bench, talking to his manager and trainer. Both trying to calm him down, which marginally seems to be working because though he is seated with elblows on his knees and listening attentively to the two men, he still has a terrifying amount of fire in his eyes.

As you walk up to him he immediately makes eye contact with you. He then looks to the two people talking to him and signals them to give you two some space. While hes still sitting he pulls you and hugs you around the hips. You immediately bring you arms around his shoulder and scratch the back of his head while giving the top of his head a kiss. After some deep breaths he looks up at you and you down at him.

"Lets go back to the hotel. We dont need to be here for another second."

"Okay, but are you alright? What happened up there?"

Rafe exhales, "i dont want to talk about that right now. That mother fucker should sooner be 8 feet under then in our thoughts." Okayyy so not the time to talk about it then, you say to yourself.

"Alright lets go." You both get into a black escalade and drive 20mins to your hotel. Once alone in your room you take a shower while Rafe orders food and makes some calls. Rafe then goes to shower and u lay on the bed with your robe on too exhausted and filled with thoughts about the event. Just as your deep in thought rafe comes out with his robe on and stares at you.

"Can we talk now?" You say.

Rafe looks at you and sighs and lays down on the bed. He turns to face you and says, "He threatened to take you from me. He said that it wouldn't be hard and that the baby wouldn't want a loser of a father anyway after the fight."

You blank.

"Rafe, that isn't true. You know it isn't. The loser part or it being that easy for me to leave you. This probably isn't the right thing to say, but im surprised that got to you. Tell me why it did."

Another breath, "No opponent has ever said anything about you before. That's always been my boundary. I've also never had to worry about it because all my previous opponents were professional, never made it personal. Ever. And I've been so... mentally off for this whole thing because i was partly raised here. My mom left me when i was here. And with the swarming media and dwindling privacy lately and the underdog card, i just feel so... off. There's so much pressure with this one. And i dont want to lose for the team, and especially for you and our girl."

"I love you, rafe, and no matter the outcome, that will never change. Im not going anywhere, and she won't either. She will be proud and in awe of how strong and amazing you are, just as i always am. And as for the past, that's all it is. It's over. You moved on. Nothing can hurt you here. We and the team support you bc this is your fight. We're here to support you bc we all know that you are better than him. You can prove it to yourself, too, by fighting. For. Yourself." With a soft smile, you reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone.

Rafe just stares at you in awe. He savors moments like this. He's never felt so lucky. He can never get enough, so he closes the small distance between and meets your lips with his. The kiss emulates love and gratitude. He then pulls you in closer. "I love you, baby. Thank you."

You chuckle and shake your head, "i love you too, bubs. Now come on, the new love is blind episodes come out today we have to see whos gonna get ditched and hitched!" You then kiss his nose and sit up to find the remote. And in lighter air you both happily watch cheesy tv.

Authors note: okayy so this is my first post. Please go easy on me 😅💗

*edited some of it*

#boxer!rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #pregnant reader

[mylovejimimi]

The Kims, your breeding problem | SJ & NJ TWO SHOT PT. 1

— PAIRING: mafiaboss!seokjin x mafiaboss!namjoon x mafiaprincess!reader — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: dirty smut (hell yeah), vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk ofc, fingering, ass action, anal penetration, double penetration, lots of degradation, some slaps, a bit of pain kink, breeding kink as per request <3, some plot that will be explained in part 2 (stay tuned), seokjin is MEAN — SUMMARY: Desperate to save your empire and your name, you walk into the lion's den with a plan. Turns out those two lions had a plan of their own, and now you're the piece of meat they had been so starved for. — WORDS: almost 9k SORRY DEAL W/ IT Ok babygirls i apologize for this eternal wait, it took me a month to finish bc i like to carefully plan my craft to not fall into boring stuff or repetitiveness. I hope it is worth the wait and you all like it <3 ALSO! part 2 will be up maybe tomorrow bc i wrote everything and it was way too long and u know, i wasn't gonna post a 20k words shot lmao Anyways pslease remember you can send me a tip by buying me a ko-fi if you like my works, it will meant the world to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ And as always, i look forward your thoughts on this. Enjoy !

Being the princess of an empire wasn’t as easy as you once thought – but you had triple the fun you expected.

The businesses of this lawless side of the world weren’t just for anybody, that’s why only a couple families survived and thrived despite of time and mass murders. In those select families, in which the highest honor was to have no fear of law or men, one must just grow up strong and shameless to fit in them; if not, it was better to step down (which, more often than not, meant dying). And you must, at all coast, beat anybody else with your intelligence and cleverness, or else you were relegated as a mere pawn. Even worse if you were a woman.

One of the top families in the businesses was yours, which couldn’t make you prouder – because you were the one behind their success.

For the world, you weren’t particularly different from the average woman, but you had many hidden qualities that set you apart: you had money and influence, charm and wit, though most important than anything, you had dauntless drive. Enough drive to make you break rules, promote corruption, break as many families as you had to, terrorize all other elite families into submission. You had the world in your hand and you were ready to eat it.

And because you knew you were danger, you recognized which other menaces out there were as deadly as you.

“I don’t give a shit whatever you plan” your older brother spat in your face, throwing at you the documents that you compiled so carefully, all of them full of valuable information about your biggest enemy in the business. You gritted your teeth; you went to the deepest of holes to get all that data, you bought many men for it – with money and anything you could give.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I was just informing you before you get your stupid ass in my business and fuck it up.” The relationship with your brother has never been the greatest. Being raised to be ruthless, it only worsened when your parents got old and sick, because it meant that you were now competitors for the throne. You despised him mostly because he was a useless piece of shit that only leeched off of your hard work.

“I’ll fuck it up? You would get all of us fucked in the ass and then decapitated in a public park. Those fuckers are at the top of the food chain for a reason, shithead.” You reacted violently at the cowardice of your brother, hitting his desk with your fist.

“And they are burying our business! They’re already fucking us and massacring us! They stole all our dealers and our spots on the west and south; they killed all our links in the government; they even opened their disgusting brothels next to all of our strip clubs. And you will do nothing about it?!” Your brother rolled his eyes at your outburst.

“It’s not big deal. You will think of something else to avenge us.” And he turned around on his spinning chair, ending the conversation. You were fuming, to say the least.

“FUCK YOU!” you yelled before taking the lamp on his desk and throwing it towards the nearest wall. Then, stomping out, you decided to proceed as you wanted.

…

Your shiny dress moved with the wind and blinded the security guards as you stepped out of the car that drove you. Currently, you were in the Kim mansion, the territory of your enemies, infiltrating in the intimate party they were throwing for one of their birthdays. You thanked in your head the trusted friend that popped up out of nowhere when you needed them the most, offering you a way to take down the Kims. It was all you needed, the way in, you would take care of the rest.

After the long walk from the exuberant entrance to the more exuberant halls, you finally were in the big ballroom that hosted the most people. You noticed there weren’t that many; a couple you recognized from negotiations and such, and nodded your head in acknowledgment to them, but there were many new faces for you. And that worried you, because you didn’t know which ones were the Kims. Maybe it was a little careless to go there with just a description of their appearances instead of researching more for pictures (which was really difficult since the most powerful people in the business, including yourself, didn’t show their faces ever).

Taking a random glass from the service station and bar, you scanned the room and downed the strong drink in one go, thinking what to do next. But then, your luck struck again:

“Mister Kim, congratulations for your birthday.” You spun your head almost instantly to look behind you, to the supposed mister Kim. He was right behind you in the bar but giving you his large back dressed in black. And, damn, what a back. Peering down, you also checked his ass and legs, draped in black too. And daaaamn. How could all his behind look so hot? Was it the height? Were his proportions just mathematically perfect? You hoped he was as nice in the front because it would be really disappointing otherwise.

Right at that moment, Mr. Kim turned around to look at someone that called him in the distance, and you saw him clearly, but most importantly, he saw you. His dragon eyes fixated on yours intensely, pinning you in your place, for what you felt was an eternity. You recognized his fiery stare. He was deadly.

“I don’t think I know you, dear” he started in his deep voice, flashing you a smirk. You looked at him from behind your lashes, batting them coquettishly.

“Would you be interested in knowing me, sir?” Despite your strategic flirting, you were eclipsed by him. He was tall, graceful and so, so handsome. He looked like he could be on the cover of any magazine; be the face of every luxurious brand. And as far as you knew, he was single. Manly and powerful – your kind of man. If he wasn’t your literal nemesis, you would have tried to seduce him for real.

“A sweet thing like you? Very much.” Knowing as much as you knew, it ringed an alarm that he was that easy to approach, to fool. It was weird. You decided to be careful. “Tell me, beautiful,” he said, stepping closer to you and smiling darkly. “do you know who I am?”

“I do. And I find you a fascinating man, sir.”

“Do you now?” You nodded shortly, feigning shyness and sipping on your drink to avoid his sharp eyes. You realized quickly that he was a very calculating, very analytic man; he was observing you meticulously, and you felt like a rare specimen being studied when he dragged his attention all over your body and every inch of your face.

Though, you weren’t dumb. You knew how to pose, how to talk and how to dress to captivate a man; you did it a million times already, and you had big plans for this man and his brother in particular. His lingering on your almost naked legs; how he tilted his body more and more close to you; his constant smirk – everything told you that he was interested in whatever you had to offer. Still, the deal was yet to be seal.

“You are very well-known for doing what you want and getting what you want. You’re like a god, I heard.” You batted your lashes, also inching close to his standing body. “I like powerful men – and they usually like me back.” And you looked away, like ashamed of sharing that.

“So you like danger” he stated, while moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. His hand went down your neck slowly, caressing with the tip of his cold fingers your skin.

I am danger, you thought while smiling cutely for him.

“I find it kinda romantic to give yourself completely to a forbidden man.” You bit your lip lightly, mirroring his action when you grazed your fingers on the hand he rested on the counter.

He stared at you for a long moment, in absolute silence. It was difficult to read him with his impassive face and controlled attitude. Just in case, you passed a hand through your hair, the decided signal for your guards to be alert. By the corner of your eye, you saw one of them signing back discreetly. If needed, they would fire all guns to take you out of there.

“Would you like to watch the big man at work, sweetheart?” Mr. Kim suddenly said. You looked at him with big, naïve eyes, nodding.

“Really? I would love to, sir.” He offered his big hand, which you took eagerly. Once more, you carded your hand through your hair.

His slender fingers enclosed your hand firmly, guiding you from the bar across the groups of finely-dressed people in the open ballroom to long, dimmed hallways. You knew you were venturing into the lion’s den but what else could you do? You needed both of the Kims alone, and getting one of them at the time was easier. You would seduce one and get him, and later you would find and do the same with his brother – if they didn’t cooperate with you, of course.

“You know, sweet thing, we get lots of women at our feet daily. Some are useful, some are just a hindrance” Mr. Kim casually told you. You were getting to the end of a particularly secluded hallway; the end of your walk, it seemed. You decided it was safer to keep up with the façade until the very end. “Which one would you be?” Stopping at a large, wooden door, he looked at you expectantly. You found his eyes, and even in the dimmed light you saw something shine in his pupils.

Just now you realized the energy that swam between you.

His strong hand squeezed yours and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You bit your lip. Kim Namjoon (you guessed it was the younger Kim based on the descriptions you were given) was the hottest man you ever saw: his secure posture, his devilish expressions, even his work ethics were attracting. You would never admit it out loud, but you were really impressed by how the Kims ran their business. In no time, they build up an empire equal to yours, which had years and years of existence, and took over almost all of the city. It was really hot to you how they were fierce, and ruthless, and did whatever they wanted without a care for consequences.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, sir” you replied in a low tone. His obscure smile showed up again.

“Mhm, I think we would get along really well, dear.” The door in front of you opened, and a spacious and well-illuminated office appeared. It was modern and austere, with scarce black furniture a desk that had not a single trace of clutter as you would see, for example, in your own. “Hyung, I just received the biggest gift for my birthday.”

The chair at the desk spun around to reveal the most stunning man you have ever seen. Kim Seokjin had his hair perfectly brushed back to show the most well-proportionated face you’ve seen so far: plum, kissable lips; round, conceited eyes; an instant derogatory grimace when he saw you. His haughtiness was nothing; what worried you the most was that now you would have to deal with the two Kims together.

 “Really? That’s the big gift? A cheap whore?” You had to bite your tongue. You may be a whore from time to time, no shame in it; but cheap? CHEAP? When you had your own queendom and where the owner of half the city? When powerful men had died just for touching your hand without permission? He definitely didn’t know who he was talking about.

“No, hyung, no.” Namjoon chuckled. Getting bolder, he circled your waist with an arm and took your jaw to emphasize his next words “I got us a toy to spend the night, and if it is good, maybe we could consider giving it more use.” Seokjin just arched an eyebrow to you.

“I admire both of you, sir, that’s why I want to serve you” you expressed, lowering your eyes to the floor in a submissive manner.

“Serve us? Are you a fucking slave or something, stupid bitch?” The older Kim didn’t need to yell to be aggressive and threatening like a rabid dog – his words, neutral tone, and overall mean energy was enough to aggravate you. It took everything in you to stop yourself from setting your jaw.

“Do you want me to be one?” It came out harsher than you intended, and yet, you felt a slight shift in the air.

“You couldn’t handle being my slave, dear” Seokjin said as a matter of fact. “I’ll make you and your slut holes unusable after a day.”

“How are you so sure of that?” you counterattacked calmly.

“It would only hurt you, sweetheart, really” Namjoon joined in with a teasing tilt in his sensual low register and a mild push of his hips into your ass. Well, at least you could be sure one of them was interested in you, judging by the hard member that poked your behind.

“Do you really think I’m a virgin in any way?” Something burned in Seokjin’s eyes. Bingo. “Would I be offering myself to you if I were?”

“Your performance as a poor, submissive girl was shit, but I was hoping you dropped the act sooner than later.” The man at the desk smirked. You thought that maybe he wasn’t the brightest of the two.

By his hold on your waist, Namjoon walked you around the desk until you were in front of his brother, who turned in his chair and was watching you expectant, with his legs spread apart and hands clasped together. “Why don’t you show who you really are then, angel?” As he said that, he pushed you to the floor until you were kneeling between Seokjin’s long legs, inches aways from his crotch. Honestly, what was about to happen kinda excited you.

You had understood right away that they were the typical hyper-masculine control freaks. As most men you had met in the business, you assumed they would feel challenged as soon as you showed a little bit of character. What dominant, powerful man didn’t enjoy taming a brat from time to time? And thus, you would put up a little fight, just for funsies.

“Would you be able to handle me, sir?”

“I’ll fuck you up so bad, don’t mess with me this early.” You scoffed at the warning.

“But I said nothing yet, sir. Mr. Kim,” you called the other Kim, turning your head to look at him. “can I ask you, then? Like, does your brother have any idea of anything? It feels to me he is capable of words and nothing else.” Namjoon snorted.

“You’ll fucking see what I’m capable of” The elder grunted and proceeded to stick your face on his groin. “But your nasty mouth won’t be on my cock.”

Unceremoniously, you opened your mouth and closed it on the shape his member made in his pants. The cloth was very thin and he had no underwear beneath it; you could feel almost every detail of him, including his faint throbbing and the very massive girth. You let yourself indulge in it a bit – Kim Seokjin was too damn hot after all. You sucked enthusiastically on his shape, lapping obscenely with tongue and all for the greedy eyes of your spectators. After a couple minutes, you realized that Seokjin´s cock pulsed more when you looked up at him, so you fixated on him while suctioning on the place his tip was.

“Hyung, look, she’s rubbing her legs together like a desperate slut. Is your hungry cunt too empty, sweetheart?” Namjoon said from above you but you had no time to even form a thought before you felt a cold object between your legs, pressing on the apex of your legs. “Get off on my shoe, baby, let’s see if you aren’t just talk.” And he pressed even harder on your pussy. You let go of Seokjin’s hard member with a high-pitched moan when the shoe’s tip hit directly on your clit, and Namjoon, as evil as his brother, touched that spot over and over again. But the oldest Kim couldn’t let you slack off on your duty; no, he had to push you onto his cock once more, shaking your head until you got back to gobbling him sloppily.

“Fucking filthy whore, look at the fucking mess you made” Seokjin grumbled, and you confirmed he was right with a quick peek. The dark and expensive fabric was even darker all over the lap, and the man’s penis would stand all the way up proud and hard if not for the restrictions of the pants. You patted yourself in the back for your great work, before getting down to devour him some more – though, you didn’t because he continued: “Aw, look at you so eager to spread your legs for the enemy to save the family business. Daddy must be really proud of you.” You froze. Stopping all motion midair, you stared at him. Kim Seokjin smiled joyfully while he caressed your hair.

“Did you really think we didn’t know you were coming? How, if we were the ones that invited you over.” Them? Your blood boiled once more at realizing you were betrayed by one of your closest, most beloved friends.

From behind, Namjoon took a hold of you by the hair roughly, yanking you back painfully until you were looking directly at him. You yelped and grunted loudly at that. And then, the door busted open and one of your guards entered pointing his gun at Namjoon; but the criminal wasted not a second in pulling out his own gun and firing it at the intruder.

“Shit!” you exclaimed as you saw the body fall down with a thud and Namjoon took hold of your arms, gripping them behind your back to immobilize you. If only one of your men got there, it must mean the others were already dead.  “You fuckers, let me go!” you yelled at the men holding you. Struggling to get free from their tight grasp, you could only lift your knee with force, colliding into Seokjin’s crotch.

“Fucking bitch!” Despite his brother folding into himself and holding his crotch, Namjoon cackled. You felt a little proud for causing him pain.

“I see you’re not as average as I thought” the younger mused near your ear. You turned as much as you could to look at him and spit at his face. He was shocked but still grinned.

“There’s no bitch like me, you better learn it now.” Namjoon’s hold on you tightened as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, catching a single drop of your spit that rolled to his mouth.

“No bitch like me my balls” you heard Seokjin grunt, but when you turned to look at him, he took you by the hair like his brother did previously. You catched just a glimpse of him putting a liquid onto a rag but you knew right away what it was, and so you started to insult them louder, fighting them violently. “Oh, shut up already, stupid whore.” And when the rag was over your mouth and nose, it only took seconds for everything to turn black.

…

Consciousness came back to your body in what felt to you like an instant. You groaned, opening your eyes slowly. Why did your body feel so heavy? You could barely move to get on your side, feeling your wrists tied together but lying on a comfortable bed. And why were you in your underwear? Though, that was the least of your problems.

Looking around, you found yourself in a luxurious bedroom. You grimaced at its ‘single man’ decoration though, disgusted with the lack of good taste. Was it the room of one of the Kims? It looked like an isolation room in a psychiatric ward. Well, you thought, they’re fucking insane so it checks out.

“I have to get out” you murmured to yourself, but you couldn’t even try to sit up without feeling too lightheaded. Groaning, you left yourself lie on the soft surface momentarily. You would see how to escape on the go.

“Look who just woke up.” You grumbled when the voice of Kim Seokjin entered the room. You moved slightly to look at the door, watching your two enemies getting in and nearing the bed. Seokjin smiled to you. “It’s our favorite girl.” When he brought his hand down to stroke your cheek, you tried to bit him, missing him for an inch. “Wah, you’re a feral one, aren’t you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare, asshole.” Both men chuckled mockingly. Namjoon stepped forward and took a sit on the bed beside your body.

“Maybe you were, before intruding in our home and getting tied up by us. But you seriously thought you could just walk in and shoot us up?” You held his stare without an ounce of shame because they hadn’t realized yet that wasn’t your real plan. You played along. Men in power were that easy to trick, you only needed to show a little bit of skin and act a little clueless and their ego would get in their way to make them think you’re so stupid and they’re so in control. Truth be told, you were pretty desperate to end them, but you not only had beauty – most of all, you had brains.

“Whatever, just kill me now so the fuckface of my brother drowns in his own shit.” You resigned to your possible fate with a roll of your eyes. Namjoon smiled at you for the nth time.

“No, baby, that would just be the easy way out for you. You’d been in this line of work since birth; you know we can’t just let you go without a lesson.” Your breath hitched a little when the man posed a cold hand on your hip, fondling the zone. Got you.

At this point in your hectic life, you were not afraid of whatever these guys might do to you. If it was something sexual, it would be just a short-cut for the ending you expected. Also, you had sex with all kinds of men and women, who had all kind of kinks and weird shit, so sleeping with the Kims wasn’t big deal – it could even be fun, in your honest opinion. Fun like a smart cat playing two buff, dumb dogs that thought they were in charge. They didn’t know what kind of cat they just caught.

“And so? You want me to cry and beg for forgiveness? Please, sirs, spare me my life! Don’t defile my pristine, virgin pussy!” you exclaimed in a mocking tone, snorting for the absurdity of your own joke. Not even a shadow of a smile graced the Kims’ faces before they pull the serious, mafia-men façade up. They were not happy with your mocking attitude. “Yah, is not that serious, really.” Seokjin got close to the bed to grip your neck menacingly. Like he could scare you.

“It is serious if you come with the intention of murder.” You snorted. So fucking dramatic, and for what?

“It is so obvious that you both are newbies here. We, the real crime-syndicates, just have fun with it.” Seokjin tightened his grip. “Woah, you feel threatened by the tied up, drugged girl, I see.”

“Nah, baby, we just want you to be silent.”

“I swear I’ll stop!” you replied with a short laugh. You could see on their faces that they didn’t find you funny. “Just let me say –”

“Just shut up before we really make you to” Namjoon warned with a pointed look. The frustration became evident on them; they clearly wanted you to submit, scared of them taking advantage of you. They were too used to frightening people into submission. What pair of fools.

“Oh? Why don’t you try?” you dared, batting your eyelashes at both men. Seokjin scoffed before taking you by the hair (again) to lift you until you were sat on the bed, and he got nose to nose with you. You complained for the harshness of his action, but loved it nonetheless.

“Remember you asked for it, sweetheart” Seokjin said lowly, almost in a grunt, before crashing his mouth on yours so hard that both your teeth clashed and clicked. He kissed you with vigor and violence, making it really difficult to keep up with his rhythm. Your lips ached already from the way he suctioned them. The only thing you could do was to whimper.

It was even hard to breath properly in that heated make out, so you felt more and more lightheaded than when you were drugged. His tongue wasted no time entering and reclaiming the whole inside of your mouth, and you could feel his warm spit getting into your cavity but also dripping from your lips the sloppier he became. It was safe to say that you were elated with the ferocity of the older Kim and proof of it was the wetness that you felt leaking from your see-through underwear to your inner thighs. Suddenly, the man separated from you with a wet sound, and you instinctively took a big breath quick enough before Seokjin moved you by the hair to collide with Namjoon’s mouth this time.

If Seokjin was dizzying, Namjoon was electrifying. He wasn’t as pressing but his hands seized your hips roughly and his tongue wasn’t letting go of yours; he even bit your lower lip here and there. At some point, his lips took a hold of your tongue and he sucked it viciously, while his brother pushed your head against the assaulting mouth insistently.  

“Open up, honey” Seokjin grunted in your ear, and you didn’t know what he was talking about until you felt a big, cold hand on your inner thigh, a hair away from your pussy. He dabbed the skin there, no doubt entertained with all the wetness that seeped from your panties, but the demon that he was could not give you the satisfaction of touching your cunt properly.

With a man devouring your mouth and the other holding you still and rubbing nimbly your folds and flesh, you did start feeling overwhelmed – the kind of overwhelmed where you need more direct stimulation, though. So you whined loud. Namjoon released you.

“Want more, baby?” No words were left in your mind, so you nodded. The younger Kim, with wild fire lightning up his hooded eyes, smiled big in a shark-like smile – deadly, deadly, deadly. “Hyung” His brother looked up at him, and both shared a knowing look, like they already had planned the next step. Maybe they did.

But you had no time to think about anything. Each of them took one of your knees and shoved you back until you were lying on top of your tied hands; then, they parted and lifted your naked legs as much as your damned good elasticity allowed, ending up folded in half. And, somehow, they made themselves fit in that space side by side, as large as both were.

Next thing you knew, someone’s teeth were pulling your flimsy underwear down, grazing lightly your folds. You cursed, throwing your head back and thinking how the hell did you ended up in the best-case scenario possible. Taking you underwear out of your body in a flash, the Kim brothers seemed very eager to please you – or to torture you in their own way. Whatever they planned, you had no other choice but to take it.

Soon enough, a rough tongue parted your folds rudely and licked your juices away with the urgency of someone that doesn’t want a single drop wasted. Then, another tongue appeared, but this one went straight to your clit to punish you in the most delicious way possible: whoever it was, started by sucking it fervently, petting it with his tongue at the same time until he touched a nerve that made you scream, and jabbed at it repeatedly. They didn’t spare a single gaze in your direction, and, with the way you were losing your mind piece by piece, it was difficult to focus and distinguish who was who when both their heads were down – but whoever was lapping at your labia, now circled your wet hole with his whole tongue just the way you liked, both to tease and lubricate you.

Though their attention was getting overwhelming, it was also nice, because you had been shared by several men in various occasions in the past but none of them ever used you like this. No, they only cared to get their dicks in whatever part of your body they could and get off in there – and, really, you never minded since you weren’t expecting (nor didn’t want) a romantic lovemaking night where you ended up satisfied and chirping. Business was business. The Kims, however…

“You were so smart a minute ago, now can’t even form a single word?” It was Seokjin taunting you, lifting his head from your mount and you realized he was the one assaulting your poor clit. Of course it was him.

“You fucking idiot,” you started in a breathy voice, trying with all your might to fixate on him and not get distracted by Namjoon penetrating you with his tongue. “you don’t need my instructions, you’re eating my cunt like you’re my good bitch on your own.” At that, he pressed his thumb on your sensitive button roughly, and moved it in circles keeping the same pressure. “Fuck!” you exclaimed out of surprise.

“Goddamn, do I have to force something down your throat, stupid slut?” And then, he did force his index and middle finger into your mouth, pressing on your tongue to slide down your throat. The older Kim was extremely short-tempered, you concluded – it explained why people kept talking about the violent Kim brother whenever a massacre was done out of seemingly nowhere.

You have heard millions of stories of them, one worse than the other, but you were too prideful to believe even an ounce of whatever dumb shit they supposedly did. Burning down a whole building? Yeah, right. Bombing an enemy’s car? Suuure. Kidnapping a whole family because the father dared to go and try to take advantage of them? Well, maybe that had some truth, given your actual position. No doubt, all of those things – if true – were Seokjin’s idea.

Speaking of the devil, he almost hits the back of your throat with the tip of his longer digit, forcing the ugly and loud sounds of gargling out of you. The choking itself wasn’t so bad, but his insistence of keep pushing and pushing was making your jaw hurt a little. Drool was all over your lower face and his fingers, sliding down from between them and dripping into his palm. Through your teary vision, you catch a glimpse of Seokjin’s sadistic smile, so pleased with your degradation. You made sounds of complaint between gargles.

“See why you have to watch your tone with me, dumb cumdump? And quit pushing your luck because we will fuck your whore cunt into submission.” Right at that moment, you felt a hand parting your asscheeks and something wet circling your wrinkled hole. A surprised whimper escaped you. With a short chuckle, Seokjin took hold of your face with his free hand. “Right, and we will fuck your ass too, sweetpie.” His fingers left your mouth suddenly, and you took a big gasp of air, not knowing what else to expect from the brothers.

You didn’t have too much time to wonder because a finger surprised you bottoming out in your back entrance. No easing into it, no finesse, just plain, old Seokjin penetrating your ass with his long finger as a punishment of some sort. But was it really punishment if you were enjoying it? It was not, but Seokjin didn’t need to know that.

You could feel every knuckle, every ridge of his digit grazing your tender insides; stretching you, sliding in and out with the help of your saliva on his index. You whined out loud shamelessly at the sensations, which only spurred the men to go faster. You saw it in his eyes: he was merciless.

“You like it, sweetheart? You like when we’re rough to you?” This time, Namjoon got up on his knees to speak to you, in his low, raspy register. You moaned and clenched on Seokjin really hard when his eyes fixated intently on yours. Like bewitched by his dominant aura, you nodded to him dumbly. “Oh yeah? Should we take it up a notch?” His brother got out of his way so he could descend on you and capture your mouth in another ardent kiss. His whole frame pinned you down, coercing you to accept whatever nibs and licks he was giving into your cavity – not that you weren’t willing to accept them in the first place, though.

Distracted enough by his searing kiss, he seized his chance to push down your bra and take hold of your left breast; most precisely, to take hold of your nipple between his index finger and thumb, and squeeze it. He swallowed every noise or gasp you made while squeezing and rolling your nipple until it hardened. Meanwhile, his older brother had made way for a second finger in your ass and was scissoring them to open you up more and more. All of this was way more than you expected, but in a good way.

“Please,” you gasped when Namjoon went to suck your lower lip. “untie me, please” you begged in a whine. If there was just one thing you would beg for tonight, it was for them to let your arms go, because having your own weight on them plus Namjoon’s was cutting your circulation fast. Both men stared at you pointedly. “I swear I’ll not try anything funny, I just can’t feel them anymore.”

None of them believe you; however, Namjoon gets off of you and turn your whole body over with a single move of his hand, getting off the bed too. Seokjin is quick to get you on your knees and get his fingers back into you, now adding a third. You face to the side to the night table just in time to see the younger man opening the drawer and getting out a small knife. Your heart accelerated at the prospect of real harm but you didn’t show it. It would only put you in disadvantage in front of the men.

Luckily for you, Namjoon only used the knife to cut the ropes that bound your wrists. You let them fall to your sides with a satisfied moan at being liberated, despite not being capable of moving them yet.

“Does the princess have any other request?” The younger Kim, who was the one that tied you in the first place, inquired sarcastically with a tilt of his head, toying with the tip of the weapon. Closing your eyes and exhaling heavily at one deeper thrust of Seokjin’s fingers, you nodded.

“Can you fuck me already? The fingering is getting boring” you taunted in a thread of voice, weakened at the feeling of Seokjin’s dry digits grazing harshly your insides. The aching in your fingered asshole only added to your over-stimulated body – and to add to it, you felt a sting on your right ass-cheek that spread all over your skin. It barely even hurt on your long-stimulated body; instead, it felt like electricity hitting right on your sensitive clit. Seokjin’s hand was big and heavy, and he slapped you one more time on the same place. You moaned when it echoed between your legs.

“Boring? I was being nice.” And he slapped now on your other cheek. You yelped. “I was being a gentleman and stretching you.” He hit you a couple more time on the tender and red flesh; you kept your eyes close since the first impact and whimpered but still took it like a good girl. While all of that was going on behind you, something sticky and wet rubbed on your upper lip. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Namjoon’s monstruous cock pocking the corner of your mouth. You opened it to let him in, but he was content with painting your face with his precum. “But ungrateful whores like you don’t deserve niceness” Seokjin spat – figuratively and literally. You felt his spittle drip down the crack of your ass, and then, a hard rod impaling you.

You screamed out of surprise and the pain of being overstretched; the man’s fingers, as many as they were, did not compare in the slightest to his penis. The thick and curved meat hammered into you as soon as it entered, leaving you breathless with the vigor of the movement. Seokjin’s drove his hips into you with guttural groans and wild abandon, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. Honestly, you felt a little in love with the way he was rearranging your guts – and more so when you felt the tips of his fingers wandering on your clit.

“Ah, so now you finally have nothing to say?"

You were just about to give Seokjin an out of breath but clever retort, when Namjoon took advantage of your wide-open mouth and eased his own dick into it. Gentler than his older brother, he just glided his member in and out, more so to wet it with your saliva than to pleasure himself. Despite being a heartless hit man with no morals, he saw the overwhelming pounding Seokjin subjected you to and felt a little compassion for your clearly tired self.

Taking his cock out of your mouth, he started to fuck his own hand. You stared at him in confusion – didn’t he want to use you like his brother? – but you understood what he really wanted when he got his crotch closer to your face, still jacking himself off. Keeping your mouth open, you received one of Namjoon’s balls inside, slurping it right away. You licked and sucked on it hard, until you could hear him groan louder than the slapping of Seokjin’s hips into your ass. Letting saliva pool in your cavity, you soaked his nut thoroughly before passing to the other, and lave on it. Looking up pass the standing penis invading your vision, your eyes found Namjoon’s heated ones; you just now looked at him but his piercing dragon eyes hadn’t left your face not even for a second.

You intuited there was something behind his intense staring, but Seokjin’s hand snaked, once more, to your scalp and grasped, hair tightly in a fist and pulled back.

“You’re slacking. Weren’t you supposed to lure us to ruin with a good fuck?”

Namjoon seated with his back on the headrest and his legs on each side of where you and his brother were on your knees. Seokjin, with the zero consideration he had with you, threw you sideways onto his brother and you realized he wanted you to face him now. You smirked and gulped enough air to push his buttons again.

“You’re the one doing all the work. Can’t you not even satisfy yourself? Maybe the problem isn’t me but that teeny weeny peanut dick.” You saw a frown appear on Seokjin’s handsome face and, next thing you knew, his hand was coming down to slap you on the cheek. Just like the slaps in your ass, this one stung but send waves of electricity all over your skin. You groaned and put your still weak hand on your cheek to sooth the dull pain. “You’re too easy to work up, dude. Insecure much?” you sneered.

The man’s response was to take hold of your legs and open them to fit himself. He moved close enough to your body that you felt every inch of his manhood when he grinded it roughly in between your folds, which, at this point, were drenched and dripping, and that only made the glide very slippery. You moaned when his tip aimed to your nub, hitting the bundle of nerves repeatedly. He just grunted.

Behind you, Namjoon got his hands on your breasts, massaging them almost tenderly, while his hips thrusted up a little until his member lodged between your asscheeks. You didn’t expect his lips roaming on your neck, and much less for him to leave open-mouthed kisses and a trail of saliva there where his tongue licked; you were too distracted squealing as Seokjin gripped your waist and rammed his cock into your pussy in one go. By now, after everything you went through, nothing too soft or vanilla would satisfy you enough; the spark of excitement was always missing when men fucked you slowly and carefully. You were a woman of action, of adrenaline – so you liked how he was rough and wild.

“Are you liking how Seokjin fucks your pussy, baby?” Namjoon murmured right in your ear before taking your earlobe between his lips and sucking it. He was the real menace. “You want him to fill you up? Because, I’ll tell you a secret,” If it wasn’t for his closeness – his mouth glued to your ear – you wouldn’t be capable of hearing him due to the smacking of skin with skin and the blood that was rushing in your ears. “That’s all he thought about since he found you.” Through half lidded eyes, you looked up at the older man while Namjoon kept talking. “Fill you until you were gushing with his cum. Mark you as his bitch, he said.” He cupped your breasts and played with both your nipples, but you couldn’t even close your eyes at the feeling because you couldn’t miss even a second of the sight Seokjin was.

You didn’t really like him like that, but it was undeniable that he was one of the most beautiful men you have seen – now more than ever. His face was flushed and glowing, with a drop of sweat down his side; his full and bitten-red lips a little open in a panting; his cold stare down to you, judging you, hating you, and yet, fucking you franticly… And you haven’t even started on his god-like body. If you had to be attracted to someone, it would be someone like him: heartless, vain, profane. Someone not afraid of wanting, not afraid of taking.

“And, you know? Good bitches have to be bred.” Out of a sudden, Namjoon had his fingers shamelessly torturing your clitoris. You squeeze Seokjin’s member and moaned in a high-pitch, feeling your insides tightening fast. “That’s why we brought you, to stuff you with cum until our bitch is well bred– fucked until you beg to be filled over and over again.” Your breath shook as a result of his words, and your core was clenching until the point of no return. Just then, the older Kim reangled himself and penetrated you deeper, nudging all your hot insides with the tip of his long cock. “Would you like that, sweetheart? For us to put a baby into you? To fuck you until you´re round and can do nothing but take our cocks in all your holes all day?” The speed of his digits on you increased, rubbing past the hood that covered you most sensitive part. You cried when he started touching directly on the nervous nub. “Come on, baby, I know you want it. Beg for it.”

“Ye-yes” you exhaled, overwhelmed with sensations. You were so close that anything you heard sounded hot and cum-inducing. Being reduced to a bearing slave and a hole to warm their cocks? Hell yeah. “I wa-want you to – want you to b-breed me. Please!” With a sharp movement of his index finger, Namjoon made your tense core snap. You cried louder when your climax hit you all at once; your cunt tensed and gripped Seokjin like a vice, while all blood flushed down south of your body and electricity ran all on your clit, folds and thighs. For a second, everything was white and muted, and Seokjin’s clash with your body prolonged your climax, sending wave after wave of more electricity. “Please, breed me. I’m your bitch, cum in me, please” you murmured in the middle of ecstasy. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut normally, much less in that mind-altering moment.

Seokjin stopped for a moment, releasing your legs, though you didn’t realize it until you felt his tongue forcing his way into your mouth. You had no energy to kiss him back, but it was not needed; he took your jaw and forced your lips to apart with his. Once again, he licked all inside your cavity, brushing your tongue with his and sucking each of your lips until they were red. You let him do as he pleased, and it even felt quite nice to make out so passionately after cumming so hard.

However, none of the men had cummed yet. Still hazed, you felt strong arms hooking under your knees and lifting you, causing you to circle your arms around a neck to avoid falling. You hugged yourself to Seokjin while he got up from the bed and stood on the floor beside it – cock never leaving your pussy. Focusing again on reality, you felt the heat of Namjoon’s body behind you when his skin sticked to yours. With an extraordinary strength you didn’t know he had, Seokjin moved your body up on his standing dick and down until he bottomed out. From this upright position, gravity naturally made your body go lower and the thick penis go deeper. You whined from overstimulation.

“Shush, whore. Didn’t you wanna be bred? This is how filthy whores have their cunt filled” the older brother grunted. You whined louder like the brattiest of brats just to annoy him. At this point he could only roll his eyes to you. Though your fun didn’t last long – next time Seokjin pulled you down, you found yourself filled to the brim suddenly.

It took a little patience and team work from all parties to make both of them fit into your pussy at the same time. You whimpered for real the whole time, closing your eyes tightly, because you were stretched to the limit, and despite having done this before, it was never with two cocks that large. Between shaky exhales, you felt Namjoon tonguing at the spot under your ear and nibbling his way to the base of your throat.

“Holy shit, it’s better than I thought” Seokjin groaned, half lidded eyes posed on your strained face. “Do you like your cunt stuffed like this, baby?” He saw the intention to clapback when you barely opened your eyes, so he thrusted the tiniest bit up to tear a yelp off of you. He admitted to himself that he kind of admired your tenacity; you came this far and never once had you showed the littlest trace of fear or regret – no, you kept pushing and challenging them even in that moment. It really was admirable how far you would go for your fortune.

Finally, you felt yourself reaching the base of their penises, with much, much effort. You couldn’t think, much less utter a single word from how overwhelmed you felt. All you could do was gasp and gape like a fish, digging your fingers on Seokjin’s shoulder – who was enjoying every second of your helplessness. Having you at his mercy was all he had thought about for years, and all he had needed was patience and time. And there you were.

“You turned out just a meek kitten, baby” Namjoon commented on your left ear, swiveling his hips slowly into you. “I don’t like proving Seokjin right and I told him he was fucking crazy with this stupid plan, but here we are.” Both of them secured their hold on your legs, and just like that started moving taking turns; each time one was out, the other penetrated you with a hard thrust.

“Told you this dumb whore would fall for it” Seokjin grunted, looking down at the place where all three of you connected. “She thinks running a business is fucking people and that’s it. ‘Cause that’s how you made your way to the top, right? There’s no other way for you to get anywhere, as useless as you are.” Seokjin was really, really into degrading you. He spat his words to your face with the utmost disgust, pounding into you harder whenever he said something demeaning. “You’d been a disgusting slut since daddy gave you the wheel, hadn’t you? Letting anybody use your cunt, dripping everywhere you go with any bastard’s cum.”

Now they were really getting into it – and so were you. Heat stirred up in your core again and you found yourself panting and whimpering, needing more. You opened your glazed eyes and focused on Seokjin, expecting he catches up the silent begging. He did, but he would make you suffer before anything.

“It was going to be a surprise, baby, but your beautiful, tortured face is weakening me a little so I’ll tell you.” Still shaking you everywhere with their pounding, the older of the brothers got his mouth on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and he bitted hard enough to hurt. When he heard you scream, he sucked the tender spot and laved his tongue on the dents he left, before getting right by your right ear to talk. “You’ll stay here with us. We will shoot your brother, steal your kingdom and make everything, including you, Kim property.”

Namjoon fucks into you at the last sentence, not waiting for his brother to be fully out. You shout as he fills you suddenly; the pressure of his entire cock inside of you, alongside the half Seokjin didn’t get out, got your whole body quivering. A collective gasp echoed in the room, and after that, the smacking of skin with skin resumed.

“You know what your future here holds, baby? It was true, we will knock you up,” Namjoon’s satin voice paired with his ramming into you every time he said will made goosebumps run up your spine and your insides to tighten. “We will make you bear our children, and we will make you tend to them only for the rest of your life. What about that, baby? The great mafia princess lessened into a breeding machine, good for nothing but popping out our babies.”

After hearing his brother, Seokjin begins fucking into you rougher, more urgent, moving one hand to your throat so you won’t look anywhere but at him as he fucks you. Sweat was making it difficult for you to keep your hold on his strained biceps so, in a particularly hard thrust, you sank your fingers, nails and all, deep onto his skin with a moan. Both brothers bang into you together, cocks heedlessly slamming and dragging over your walls, their pace picking up as they jackhammered into your pussy at the same time, into the same spot. They were rubbing your insides raw; sensitive skin swollen and unbearably tender, way past the point of pain and pushing into pleasure.

“This is your life now, sweetheart” Seokjin panted on your face, now holding you by the jaw. “Get used to being my bitch because I’ve been waiting for too long to fuck” he thrusted up with force. “my seed” His brother caught on his rhythm and now you had to cocks punctuating every word with rough movements. “into you.” With one last pound of the two members, filling ridiculously stretched and overly sensitive inside and out – and with a single stroke of Namjoon’s magic fingers on your clit – you tip over the edge. You scream, your muscles tense everywhere like a rubber band before releasing all at once, and both men keep fucking you despite you blacking out for a moment.

Fucking themselves into you, both brothers knew they wouldn’t last much longer given how you clenched around them, your walls throbbing alongside their cocks. Unable to hold out anymore, Namjoon groans low, hips getting sloppier as he started pumping his come deep into you. It just took Seokjin one more spasm from your cunt to moan loud and long and come beside his brother, white ropes filling you up as both of them continued to fuck every last drop inside. White, liquid cum seeped from your pussy and between their joined members to their thighs. All of your chests heaved in and out to catch your breaths, and just then they realized you let yourself fall onto Seokjin, body liquified and mind still out there.

#bts one shot #bts x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #namjoon #seokjin #bts #mafia #mafia au #female reader #the title is silly but anyways #requested #i tried to be smart and make a word play in the title just humor me im so funny

[lavender-devotion]

Hello! Would you be willing to write a radiapple fic of what might happen the first time Lucifer sees Alastor’s antlers fall off because theyre shedding? I love the idea of them being mid-argument and one of them just pops off all of a sudden

oooooooooh, I've never done a ship fic before, but I LOVE this! I hope my writing lives up to your expectations <3 sorry if this one is shorter than my other fics, I'm not used to writing for ships

Summary: Lucifer expected a lot of things when it came to his arguments with Alastor, but one thing he didn't expect was to be interrupted by Alastor's antlers suddenly shedding...or to end up in his room helping him through the process. Also, what the fuck is this feeling in his chest?

Tags: RadioApple, Lucifer is feeling things and he is Not Happy about it, Enemies to "what the fuck am I feeling," Wound Tending, lots of insults, I know nothing about deer or medical shit (don't crucify me pls), Southern Gothic, Alastor is from the South fuckers and I'll never shut up about it TW: Blood, Gore (slight?) Word Count: 2k Read it on Ao3 <3

Lucifer stared at the ground, the silence around him deafening.

It was an antler.

A fucking antler.

He had to be hallucinating.

He slowly looked up from the spot on the floor, where the...antler had fallen, and up to Alastor---who was now dead silent, and one antler short. Now that they weren't in the middle of the argument, Lucifer found that he couldn't actually remember why they were arguing in the first place, or what they were arguing about. And that...actually kind of pissed him off more.

Alastor was always irritating, always getting on Lucifer's nerves every chance he got, but it seemed that in the last week he'd been even worse than usual---an impressive thing in and of itself, let me tell you. At first he'd thought that Alastor just wanted to see just how far he could push him until he snapped. Now, though, Lucifer was surprised to find...it was actually a lot more innocent than that---if "innocent" was the right word for it.

His antlers were shedding, and---now that Lucifer knew what he was looking for---was clearly in pain, even though he was pretty good at disguising it as anger.

Lucifer considered his options for a moment before finally sighing and kneeling down to pick up the fallen antler, "come on, let's get that taken care of before it gets any worse."

Before Alastor could respond---likely to either refuse or insult him, or both---Lucifer stood back up and walked away, headed towards Alastor's room. Where he hoped he had the tools to deal with this problem. If not, this was about to get really awkward.

For a moment, he was walking alone---Alastor no doubt reeling and confused by everything that had just happened---but soon Lucifer heard a pair of quiet footsteps following behind him. So, at the very least, he was avoiding the embarrassment of headed to Alastor's room completely alone. Lucky him.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to make it there, so they avoided the attention and questions of the other residents---who would definitely take this the wrong way. And, now that he thought about it, trying to explain to Charlie that he was not going to Alastor's room to have sex with him was his worst nightmare. He'd rather fight Michael a second time, honestly.

So, with that in mind, Lucifer quickly made his way into the room and shut the door as soon as Alastor was inside---leaving the two of them completely alone. With none of the other residents around to provide a buffer, and the aggravation of an argument distracting him, Lucifer suddenly found himself feeling...very awkward, oddly enough.

"So..." he started, "do you have anything in here to help take care of..."

He gestured to Alastor's singular antler and, after a bout of silence, Alastor carefully shook his head, sitting down in one of the two armchairs in the room.

"It will fall off naturally," he said simply, sounding resigned to Lucifer's presence, "be patient."

Patience was never exactly Lucifer's forte, but it wasn't exactly like he had a choice. He could always leave, of course, but doing that right after he'd offered to help would make him look like an asshole---and, while he usually wouldn't give a shit whether or not Alastor thought he was an asshole, seeing him in this state made him feel a bit more...self-conscious. So, in an effort to keep things from getting too silent, he decided to ask some questions about...whatever the fuck was going on here.

"So...is this supposed to be painful?" he asked, fiddling with the ring still fitted on his left hand.

Alastor kept silent, staring critically at him for a moment---almost like he was trying to figure out if there was any way Lucifer could use the answer against him which, knowing him, was probably exactly it. Once he seemed to figure it out, he answered.

"On Earth? No. In Hell? Yes."

"Ah..."

What was Lucifer supposed to fucking say to that? "Sorry, I didn't mean to damn humanity to eternal suffering, my bad?" Seriously? Why did trying to have a conversation with this bastard have to be so fucking difficult?

"What…is this, exactly?”

Alastor looked at him like he was stupid, "as you could see, if you'd open your god-damned eyes, my antlers are shedding."

"Of all the fucking- yes I fucking know that, but why?!"

"When humans get sent to Hell we are given new forms, sometimes those forms include animalistic features," he explained slowly, getting on Lucifer's every nerve, "when they do, then the demon in question develops the traits that match their features. I've developed deer-like features, so therefore I've also developed some of the matching traits."

As much as Alastor's condescension aggravated him, Lucifer couldn't really say anything about it, considering that he hadn't known any of this in the first place. What could he say? Spending 99% of his time hidden away in his palace making toy ducks and looking forward to the next time he'd get to call Charlie meant that he didn't really know much about the people that inhabited his realm...or how any of it worked.

"So, what? Did you really like deer when you were alive or something?" He asked sarcastically, trying to push past the topic of his own ignorance. It wasn't something he was proud of.

Alastor's ears suddenly pinned back, so that definitely struck a nerve.

Lucifer grinned, 'interesting.'

"Oh, was that it? Were you a deer boy?" He pressed more, intentionally taking on the same condescending tone that Alastor had, just to get on his nerves.

"The hunter that shot me apparently thought I was a deer, you piss-haired imbecile."

"Oh really? Because I heard through the grapevine that you turn into exactly what you are when you get sent to Hell."

The hair on the back of Lucifer's neck stood up as a sharp static whine made its way to his ears, Alastor practically seething at him.

"Is that what you are," he continued, "prey? A scared little doe trying desperately to prove he's more than just a footnote in the food chain?"

Alastor stood up---eyes darkening and forming into radio dials, limbs elongating as a bright green lightning began to emanate from his shadows.

"Lis†̸̨͔̭̣͔͆͌̈́͊͝Ȩ̶̙̦̘̮̀͒͗̀̏̐ñ̸͉̟̺̬̞̋̏͑́̆ ̷͎͙̮̼̝̔̾͑̍̅H̸̗͇̤̤̗͛̈̆̓̿È̵̡̤̜̲̬͊̒̈́̉͝R̵̡̛̠͍̭͚͊̊̎̇Ę̶͓̫̰̪̀͐̃̊͊̈́ ̶̼͇͎̬̙̾̀͛͐̇¥̴̧̛͖͇͔̲̓̽͗͌Ö̸̝̦̦̙̣̐͋̇͒́Ú̸͚̮͍̺͚͌̈͌̾͘ ̴̥͎̰̣̳́̋̑̓̒Ļ̴̣͉̞̟̓̒̈́̋́Ì̷̖̳͉̳̯̒̒̇̈́̈†̸̬̱͓͙̜̄̅́̽͝†̴̡̧̝͔̳̑̏̒͊̚L̴͇͇̪̈́͆̌̓̉ͅͅÈ̴̡͉͖̗̟̆̀͆̿͝-"

He suddenly hissed and reverted back to normal, falling back into the chair as his antler, while trying to grow larger to match his form, had grown in the wrong place---pieces of antler now coated in blood and sticking...through Alastor's head.

And Lucifer's smugness at finally managing to get to him quickly dissipated, being replaced by the feeling of...being Hell's biggest jackass.

"Oh shit- hold on, I'm gonna- fuck," he rushed to Alastor's side, hands erratically moving all around him, but still not quite touching---unsure of what to do to help.

"Just...pull it out," Alastor hissed furiously, small streaks of blood running down his face.

Lucifer's eyes widened, "what?!"

There was just- there was no fucking way. The antler was still technically connected to his head, but it was basically hanging on by threads of...fuck, he didn't even know what that shit was! He didn't know fucking human/deer/demon biology! And the, now enlarged, antler was literally sticking through his fucking skull!!!

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO???

Alastor practically fucking snarled at him, pain making him near-delirious and livid---eyes darkening and tense shadows crawling frantically up the walls, almost like they were trying to escape the pain.

"Break off the £̶͈̖̰͈͙̎͋͆̉͠µ̶͇͕̰̻͉̈́̌̔͗̕¢̶͍̥̦̥̥̐̈́̓͝͝k̸̢̜̣̤͓̈́̓͑̆͠ï̸̖͚͍̯̝̀̿̓̔͝ņ̷̬̘̝͉̃́͋̓̕͠g̷͈͎͔̩̱̋̎̎̈́̇ base and maneuver it ou†̸͓̳̮̟̪͆̌̈̃͂ ̴̞̘̻̫͂̄̽̋͠ͅð̶̛̛̘̜̣̰̬̓̉̇£̵͙̝͓̞̗̂̓̅̆͝ ̵̡̜̥̬̭̈̌͛̐̕ḿ̵̠̮̦͙͎̄͋͋͐¥̵̛̼̖͈͒̑̆̀͜ͅ ̶̛͍̖̦̩̲̿̃̐̀H̴̡̤̮͔̪͊̒̓̉̑È̷̟͇͔͓͇̀̄̿̇́Ä̷̩̤͖͉̓̿̋̓͆͜Ð̷͔̹̮̜̲́̿͒͊͠!̸̦͈̱͉͇͆͆͂̒̈!̸͈̪͚̘̥̊͆̋̕͝!̷̥̯̩̬̫͂̈́͂̍͠"

In a panic, before he could think twice about it, he did as Alastor said---breaking off the base as quickly as he could before carefully maneuvering the parts that were stuck out and pulling it free. The antler immediately slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor, the blood that now coated his palms making it hard for him to hold onto anything.

His eyes shot back to Alastor, finding him clutching his head and trying to breathe through clenched teeth. So he ran to the bathroom and desperately rummaged through the cabinets until he found a first aid kit and some clean rags. He rushed back into the room and quickly began trying to clean up the blood that bubbled up from the wound. At first Alastor flinched away from his touch, but after a moment he allowed Lucifer's touch---leaning into his hands as he worked.

At least, until he began cleaning the wound.

Once he brought out the antiseptic and began gently cleaning the area around the wound, Alastor hissed and gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting on---knuckles white. So Lucifer absent-mindedly put a hand on his back and gently rubbed circles to soothe him, a habit from when he was still married to Lillith that he still hadn't been able to shake. Alastor jumped at the touch but, after some hesitation, he allowed it, and Lucifer couldn't help but wonder-

'When was the last time he'd ever been touched gently?'

He was always the one touching others, more to exert power over them than anything, but the only time Lucifer had ever seen anyone touch him, they were trying to hurt him---trying and failing. The thought made him oddly self-conscious, the ring on his finger suddenly burning like a brand.

"You're wrong," Alastor said suddenly, making him jump.

"What?"

"Your demonic form isn't affected by what you are when you're alive, but by what you hate," he clarified, "I hate timidness, I hate fear, I hate prey---so I was made into something that embodied all of those traits."

Lucifer didn't quite know what to say to that, so he just asked, "does it bother you?"

There wasn't any malicious intent behind the question, he was genuinely curious.

"No, it doesn't."

"Why not?"

Alastor hummed, clearly contemplating exactly what to say, all the while Lucifer watched him---something warm and insistent taking root in his chest as he did so.

"Have you ever had the pleasure of visiting the South?" Alastor asked him, his ever-present smile seeming to turn genuine.

He answered truthfully, "no."

"Well, we have quite a few local legends in the South---myths, tall tales, ridiculous lies some might call them, but we know better. Warnings, we call them."

"Now, the legends do tend to differ depending on the region, but once you've been around long enough, you tend to learn all of them---no matter where you're from," Alastor continued, "one of the stories, a favorite of mine, is that of the Not-Deer."

Lucifer leaned towards him slightly, feeling drawn in by the story, the gentle static of his voice, and the genuine love he could see that he clearly had for his home.

"The story goes that sometimes people will be driving along a back road, walking through the forest, or simply enjoying an evening out on the porch---when, suddenly, they'll see what looks like a deer," his smile suddenly changed, a curl in his lip that made Lucifer shiver, "at first glance, it looks normal enough, but if you keep looking at it you'll start to notice that something about it is not quite right. That's when you'll also notice that, just as you're staring at it, it's staring right back at you."

The shadows around them almost seemed to dance as Alastor continued, and---although Lucifer could feel fear creeping up his spine---he didn't want him to stop.

"Then you'll notice something off about its eyes---that they're far too dead, far too human, to be the eyes of a deer. Then you'll notice that its body is all wrong too, distorted and bent in all the wrong places. Then you'll notice that it's too big to be a deer, and then you'll notice the blood on its matted fur, and then you'll wonder how you'd ever thought it was a deer in the first place."

A pause.

"Then you'll notice that it's closer to you than you first thought."

Lucifer, breathless, asked, "what do you do then?"

Alastor grinned, that same curl in his lip, "you run."

Now it was easy to see why Alastor didn't particularly mind this form.

"The interesting things humans think up," Lucifer whispered and Alastor almost seemed amused by his interest.

"Indeed."

The odd feeling in his chest warmed under his gaze, and he suddenly found himself feeling the distinct sense of deja vu as well.

...and that was when it hit him.

'Oh motherfucker-'

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #devotion's posts: requests🪻 #devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

[glassartpeasants]

Run Rabbit Run .10

Yandere!Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Death, blood mentions, physical abuse, violence, implied non-con, slight non-con, not edited for shit cause it took too long to type in general

A/N: This part is all in the eyes of Kidd so enjoy. I'm so happy for this shit to be finally published cause it took me too fucking long to do. Also working on new writing styles cause i need to be a perfectionist

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

~~~

“Look at them run! This is gonna be a fun island to ransack.”

“We should find the mayor and ask him where he keeps the town's treasury.”

“Good thinking, Killer.”

Even with the conversation so short, it spoke volumes as the Victoria Punk docks on the island. The beautiful blue skies shone down on the new and upcoming worst-generation supernova. With only a few months under his belt, his name was still feared throughout the south blue. His bounty getting higher and higher with every new poster.

He has yet to lose to any marine or pirate ship. Every battle he wins only makes him all the more feared, and his crew is just as terrifying as himself. Being known for his bloodthirsty ways, people would usually give him their prized possessions just to make sure they stayed clear of his wraith. But even then, sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

“This island is smaller than I thought, but it’s still mostly populated. More people, more treasure.”

“I haven’t seen any marines since we’ve docked, no boats or anything. Do you think this island isn’t under the eye of the world government?”

“Don’t matter to me. If marines try to stop me, I’ll just crush them.” The sinister chuckle that left the man’s lips made even the strongest marine tremble. Now, with a rushing set of footsteps coming towards him, Kidd continues to smirk.

A man about his own age was running full speed at him. A look of rage crossed his features as he clutched a knife tightly in his hands. Compared to himself, the man was nothing more than a twig. No muscle or anything to back him up with the fight he was looking for.

“Oh, this outta be fun.”

“Damn pirates! Leave our island alone!” The man lifts his arm to strike the notorious captain, only to be stopped by a suffocating grip. Without a second thought, Kidd’s hand gripped the scrawny man’s neck as he lifted him up. The man drops the knife to try and pry off the hand, squeezing his throat.

“How pathetic! A string bean like you thinks he can tell me what to do?” Kidd squeezes the man's throat harder and lifts him so they're eye to eye.

“News flash, I don’t like when people tell me what to do. I’ll show you what happens to people who do.” Clawing at Kidd’s hand, the man begins to see black in his vision as he starts to gasp.

“Please let my son go! He’s the only family I have!” An old man shows up hobbling fast towards Kidd and his crew. A cane in his left hand as he struggles to stay up. 

“I don’t feel like it. Little fucker thinks he can try to attack me. Yet he didn’t even land a hit like the pathetic little thing he is.” Kidd laughs at the old man’s worried expression.

“I’ll do anything! Just please let my son go!” The old man gets on his hands and knees, begging the ruthless pirate for mercy. 

“Bring me your mayor, and I’ll think about it.”

“I am the mayor! I promise, Captain Kidd, as I have the key to City Hall and everything!” The old man pulls out a key from his pants and lifts it towards Kidd.

“Well, would you look at that? How convenient. I didn’t even have to waste time searching.” Using his devil fruit powers, Kidd gravitates the key to his open hand. Looking at the key in his hand, he looks to his friend.

“What ya think, Killer? Should I let the small fry go?”

“Might as well. We have the mayor right here.”

“Looks like it’s your lucky day. Now scram before I change my mind.” The man is dropped with a thud. Holding his throat, he coughs harshly, with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Air finally returns to his lungs.

“Run home, son. Everything will be fine! Just go home.”

“But father-”

“Go home!” Despite his pleas, the scrawny man follows his father's orders. His throat bruised as he struggles to walk. His head spinning as the lack of oxygen has taken its toll. A crippling fear plagues the son as he walks home with unstable legs. The safety of his father was all he could think about.

“Now that that little nuisance is out of the way, we can finally get what we came here for.” Turning his attention to the old man, Kidd looks down at him.

“You either give us all the treasure this town has in its treasury, or I go back and break your son's scrawny little neck.” The mayor looks in horror at the man before him.

“I can’t! We’ve been saving it to build a marine base on the island! It’s taken us years to save up that money!” Kidd only laughs in the old man’s face.

“Too bad, old man! Now, you either give us all the treasure this shit town has to offer, or you’ll see its ashes fall from the sky!”

“But! The people need that for-” Not letting the old man finish, Kidd kicked him backwards. His fragile body hits the ground and is knocked out cold.

“Wrong answer, old fool! Burn it down and take everything! Leave no stone unturned!” Kidd watched his crew scatter before starting to break into businesses, houses, and other structures. Glass shattering, and the newfound screams sounded like music to his ears.

“Heat!” Calling out to his crew, he watches the bluenette approach him.

“Yeah Captain?”

“I want you to go kill that brat while burning down buildings.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning around laughing, Kidd’s amber eyes catch the glance of a woman hiding behind a building. Her face full of fear as she shook in her place.  From where she stood, Kidd could see the way the light shone down on her. It gave her an almost angelic glow. For some reason, it ignited something inside him. Something that told him to ruin her. To rip off that halo and wings while he fucked her down to the second circle of hell. The image made him laugh as he began to move in her direction. Himmoving in the woman’s direction caused her to finally flee.

“Cat and mouse, aye?” Kidd snickers as he beckons the woman back; any metal she was wearing would drag her right back to him. He watches her stop in her tracks before being pulled back to him at full speed. Her shrieks of terror cause him to lick his lips.

The woman’s back collided with Kidd’s chest as he grabbed her wirst in an iron grip.

“Where do you think you're going?” The woman looked up at him, and he smiled at her. He watched her tremble in place.

“Y-Your Eustass Kidd…”

“Damn right. What? You afraid?” The way she uttered his name made the fire inside him only burn brighter. A delicate little thing like her screaming out his name as he left bruises on her skin had his mind running with wild thoughts.

“Please! Just let me go! I’ll give you all the money I have. Just please let me go!” He watched in amusement as the woman tried to twist and turn out of his grip. The hope dying in her eyes felt like an addictive drug. While taking in the woman's fear, he noticed a ring adorning her finger and a metal circle on your left wrist.

“Now, why would I let something I caught fair and square go?” Finally pulling her left arm closer to his view, he finds that the circle of metal adorning her wrist was, in fact, supposed to be a bracelet. A very shitty stainless steel bracelet that he could have easily made with his eyes closed. 

“Your shitty stainless steel bracelet betrayed you, princess.” The nickname fell off his tongue so smoothly that it was almost like honey. He could feel his heart quicken at the little nickname that he decided there and then.

“My fiance worked hard to make it for me!”

“Don’t make me laugh! This is the shittest piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen!” How horribly it was made felt like an insult to him. He swore a baby could make one better. Using his power, Kidd manages to contort the ugly bracelet off the woman's wrist. He brought it closer to his face just to look at it once more, and that’s when he saw the flaw in the metal. He sees the woman reach for it but simply lifts it up out of her reach to inspect it more.

“Give it back!”

“It’s ain’t even pure stainless steel. Pathetic. Not even detailed, just a circle of metal." Using his devil fruit, he crushes the bracelet into the form of a ball. Small enough to be a bullet.

“Repel.” A laugh escapes him as he watches the small ball shoot into a store window. It shatters the entire thing and breaks something inside. Now, turning back to the woman, he smirks.

“Now, c’mon. You’re coming with me.” The woman's nails dig into Kidd’s hand. Her desperate attempt at freedom only made his lust for her grow.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, princess. I’m not a very patient person.” The woman's mouth opens to say something, but a loud voice pulls his attention away.

“(Y/N)! Get your hands off of her, you filithy pirate!” So that was your name? It felt fitting for a little thing like yourself. A lovely little princess like you with such an angelic name.

Looking at the person in front of him, he sees a ring adorning their left hand. It added up to the fact that this must be your fiance. AN annoyed look plastered on Kidd’s face as he realized that what should have been a quick thing was now actually gonna be a pain in his ass. Looking the fiance up and down, Kidd knew that they stood no chance against him. A single punch could take them down, no doubt.

“Is this your pathetic fiance? Ugh, I don’t have time to deal with you. I’ve got to take this treasure I found back to the ship.”

“(Y/N)’s not going anywhere with you! Let her go pirate!” Rage filled Kidd as another small fry thinks they can tell him what to do.

“Run (....)! He’s going to kill you!” Kidd let go of your wrist for a second, only to wrap his arm around your torso. He pulled you close to his chest as he trapped your arms to your sides with his strong grip. While he’d love to turn your pathetic fiance into a bloody puddle, he just couldn’t wait to bring you back to the Victoria Punk for safekeeping.

“Killer!” Not even seconds pass before his best friend shows up next to him.

“Yeah, Kidd?”

“I need you to kill them. Little shit thinks they can tell me what I can and can’t do.” He watches his buddy look down at the horrified woman in his arms.

“Who’s she?”

“My new plaything, cutie, ain’t she?” Kidd laughs as he holds onto you tighter. Your smell was intoxicating with how close you were to him.

“No! Leave them alone!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Kidd turns around just in time so you don’t see Killer murdering your fiance. But the screams could still be heard. He looks down and sees tears slipping down your cheeks as you weep in his grasp. The pathetic fiance felt like a worthless thing to cry about, in his personal opinion. But seeing your tears had his pants growing tighter.

“What a pretty sight, don’t you think?” The look of horror on your face as you watched your town burn to the ground made Kidd feel like we were on cloud nine. He just knew that the little angel he plucked from gods hand would surely be a fuck to experience. 

~~~

“Oi Kidd.”

“What is it Killer?” Watching his friend approach him, Kidd simply took a hard drink of the alcohol in his hand. His eyes scanned the bar as he watched multiple women look at him with less-than-holy intentions.

“Do you want me to go unlock that chick on the ship now? She’s been on the ship since we took her from that island a week ago? Plus, you're at the bar getting plastered and beckoning other women over.” 

“Nah. Keep her there a little longer. Plus, where would she go? It’s not like she has a home to go back to. I could honestly keep her as long as I want!” Laughing, Kidd took another swing of his drink. Having a personal fleshlight aboard the ship at all times was an opportunity only a fool would pass up.

“If you say so.”

“Come get a drink, Killer! Unwind and enjoy the lack of Marines!” Chugging down the alcohol, Kidd slammed down the empty glass on the table. His eye scanned the room, and despite the multiple women that occupied the bar, none gave him that rush that you did when he first saw you. While there were women who looked at him with lust, the fear that was in your eyes made more of an impact on his sexual desires.

Sure, he’s taken women to the Victoria Punk, but they're always gone before sunrise. No woman he’s brought to bed has ever spent a full day on the ship. Until you came along. You’ve spent a full week under the deck of the Victoria with only him and Killer knowing. And it’ll stay that way if he could help it. Having a secret little place to relieve his stress and get his fill sounded perfect for when he was stuck on the seas without a bar to be seen.

A little wingless angel stuck in the dark.

~~~

Stumbling along the hallways, Kidd can’t help but chuckle as he makes his way to your room. He’s been drinking till the early before a sudden lust flooded his body. The image of you laying beneath him was too stong to ignore. He wanted to hear your cries and moans. Wanted to feel your nails dig into his skin and cause him too bleed. 

When he opened the door that kept you locked away, he saw you sleeping peacefully. Your face content as you lay on the tattered blankets that used to hold prisioners. The light giving him just enough to walk towards a crate to light up a lantern. Once he closed and locked the door again, the lantern was now the only sorce of light. 

He stumbled over to where your head lay before sitting down. The vibrations caused you to stir, yet you refused to awaken fully. It caused a scowl to appear on Kidd’s painted lips before he tugged on a strand of your hair. The shock of your hair being tugged made your hand go to soothe the throb that followed suit.

Rubbing your eyes, you look up.”Kidd? W-Why are you here? It’s late.” Your confusion was clear in your voice, but Kidd paid no mind.

“Mmm…gonna fuck ya. Wanna hear my princess cry out my name.” Slurring his speech, Kidd laughs as he grabs your wrist and drags you up to him. The chain attached to your ankle rattled as he had you face to face.

The fear that still swirled in your eyes got him drunker than any alcohol could ever do. Your soft skin against his rough, calloused hands felt as if he were touching something sacred.

Grabbing your chin, he pulls you in for a kiss. He could feel you try to pull away, but you were no match for his strength, and he loved that. How weak you were compared to him had his already hard cock throbbing. You were the defenseless little princess who relied on him for everything.

The kiss only got deeper as he spurred himself on in his head. He pushed his tongue past your lips and groaned when he felt your own. Your taste was sweet as he explored your mouth. No matter how many times he’s kissed you, it always felt just as electric as it did the day he first kissed you. Your lips are so soft as they smudged his lipstick with how harshly he was kissing you.

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he slammed you down on the ground before climbing on top of your body. His lips were still locked with yours as your scent overwhelmed him. It sent a fire hot sensation in his abdomen as he started to press closer to you.

Bringing both wrists above his head, he holds them both with one hand. With his other hand now free, he runs his fingertips underneath your shirt. He feels you shiver against his touch, and it causes one to go down his own spine.

Pulling his lips away from yours, a thick strand of saliva connected his mouth to yours. Hearing you gasp and pant for breath makes him slightly grip your wrists harder as he stares down at you. Your lips were swollen from his harsh kiss and sporting the lipstick that once adorned his own lips.

“K-Kidd, you're drunk. Perhaps you should just sleep. You don’t want a hangover, do you?” The nervousness and pleas that slipped past your lips went unheard by him. All he could see was his princess lying under him. Even though you tried to squirm and wiggle away, all Kidd felt was you rubbing against him. 

“Fuck.” Kidd whispers under his breath as he begins to rub his clothed cock against you. His face is right above yours as he feels your breath fanning against his face. Through his lidded eyes, Kidd can see your eyes are closed, and you're biting your bottom lip.

Moving both your wrists to one hand, Kidd uses his free one to grab your chin. “Fucking look at me. I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” Kidd can feel his heart double in speed when he’s met with your eyes staring at him intensely yet glassy.

Kidd groans out before licking his lips. Letting go of your chin, Kidd reaches down to unbuckle his pants. His eyes still strained on you and he can’t help but notice all the bites and bruises he’s adorned on your body since you’ve been here. It only makes Kidd’s need for you higher.

“What if we do this tomorrow?” Your words break through Kidd’s lust-clouded mind. ”You won’t even remember this since you're drunk, right? We can do it tomorrow!” Beads of sweat dropped from your forehead as you talked to Kidd. Obviously hoping that he might fall for the bait.

Kidd’s eyes stare at you before letting out a yawn. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds before getting up and moving away from your body. Only to grab it seconds later and drag you to lay on the tattered blankets. He fell on top of you, making you let out an ‘oof’.

The warmth your body excluded made made Kidd’s eyes grow heavy as he let out another yawn. Placing his head onto of your breasts, he allowed his drunken self just an hour or two to sleep before going back into his own quarters. No harm in a measly two hours. 

~~~

The sky filled with smoke as Kidd angrily desetroyed anything he deemed mocked him. Living or not, his anger was his own fault as ahe had no one to blame but himself. Ever since that drunken night he slept by your side, he’s never been able to sleep normally again.

Before he used to sleep all throughout the night but now. He’d wake up every two hours reaching out for someoen that wasn’t there. He’s never slept with someone all night. Or at all. But now that he’s gotten a taste of what it felt like to sleep next to someone, it wans’t something his body could sleep without. And it pissed him off.

Sure, he loved fucking you whenever he wanted, but now, it’s like he can’t go even an hour without thinking about you. Working in his workshop became a pain in the ass as he could be working on his crew’s weapons only to see your eyes staring at him in his imagination. How blown over they are when he fucks you or how you looked at him when he even enters a room.

He couldn’t even sleep with other women anymore cause his mind kept going to you! All there was was you. It pissed him off to the point he didn’t bother seeking you out of your company for a week and counting. A small part of him begged to go below deck to see the angel he stole from god. Yet the other him spoke curses on how you’ve affected him. It felt as if his head was splitting from the battle going on inside him.

“You're scowling more than usual. What’s wrong?” His friend's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood next to him. 

Running a hand through his hair, Kidd hisses. “It’s not something you can help with, so buzz off.”

“Is it about that girl below deck?”

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah her?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Snapping his head towards the masked man, Kidd glared at him. 

“Something obviously happened, so stop trying to act like nothing did.” Killer crossed his arms as he looked at his stubborn friend.

“She’s invading my mind like a damn disease! Can’t even go an hour without her popping up in my mind! Not to mention, I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a month!”

“Can’t even fuck another whore without imagining it’s her! It’s pissing me off! Is this some sort of devil fruit?!” A snort comes from behind Killer’s mask, making Kidd madder.

“Jesus christ, your so stupid.”

“I’m not fucking stupid! If you know what's wrong with me, then spit it out!”

“It’s called falling in love, you idiot.”

Kidd’s eyes widened as he felt his heart stop. “No shot! That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard! I’m not falling in love.”

“Oh really? Well then, let her go, it’s been six months-”

“-No.”

“You're not in love with her, but you refuse to let her go?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Kidd. Whatever you say.”

~~~

Bursting open the door, Kidd stomps through his room. His rage fills the small space as his heart beats harshly. Once again, a marine ship ruined his supply trip to an island. While normally he wouldn’t care and go on and fight, Killer advised against it. Kidd had a good amount of sake a few hours earlier and wouldn’t be on his A game if they took charge.

While Killer was right, Kidd was still upset that he wouldn’t be able to get supplies for his crew for another day till they reached the next island.  His crew had to go hungry for a day simply because of some annoying marines.

“God fucking damnit! Those fucking marines keep getting in my way!” Kidd’s eyes scan the room as he tries to find something to throw. When his eyes landed on a metal butterfly he made for you, he grabbed it off the dresser in a quick movement.

“Fuck!” Throwing it as hard as he could, he aimed for the bedroom door, which was already covered in marks from the other times he'd thrown knives at the door. The sound of a sucked-in breath makes him snap his head in your direction.

“What the fuck are you staring at?!” He watches you scoot away from him, and it only fuels his drunken rage. Who did you think you were to run away from him? To look at him with that face? Do you think it's funny when shit doesn't go his way?

His anger only heightened even more as he wrapped his hand around your foot. Digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from him.

As soon as you were close enough to him, he grabbed your neck and lifted you into the air. “I said, what the fuck are you staring at?!” He watched you try to pry off his fingers off your neck. The small sting your nails brought only served to piss him off more.

“You're happy, aren’t you?! Do you think the Marines are going to catch me, and you’ll be free?! Is that it?!”

“I-I can’t breathe…Kidd please…” He watched as tears streamed down your face and onto his hand. The tear felt like a needle poking into his heart.

“Stupid bitch!” Stumbling over his own feet, Kidd chucks you against the wall. He watched you hit the wall and onto the floor with a loud ‘thud’ before what sounded like a crack whispered in his ears. He examines your body, not moving, and it causes a hard scowl on his face.

“Get up, damnit! I barely threw you!” Growling, Kidd wobbles over to your body before falling to his knees. His sight is blurry as his head seems to pound. When he slid his fingers through your hair, his brain failed to register the wet substance that coated his hand. He pulls on your hair so he can look you in the eyes.

“Fucking pathetic! Why do I even keep you around when you're so fucking useless?!” Your silence had Kidd’s drunken self slightly coherent.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” He grabs your face and, through his drunken haze, starts to see a red liquid drip down your face. A red handprint of blood was left on your cheek when he slightly moved his hand.

Your eyes fluttering shut made him sober up as the blood running down your face finally set in.

“Oi! Keep your eyes open!” Moving his hand in front of your face back and forth, his heart rate peaks when he finally watches your eyes fully close. Pulling your body close to his own, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you harder. Worry sets in as you don’t respond.

Picking you up to carry you, he hastly stumbles out of his room and makes a dash to the infirmary. The sound of his footsteps echoed through out the halls. His mouth goes dry as your lack of movement sobers him up to accurately find the room.

To his luck, Killer was already in the infirmary, counting on what they needed to restock.

“Killer, I fucked up.”

~~~

His eyes stared at the carved door as he laid his head on your chest. Your heartbeat pounding in his ears as he tried to ignore the small blood splatter on the floor that he forgot to clean up after the incident.

Your fingers running through his hair did little to calm the thoughts in his head. Even though he laid against you, he felt it wasn’t close enough. Close seemed to not be close enough.

Lifting his body up, he laid down next to you before he pulled you to his chest, you hair slightly tickling his skin. He wrapped his arms around you all the way to the point you wouldn’t be able to leave. Moving his legs, he tangled his limbs with yours. Only then did he feel you were close enough. Your scent a silent lullaby as he raced with thoughts. What if’s ran rampant.

‘What if I just took a nap instead?’

‘What if you got hurt even worse then i thought?’

‘What if you didn’t wake up?’

The thought of you no longer sharing his bed caused a panic to settle in Kidd’s stomach. Your warmth had become the only thing that allowed him to sleep peacefully. Hearing you breathe managed to be the only stress reliever that worked.

It was obvious to him now, that no matter what he might say, he couldn’t live without you.

~~~

The sound of the waves crashing against the beach felt like laughter as Kidd watched you sailing away on a ship he’d never seen before. His scream out to you echoed across the water only to come back to him, mocking him for being too late. Now, he got to watch the only thing that made him calm leave him.

The sand below him showed muddy footprints before being washed away by the ocean. Thunder and harsh rain poured down on Kidd, his hair sticking to his face as the rain pelted down his hair. Whether it was rain or tears that slid down his cheeks was anyone's guess. It felt as if time stopped while he tried to piece together what now?

His goal to find the one piece and become King of the Pirates still ran strong through his veins, but now it felt different. Not even days before this, he began to dream of when he’d finally be called King of the Pirates, when you’d be clinging to his arm and congratulating him, kissing him, and telling him you loved him. But now, that’s what it’d only be—a dream.

~~~

It’s been months since Kidd watched you sail away. Each night was plagued with that image of you sailing farther and farther away from him, every time only seconds late. Not a night went by where he didn’t wake up in a cold sweat. He’d reach out for you and be hit with the painful reminder that it was real—that you were gone.

Yet no matter where he went, it always felt like he saw you out of the corner of his eye. Or how sometimes he’d hear your voice in his ear. But when he turned to check it out, there was nothing. It felt as if he was going insane without you. And while there was intense longing, there was rage.

How dare you leave him? Don’t you know how much you meant to him? Hasn’t he shown he’s learned his lesson? He’s told you he loved you and you still left him. You have no one other then him, he made sure of it. Yet you still left.

Killer tried to tell him to get over you, that there were plenty of other fish in the sea, but he knew what he meant. He shouldn’t be shocked. You weren't even supposed to be with him for as long as you were. It was only a matter of time before the ‘relationship’ Kidd built with you would burn before his eyes. Even if he refused Killer’s words, any sane person would have agreed.

But now here he was, missing you with fury boiling inside him as he stared out over the crowd in the auction house. Privileged entitled assholes as far as the eye can see. All waiting for the show to begin.

~~~

Emotions pumped through his veins as he stared at himself in the mirror. A small splatter of blood on his cheek as all he could think about was you. How happy he was that you were back where you belonged. That after months of sleeplessness not knowing where you were, you were finally back in his arms. Whether you liked it or not wasn't something he cared to hear. He had you first. Those damn Straw Hats took you away, but now, you were back.

But you came back with a price.

Whatever happened in those months you were away changed you. All you did was fight and yell, scream and punch. Instead of the quiet angel he stole, a venomous fallen angel stood before him. But despite missing his fearful princess, the fight you put up managed to also have his blood pumping hotter. Watching you try to fight him only to lose gave him a high that only your fear could compare to.

Seeing your eyes widen in fear when he threatened to cut off your legs made a shiver of pleasure shoot up his spine. Even after you spit venom, he could not help but want you even more. Having you so close to him again made his body go haywire. Hearing you scream out in pain reminded him of when you screamed out his name in such a different, lustful tone. Watching tears stream down your face when he threw punch after punch had him resisting the urge to fuck you bloody and bruised. 

While the image was tempting, he had things to do, and he couldn’t let you think you got away with it. So he’d just send Killer down to patch you up after you’d been drenched in your own blood for a while. Maybe it’ll give you some time to contemplate. But if not, that’s okay.

He kinda liked that taste of your blood.

~~~

His heart couldn’t help but leap when he felt your lips running smoothly against his own, your warm skin glowing underneath his fingertips as you cupped his face. A calm washed over him at the small gesture. He pulled you closer and kissed you deeper, never wanting to let you go. But when he pulled away for a breath, he saw the stains of his lipstick on your face, the sight making him smile.

Kidd couldn’t help but feel the shiver that ran down his spine when he felt your breath against his neck. The rigid, cold metal of the collar on your neck had him silently sick in a breath.

“If you're gonna make me a new collar, can it be one I can sleep in?” When you mumbled those words into his skin, flashbacks from that fateful day rushed back to him. How you got out of your collar, so he obviously had to make a bigger and better one. And now you're trying to get a different one?

“Do you know why you're in that collar?” He looked down and was met with your pleading eyes.

“I ran away.” Kidd grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his hips harshly. Anger starts to surface at the memories.

“Yeah, you did. How can I trust you not to do it again, hmm? This collar makes my devil fruit powers work even better than the last one. So why should I give rewards to bad girls?”

“Can I do something to make it up to you?” The idea Killer shut down a week ago comes back to his mind. He’s done a few good studies to understand how it works, and it sounds pretty easy—easy and a perfect way to show everyone who you belong to.

“Take off your shirt.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me. Take it off.” Kidd watches you with heat pooling in his abdomen as he takes longing glimpses at your bare chest.

“Back to me.” He watches you listen and can’t help but run his fingers along your skin. Tracing your spine causes a shiver to run down his.

Getting up, he placed you down on the chair before tying you to it with a piece of metal. The sight makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

“H-Hey! What the hell!” Kidd only laughed before turning away from you. 

“You know, Killer originally talked me out of this, but since you wanted to be rewarded for bad behavior, I think it’ll go nicely with your new collar.” A rush of power surges through Kidd’s bones as he collects everything he needs.

“It’ll also show anybody who tries to take you away from me that you belong to me.” With his hands finally full, Kidd turns back to you. Your face goes rigid as he walks in your direction, which in turn makes you try to scoot away. Grabbing the side of the chair, he brings you back to him.

“Don’t worry, princess, I did my research.” A major rush of power flowed through Kidd's veins as he watched you struggle to escape.

“This is completely unreasonable! You can’t be serious!”

“You wanted to make it up to me? Well, here's your chance.” Kidd could see the panic in your eyes as he started to heat up the metal pole in his hands.

“There has to be something else, please, Kidd!” In a swift and rash motion, Kidd threw his hand towards you and felt your cheek collide with his knuckles.

“Be fucking grateful that I’m even giving you this chance! Those damn Straw Hats taught you that you can be a brat! I’m going to kill each one of those fuckers! I’ll do it in front of you so you can see what happens when you leave me!”

“You’ll never beat them! They’re gonna come for me and kick your ass!” Red clouded Kidd’s vision hearing your words. Grabbing your hair, he tugs it back so you face him. The tears in your eyes go ignored as Kidd’s grip on the metal pole tightens. He didn’t give you a second to speak before pushing the burning hot pole on your chest.

The scream you let out when the metal was fully pushed onto your skin swiped him out of his rage. The red that once blinded him was now gone as he quickly pulled away from you. He’d never heard something so ear-piercing and painful in his life. It echoed all throughout his workshop, and he felt a panic set in when he noticed he skipped a step in his rage and how you’ve now passed out.

“Shit! Shit! Oi, princess!” Grabbing your chin, his eyes studied your face to see any sign of consciousness, yet he was met with none. His heart rate spiked as he ripped away the metal he tied you with before carrying you bridal style. He rushed to the infirmary and cursed himself internally for not following all the steps as he tried to ignore the graphic third-degree burn on your chest.

~~~

All he could feel was numb, yet a pain that was indescribable when you moved his head to look at his arm. What once used to be a full limb was now nothing more than a stump. He could see his body covered in bandages as the memory of what happened came back to him. Words couldn’t seem to form as he felt his dreams crash down around him. 

“You should lay down and make sure everything heals properly.” Using the arm he had left, Kidd pulled you onto his lap. Burying his head into your scarred chest, it's then that he feels the tears on his own cheeks.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s cried like this, or if he’s ever cried like this. Crying so hard that he struggled to breathe and began to shake. It felt like the walls were closing in on him as he cried into your chest. All he could think of was how would he become King of the Pirates with one arm? It set him back so  much that he felt hopeless.

But when you wrapped your arms around him and slid your fingers through his hair, he pulled you closer despite his bandaged torso. The slight pain he felt was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. 

“Just breathe, okay? In and out.” Following your command, Kidd tries to copy your breathing despite continuing to cry. Your now-soaked shirt rubbed against his face, and it only worsened the pain in his heart.

The small and gentle tune you began to hum made his hold tighter. He never wanted to let you go as you comforted him when he needed you the most.

~~~

Kidd sat on a chair next to you in the hospital bed as worry and fear took over him. His anger once again took charge and caused him to hurt you horrifically. Seeing you laying there with bandages covering your head caused a guilt he’s never felt before. He remembered the amount of blood you lost when he ran you to the hospital. It dripped from your head all the way to the hospital.

He managed to nab a doctor right away and have him work on you. Every second you were in the surgery room felt like hell. And what the doctor told him what the diagnosis was made Kidd’s heart clench.

“Since she fell off your ship, there's no doubt she has a sort of head/brain trauma. Long-lasting effects could stem from this injury. Here’s a list of some effects that you can read while I go grab another IV bag.”

Which is where Kidd sat now. Watching you breathe. Watching you breathe with the crumbled up list in hand. Your eyes closed as you sleep, unaware of the wreck he is. Grabbing your hand, Kidd brought it close to his lips and kissed your knuckles before holding it against his forehead.

“I’m sorry, princess. You can pull through this. You have to.”

Caressing your face, Kidd looks at you, sleeping peacefully. The moonlight shining off you gave you that same angelic glow he saw you with all those years ago. Despite the scars that covered your body, you were still so beautiful. Rubbing your cheek, Kidd looked down at you lovingly.

“This is how it should be, sleeping next to me.” With your legs tangled in his, Kidd scoots his body closer to yours before kissing your forehead. A wicked smile slithers along Kidd’s face.

“All those memories gone. No more talking about home. No more flinching, no more Straw Hats.”

“Those bastards, trying to play hero and stole you from me. Thinking your up for grabs when you obviously belong to me. Meant for me. You were meant to be mine and stay by my side. Why else would I have gotten a second chance?”

“Now, I’ll always have you. You look up at me with loving eyes instead of hatred. Instead of hitting me, you run up to hug me. You kiss me passionately like I’ll disappear any moment. I love it when you run up to me and jump so I can catch you. I love it when you sit next to me while I work in my workshop, giving me praise. If I had known you hit your head harder, I would have you in my arms willingly…”

“Then I would’ve thrown you against the wall harder.”

~~~

‘That selfish prick! After everything I’ve done to keep her in the dark, he comes around and fucks it up! Everything was going great! She loved me yet-’

“Fuck!” Slamming his metal hand against the bench in his workshop, Kidd begins to tear it apart. Weapons were thrown to unknown corners of the room, pieces of metal scattered across the floor, and a dent in the bench.

Kidd gritted his teeth as his whole body uncontrollably shook. The dried blood staining his hand only continued to serve his rage. Because even if Heat was already dead, the damage had been done.  The day of you holding him tight and kissing him was over. He’ll never be able to feel you close to him again. At least, not without a fight.

Hot tears began to stream down his face as he gripped the dented bench with an iron grip. His tears felt like an acid against his skin as his vision blurred. The smirk the bastard wore while he bled out behind you burned into Kidd’s memory.

Giving you a devil fruit, a logia type at that was infuriating. How the hell did he manage to get it on the boat and have you eat it? You were always by his side, so how could Heat have given it to you? The day of the fight? Or when he caught you and Heat talking to each other alone? How could he not see the signs earlier? Why did it take the busting open of your old cell door twice for him to finally understand what he needed to do?

Yet it was too late.

“God damnit.” Kidd swallowed the lump in his throat before letting out a sniffle. “This is bad. How am I gonna fix this? There’s gotta be a way-”

“Kidd.” The workshop door opens, and Killer stands in the doorway. Quickly wiping his tears, Kidd tries to regain steady breathing, hoping Killer doesn’t see his moment of weakness.

“What Killer?”

“You better have a good plan. Explain where Heat went and where (Y/N) went.” Kidd stays silent, which is all Killer needs.

“Did you-”

“I saw everything from the shadows. This could be a sign, you know?”

“What kind of fucking sign?”

“You know what kind of sign I’m talking about.” Silence covers the workshop.

“Maybe it’s time to let her-”

“No!” Kidd slams his metal hand on the bench with enough force to cause another dent.

“Well, what do you think you should do then?” Once again, the workshop goes silent.

“Giving you a week to decide for (Y/N). As for Heat, better pull something good out of your ass.” Just as soon as Killer entered, he left. Leaving Kidd to wallow in his predicament.

~~~

“Do you really think she’s on this island, Kidd? It’s been a week since the paper came out.”

“She will be on this island. If she isn’t, I’ll kill anyone I need to to figure out where she went. I don’t want a single civilian to go unquestioned. If they refuse to tell you, don’t be afraid to use violence.”

The bustling port of Haylard Island has Kidd’s eyes scanning every inch of movement. If you were on that dock, he wanted to make sure he saw you. There was no room for him to be making mistakes. He’s already made enough.

“Burn down buildings, steal supplies, and anything you think is worth something. Do not stop until the ashes block out the sun.”

“Yes, captain!” Hearing his own crew leave, Kidd finally let out a shaky inhale while looking down. The sea stared back at him, once again mocking him for losing you.

“Laugh all you want, but take my word. I’ll burn and kill my way back to her. And nothing will stop me until she’s in my arms.”

~~~

Despite the night once being full of cheers, the marine group of G-5 now found themselves fighting for their lives. What should have been a celebration was now a fight to the death as they were ambushed in the dark of the night. The once-empty sky was now covered in flaming arrows heading directly toward them.

“Everyone, man, your stations! We’re under attack, so get ready for a fight!” The captain's commands echo throughout the ship, and no one wastes a second. Running up and down the ship, Captain Tashigi checks to see if everything is in order to ensure supreme safety.

“Captain!” the sound of a terrified marine rings through her ears as she runs to the voice. Coming up from below the deck, she’s met with fire and smoke. It felt as if her heart was going to explode as all she could hear was marines yelling and the flickering of flames.

The flames only got higher as she tried to figure out what to do. Before she went below deck, they were able to contain the fires, but now, it’s almost consumed the entire deck. With how fast the flames were spreading, there was no doubt that the ship would be at the bottom of the sea before sunrise. 

Grabbing a transponder snail she kept in her pocket, she began to call the nearest marine base to help with the attack. She realized this wasn’t a battle they could fight on their own. 

“Hello! This is Captain Tashigi of G-5. We need backup right away! We’re under attack, and the ship is engrossed in flames!”

“G-5, this is (....)! We will send you back up right away! What are your locations, and can you see the attackers?”

“Our coordinates are (-------)! I don’t know, as the flames are so tall and the smoke is-” The whole ship shook as something hit the deck, causing Tashigi to drop the transponder snail and fall backward.

“-Oof!”

“Captain are you okay?”

“Something just hit the boat! I’m unaware of what it is!” Quickly getting back on her feet, Tashigi grabs her sword along with the transponder snail.

“I’m going to go check it out.”

“Keep us on the line.”

“Will do.” Putting the snail away for safekeeping, Tashigi grips her sword with both hands as she starts to walk carefully through the flames.

As soon as she stepped in, the sound of a marine screaming echoed across the deck. Panic set in the captain's stomach as her hands began to shake. The screams of pain and terror only caused more panic to set in. But she’s the captain. She has to be strong. She can’t back down.

“G-5, what’s going on?!” The screams of pain and agony continue before a loud audible SNAP rings in Tashigi’s ears. Assuming the worst, she feels all the color drain from her face.

And just like that, it was quiet.

“G-5?” With her voice trembling, Tashigi couldn’t help but be frozen in place.

“Tashigi.” Before she could scream, a rough, calloused hand covered her mouth. Looking in her peripheral vision, she saw Vice Admiral Smoker motioning her to shush. Nodding her head, Smoker lowered his hand.

“What’s going on, Vice Admiral?”

“Almost the entire deck has been engulfed in flames. We need to go to the other side of the ship.”

“But what about-”

“It’s silent over those flames, Tashigi.” With tears prickling in her eyes, she understands what he’s saying despite wishing it not to be true. Grabbing her hand, Smoker runs to the end of the ship, where there are fewer flames. Their footsteps echo, giving away their position to the attackers.

As she was running, Tashigi’s sword started vibrating before being completely pulled from her hands. She watched it fly backward and into the flames. A metal thunk rang across the deck, making her eyes widen. When she looked into the flames, she felt her heart stop.

Walking through the flames was no other than the man who had the whole new world in the palm of his hand.

“V-Vice Admiral…it’s-”

“Go hide, Tashigi. I’ll handle this.” Putting himself in front of her, Smoker points towards the darkness.

“But-”

“I’ll be fine. Go hide. Don’t come out until I come to get you.”

With a tremble in her voice, she responds. “Okay.”

Running into the darkness, Tashigi searches around with a racing heart, desperate to find a hiding spot. The sound of unintelligible yelling and metal clanking only makes her search more frantic. She should be fighting, but if Smoker says to hide…

“Killer! Go after the girl. She ran straight ahead.”

“You’ll have to get past me first. Both of you.”

“Vice Admiral.” Whispering to herself, Tashigi runs around some more before spotting an empty barrel. With no more time to spend, she jumps in.

As she gets as comfortable as she can, she puts the barrel lid over her head, leaving her in complete darkness. Her knees pressed against her chest as she struggles to take deep breaths. She tries to prevent herself from shivering.

‘This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ She thinks to herself as tears slip down her cheeks. She knew the stakes there were to bring you to Sabaody, but they were so careful about not giving away. It was then taking care of you. How did Kidd figure out it was them?

A loud thud can be heard throughout the deck before silence. No words were spoken, and the fear was only intensified. Tashigi felt her throat grow dry as she started to hear boots shuffling along the deck.

Sounds of things being searched causes her heart to beat out of her chest. Her body begins to shake as she hears the boots walking towards her hiding spot. 

The moonlight soon shines down on her as the barrel's lid pops open. She looks up and sees no one. The moonlight shone down on her as she feared who had opened the lid, but she soon gets her answer.

“Found you.”

~~~

Haven't been able to draw for shit so no picture

@rebeccawinters @iggy5055 @dairygrrl @childconnoisseur @menifire1092 @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @lovemesomefanfic846 @ryuv1i @carpinchootaku @misoxramen @pinkfoxmusic @mizzhellsingsstuff

#one piece x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #tw: violence #tw: abuse #tw: blood #tw death #dark content things

[delta-pavonis]

Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him. 

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time. 

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence. 

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed. 

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history. 

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death. 

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra. 

In fact, he became The Associate. 

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse. 

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast. 

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols. 

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it. 

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid. 

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life. 

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time." 

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin. 

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect. 

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob. 

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

#yes another mafia AU #in this one Hob is still canon immortal and Dream is still King of Dreams and Nightmares #fishbowl rescue fic #Dreamling #Pavonis writes

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

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