#Their name is Clyde (the one with nothing on) and the other one is named Mathew (The one with the crack in his teeth and the bow tie)

[girlygguk]

crazy; jjk (m)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), cum eating, dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has a birth control implant, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively dependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the implant your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 1% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

END.

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

[winged-self-indulgence]

Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.   

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

.

.

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I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.     

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

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If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

[shanastoryteller]

Meg is the first choice, of course, but she’s not suited to this type of long term mission and they all know it. The problem is, almost none of them are. The nature of the beast, she supposes.

That’s why it ends up being her, in the end. Well, it’s almost Ruby, but there’s one thing she has that Ruby doesn’t.

How she ended up here in the first place.

She thought Clyde loved her. She thought he’d take her away, from her father and her terrible life, and so when he died too young, before he could fulfill any of his promises, she’d sold her soul to bring him back.

But he hadn’t kept a single promise. She’d died in her father’s house.

“You remember being in love, don’t you?” he asks, cruel in his callousness, which is different than his other types of cruelty. It’s all he has, shining out in a thousand different ways. “You’ll be better at faking it.”

All she does is fake it.

“Yes,” she says.

This mission gets her topside. It’s worth it for that alone.

~

She slips into a pretty blonde named Rebecca first but by the end of the day, the girl’s screaming has given her a headache, and she slips right back out. She’ll probably just think she had a bad trip.

He’d offered to arrange something for her, but she wanted to pick herself, and she’s not interested in having someone crying and moaning in the back of her mind. But it’s not like there are a lot of options.

She could kill one, of course. But she’s never – she hasn’t been topside, before. Everything she’s killed before had already been dead. So she hovers for the next week, looking for some sort of opportunity, for something she can use that’s not going to scream at her.

The day before she’s going to have to either pick someone or risk being sent back, there’s a car accident.

The girl’s heart is still and her body’s warm, blood pooling down her head, but that’s nothing she can’t fix. She settles into the body, jumpstarting the heart and can feel the skin on her head knitting back together. It’s also blessedly, thankfully silent, with her the only one inside this body. The driver who hit her is dead and people are crowding in, a crying girl pulling her free. “Anne! Anne, are you okay, oh my god, I can’t believe that happened-”

She wrinkles her nose before smoothing out her expression.

The name will have to go. She’ll say she’s reinventing herself after tragedy, or something, but she’s not going to walk around responding to Anne. That’s not her name.

Anne’s a sophomore, which isn’t ideal, but she’s beautiful and doesn’t have that many friends and barely talks to her family, so she’s actually perfect.

She’s also blonde.

She’d been blonde before too.

~

All the demons who had run these sort of missions before give her advice, tell her things that will help her. Some of their assignments had lasted months, but no one’s tried to do it for as long as she’s supposed to.

He likes smart girls.

Be confident. Be flirty. He’s shyer than he looks.

He never had a mother. He likes it when girls take care of him.

He likes to take care of girls too. He wants to feel useful.

She’d had dreams, before, of all the ways she’d could escape her father. It wasn’t common for girls to get more than a basic education, but she’d been smart. She could read and do complicated sums and enjoyed the quiet evenings when she balanced her father’s books. She’d thought she might like an advanced education, thought it could get her out of her life, but hadn’t known how to manage it.

Clyde had seemed easier. More attainable. More realistic.

She’d sold her soul for nothing in the end. She hadn’t even got the full ten years of her bargain.

She doesn’t know how much of their advice she can take.

She can be smart, but considering the school they’re at, all the girls will be smart. She hadn’t been confident or flirty, which is maybe why she’d latched onto the first boy who smiled at her. She never had a mother herself and doesn’t know to act like one.

She’s never been taken care of and doesn’t know how to do that either.

There’s no way for her to do this. She’s going to be replaced and sent back below and he’ll be angry at her and she hates hates hates when he’s angry at her, what he does to her.

“Are you okay?”

She looks up, something cold on her tongue, but falters.

He’s standing there, warm hazel eyes and long dark hair, hunching to try and make himself smaller, and a smile on his face that does nothing to hide his concern.

“Do you ever feel like,” she starts, her dead stolen heart beating too quickly, “everything is falling apart around you and you have no idea what you’re doing and like maybe your whole life is one huge mistake?”

Well, fuck. She’s definitely being replaced now.

Except Azazel’s favorite throws back his head and laughs, smile stretching into a grin. “Every day of my life, more or less.”

“How do you deal with it?” she asks, scrubbing a hand over her face.

He shrugs. “Well, my brother would say women and liquor.” He seems to realize how that sounds a moment later and he pales, “Um, not that I’m – I’m not saying, I wasn’t trying to. He’s just sort of a cad, and – I wasn’t trying to, with you, uh.”

She feels herself softening in spite of herself. “So you’re not one to apply that method yourself?”

“No,” he says firmly, eyes wide. “God, I’m just – I’m sorry. I – I’m Sam.”

“Hi Sam,” she returns, with a smile she doesn’t have to fake. “I’m Jess.”

~

She’s not supposed to fall in love with him.

She’s to worm his way to his side. She’s to keep him from running back to his family, to keep him from rebuilding the bridges he’s burned. She’s to keep him distracted and focused on her until his powers activate and then she’s to guide him into using them, to be supportive and loving and to push him straight into Azazel’s arms.

Sam loves his family so much.

He talks of his brother all the time. His father less, the emotions there more tangled, but love no less fierce.

She nudges him away from it, talks to him about how it’s normal for families to grow apart, to say that they’ll understand when he graduates, that he’ll show them they type of man that he is.

By the time he graduates, his powers will start manifesting, and he’ll avoid his family without her prodding. He knows what they’ll think of him, then, and Jess tells herself that she’s helping him. That this is for Sam’s own good.

If he’s with her, then he’s safe. His father won’t kill him while he’s safe at school. He can’t kill Sam for powers that he’ll never know about.

It’s easy to dig into the anger for his father, to use his last words to Sam as a way to hold him at her side. His brother is more difficult. Jess doesn’t do much with that, in the end, tells herself that it would be too complicated, too suspicious, and as long Dean is sticking with their father it amounts to same thing anyway.

The truth is more complicated.

His father will kill Sam if he has to.

She doesn’t think that his brother will. She thinks that maybe he’d choose to protect Sam, over their father’s wishes, over everything he’d been taught, no matter the consequences.

She fears that she and Dean have a lot in common.

She invites Sam over for holidays, makes summer plans with him, holds as much of his attention as she can manage.

She studies and makes friends and laughs and spends so much time with him, but not all of it. It has to be believable after all, has to be constant, in a way that it didn’t have to be with all the other demons sent to take care of him.

Jess lives a life that had been denied to her and tries to do what she was sent to do and does the one thing she was definitely not supposed to do, which is fall in love with Sam Winchester.

~

His brother shows up in their apartment and she knows that she’s going to lose him.

Sam tries to act angry, but she knows him too well. He’s moving around his brother like a flower following the sun and she asks him not to go, tries to find the words to keep him here, but they all get caught in her throat. If she begged, if she threw a fit, if she demanded it of him, he would stay. He’d tell his brother he’s sorry but he’d stay with her and not help him and burn their relationship for good. He loves her enough to do that for her. She knows it.

She loves him enough not to make him.

He kisses her and she knows it’ll be the last time. He doesn’t.

“What did that take, five minutes?” Azazel is right there, breath on the back of her neck, and his anger fury rage pressing down on her even closer. “Over three years at his side and you lost him in five minutes. What a waste.”

“I kept him for over three years,” she says, tries to keep her voice steady, but knows she fails.

She had him for over three years.

“Not good enough,” he whispers, lips on the shell of her ear. “Guess I’ll have to send Meg in after all.”

Pain erupts hot across her stomach and her screams mix with his laughter.

~

Love always burns her in the end.

[show-your-fangs]

I could request the double life of the reader, one as an agent and the other as a camgirl. Hotchner is a follower but they won't realize it until they travel on a case to an area where it's hot and they see a familiar brand.

By the way, I love your writing. 💖😊

anon i love you. take my hand in marriage RIGHT NOW.

It's You | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner

introducing--

The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part One

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl f!Reader

Words: 3k

CW: mutual masturbation, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play.

Tags/warnings: master!hotch, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl), perv!hotch, mutual masturbation, hotch being a little mean.

a/n: yes, oh god yes will this become something I can already taste it. catch me writing another insanely long D/s series about these two because I AM IN LOVE.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

The first time that he noticed a similarity he thought he’d officially lost his mind. 

Maybe the sleep deprivation, insurmountable amounts of stress he was under, and the fact that he had yet to have his morning coffee were all working in tandem against him. 

It had been a complete accident. You’d been walking towards your desk in the morning, in a foul mood and you didn’t care who saw it. You’d set your bag down on the wooden counter but accidentally miscalculated how close you were to it and slammed your foot into the metal leg that separated them.

A yelp escaped your lips, high pitched, painful, sexual. His ears had perked up immediately, his brows scrunching together as he tried to remember where he’d heard that sound before. Realization struck him like a truck running him against a brick wall. 

No, there was no way, his brain was being absurd, he was being absurd.   

The day wrapped him up in a tornado of meetings and he’d almost forgotten about the incident earlier in the day, but then he received a notification late at night, after he’d returned home from a long day at the office. She was online, his favorite, perfect girl. 

Aaron had never been one for porn, never really saw the appeal of overly produced, almost veering on fake sexual content. He’d met his wife in high school, he was never in need of searching for something that he already had. 

But after Haley passed away and he became increasingly frustrated with the idea of having to put himself out there and date someone else to get the intimacy that he desired, he’d bitten the bullet and signed up for one of the many sites that Morgan had not so subtly been recommending for the past few months. 

To think that his colleague could tell he was so sexually frustrated to the point that he’d began dropping hints about it had made him more embarrassed than signing up for the site. 

The first few times that he used the site were…interesting. Getting past that wall of righteousness he’d put up around himself was difficult. He wanted, no, needed release, craved it in a way he’d never felt before. 

He’d go from stream to stream, curious, trying to keep an open mind. But nothing really spoke to him, nothing really made him excited to engage, to stay longer than a few minutes, to touch himself. 

And then he’d found her, bouncingbunny1, or Bunny as she went by for the customers that paid enough to be in her inner circle. 

She was beautiful in that girl next door who was secretly naughty way that he hadn’t realized he was so attracted to. Always clad in delicate pink lingerie, never showing her face, even when he’d finally gotten over his fear and paid for a private session.

It was easy to fantasize, easy to let himself go and allow the soft cadence of her voice, the filthy sounds of her moans as she touched herself for his pleasure and his pleasure only, making him come undone in minutes. 

He’d learned something dangerous about himself then, a desperate need to dominate, to control, to have power over someone in such an intimate way. Watching this delicate woman come undone by his orders, his commands, his instructions on how he wanted her to pleasure herself was more satisfying than anything he’d experienced before.

Now, months later, he could confidently accept that this had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Sure, he spent as much money on her as he did on rent every month, but it was honestly worth it. He had an insurmountable amount of access, she’d told him as much on their nightly conversations. 

It wasn’t just about release anymore. He found himself talking to her, texting and calling, whenever she was online and he needed her. There had been a few instances where they’d closed a particularly tough case and all he needed was to hear her voice, but she was unavailable. 

But she made up for it with messages filled with those silly kissing face emojis, telling him that she’d make it up to him later that night. And he never questioned it, never even found it odd that sometimes those moments happened to coincide with them being stuck on the jet or pulling a late night of paperwork at the office. 

He had no reason to think anything of it, no reason to ever even begin to think of the possibility that it was you…that it could ever be you on the other side of his screen. You, his subordinate, his teammate, his friend who he adored and cherished and thanked the universe every day for your patience, kindness, love.

Even with the slightest possibility, the smallest sliver that it could be you—

user1102: Bunny.

bouncingbunny1: hiiiiii Master 🤭🥰🩷💖😚

user1102: Can we play?

Bouncingbunny1: yes sir

He smirked to himself, immediately calling. He never showed his face or his body. The only indication that he was real was through what he allowed you to hear. That was another thing that he’d noticed about himself, how deep and sharp his voice could get when he allowed himself to be free. 

You answered the call immediately. You knew he didn’t like to be kept waiting and you couldn’t contain your excitement every time he called you. He was the only reason you were still doing this, even after finishing college (debt free), after getting through the academy and getting the job you’d been desperately working towards all your adult life – he had come in and kept you wrapped up in his orbit. 

You’d started working at the BAU almost a year ago. They were down an agent and you’d been brought in to train for the position. The transition had been stressful, something that you were accounting for but not to this degree. 

You had taken a break from camming in preparation for the adjustment period, taking your time to see if you would even want to return to it or if it was a closed chapter in your book. 

But you’d returned home one night after a particularly grueling case, with so much pent up energy, so much bratty energy that the only way that you knew how to get it out in a healthy way was to put on a show. 

You’d spent the next few hours with your bluetooth vibrator inside you, a pretty baby blue lingerie set over it, cumming over and over and over and over again as the people watching paid to make the device go faster and faster and faster.

That’s when you first met him, user1102. After the first hour was up and you were practically hanging on to your couch for dear life, he’d told you he’d pay five hundred dollars if you took a break, if you drank a full glass of water for him on camera to show him you were taking care of yourself. 

And so you did, everyone else in the chat respecting the decision, albeit annoying as it was, since they all understood that money spoke volumes and they were not in the market to try and outbid whoever he was.

You didn’t recognize him from your usual clients which meant that this was the first time he was seeing you, and what a night to start indeed. He kept coming back after that, every time that you were able to find the time or needed to find release, to clear your mind of the day’s events. 

He was always a big tipper, an even bigger flirt, always made sure to send public and private messages while you played live, always said hello and goodbye. 

You’d squealed loudly when he finally requested a private session and made sure you looked extra good for him. He was perfect, even if you had no idea what he looked like, and these sessions became more and more frequent to the point that you’d almost stopped performing for other people.  

You were sitting in front of your couch on the cold wood floor, a fluffy towel under you. He could see a few toys off camera and a large water bottle that he’d gotten you next to them, clearly just in frame for him.

“Hi bunny,” he groaned, his hand already wrapped around his cock. 

“Hi Master,” you whimpered, already feeling spacey and out of it. It was always like this with him, easy to slip, to submit, to simply allow your brain to think about following his instructions. 

“Someone’s eager,” he mocked and you immediately knew what he was talking about. It was crazy to think that you were so attuned to him, to where his mind was. It filled you with warmth every time that you could anticipate his thoughts, his needs, his desires. 

“Prepared,” you whined, offended. “I always make a mess when we play and I’m tired of having to mop my floor.”

He chuckled, hand tightening around himself. He never had to work to get hard when he spoke with you, the mere thought of getting to play, as you liked to call it, enough to get him going. 

That’s when he noticed it, a small band aid on the side of your foot. 

“What happened to your foot, sweet girl?” he asked, his heart beating uncomfortably fast, blood practically shooting up to his ears and his cock. 

“Oh…” you started, a little afraid that he’d punish you for not being careful. “I bumped it against a chair today.”

He came harder than he’d ever had that night just by the mere thought that you were the one letting out those addicting noises, that you were the one coming undone because of him, that you were the one writhing, shaking, panting, so completely at his mercy that you’d quite literally do anything for him. 

You were in god awful, swampy Florida. The summer sun was unforgiving, the cozy, long sleeve you had chosen for what you believed would be a long day at the office doing paperwork was definitely the worst clothing choice as the humidity practically clung to your body. 

You wanted to scream, wanted to punch something, wanted to take it off and not worry about flaunting your practically naked breasts to everyone around you. Anything to get rid of the burning heat that trapped your body. 

You were practically a walking puddle when you made it back to the station, practically bolting to the bathroom in a cloud of smoke. Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle, he’d been teasing you about it all afternoon, especially after he’d urged you to change and you had refused because you were sure you’d be staying inside with Reid in the comfort of the air conditioned building.

Aaron couldn’t help but notice your mood. You weren’t normally this grumpy. You were usually the one making sure he stopped frowning. He gave you a moment and then followed behind swiftly. 

You stepped into the women’s bathroom and immediately pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aggressively over the sink. You stood there, heaving, allowing the cold air to seep into your body, to have it calm you down, ground you. 

Aaron was about to knock when he saw the door slightly ajar and he immediately stilled, his eyes landing on your topless body. It was too similar, you were too similar, his brain now desperately trying to find similarities between you and her. 

You were wearing a cupless white lace bra, one that he could’ve sworn he’d bought you only a few days prior. You hadn’t worn it yet, at least not to his knowledge, which meant you must’ve just gotten it in the mail. 

It was overwhelming to say the least. He couldn’t continue going on like this. He needed to know. 

He pulled out his phone, discreetly lingering outside of the women’s bathroom, always glancing around to make sure no one could see him. 

user1102: Bunny, I need you.

The second his thumb pressed send his gaze shot up to you once more, waiting to see your reaction. As much as his Bunny would sometimes tell him that she couldn’t play right that second, she’d always, without fail, answer his messages within seconds. 

He could see your attention shift from the mirror in front of you to your phone for a second as you slid your new shirt over yourself. His gaze sharpened, his cock twitched in anticipation, his breathing hitched. 

But instead you pressed one key and brought the device up to your ear, your soft, steady voice muffled by the distance between you. He sighed deeply, in defeat as he looked back down at his phone, his message unanswered. 

“Are you okay?” he almost jerked back as he heard you address him, concern lacing your voice. You were right beside him then, those round, doe eyes of yours that he loved so much wide and worried. 

He could simply nod, enough to satisfy you and yet not give you even an ounce of understanding into what was really going on. 

You all made it to the hotel later that night. He had quickly checked you all in since you were all about to drop. It had been a very long day to say the least and all you really wanted was to take an ice cold shower and go to sleep. 

“Alright,” he addressed the group. “Rossi, room 702, Reid and Morgan, room 705, JJ, room 806, Emily and–” his eyes met yours and he immediately lost his train of thought for a second before he handed the key cards to the raven haired woman beside you. “Room 807.”

He stepped back. “I’ll be down in room 604 if anyone needs anything. Back at the lobby at seven.”

With that you all shuffled towards the elevators, like a horde of zombies. You had been true to your word, practically cold plunging yourself in the shower and proceeding to put on some shorts and a baggy t-shirt to sleep in. 

Emily took the shower after you were done, your plan being to throw yourself on the bed and pass out immediately. But as luck would have it, your stomach practically screamed at you to feed it. 

You sighed deeply, crossing the room to see if room service was still open at the late hour only to realize it had just closed. You groaned in annoyance, the brat peeking through, your body starting to crave a different type of relief. 

Luckily there was a vending machine down on the sixth floor, so that’s where you found yourself, irritatingly making the trek down. The elevator doors opened directly into the hall with the vending machine and you practically came face to face with an equally tired Aaron, clad in his own gray shirt and loose pajama pants. 

You bit down on your lip, approaching him slowly. He saw you the second the elevator doors opened and it made him angry that he just knew it was you. There was something so specific about the air whenever you were around, it always felt lighter, smelled sweeter. 

“Hungry?” he asked as you approached and you nodded. 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you replied and he leaned down to pick up the prepackaged sandwich he’d just gotten for himself. 

Your hand wrapped itself around the almost phallic, plastic wrapped item, his gaze slowly falling down your body until it landed on your chest. To say he visibly tensed up was an understatement. 

You frowned immediately, stepping forward, into his personal space, your own eyes searching for his but they were glued to your shirt. You looked down at yourself, concerned that maybe there was something on it that had offended him. It was rowdy, but nothing to write home about which only confused you further. 

“My college friends used to be in a band,” you explained, trying to lighten the mood. “They made like three of these shirts,” you laughed, clearly remembering fond memories. “Anyway, it’s silly and stupid, I know, but I still have it.”

He knew, he knew all of that, because he’d once called her– you while you were still in your pajamas, wearing that very specific shirt. You’d told him that same story, with a few more details of course, but still.

There was no denying it now, no way to twist the truth, no way to unknow what he now knew for certain.

His own hand pulled on the sandwich and your frown only deepened, as if the gesture itself had cut you so deep, had broken your heart so painfully. 

“It’s…uh– option three, sorry, I have to…” he was down the hall in record time, his heart pounding, his cock practically rock hard against his abdomen. He needed to calm down, needed to take a minute to compose himself, needed to get back to grab his phone so that he could—

user1102: Come to my room. 

The message confused you even more than Aaron just had. You were in no mood to deal with anyone, even the man you had made you feel more alive than you had in years. That’s when you noticed you hadn’t replied to him earlier, but whatever guilt you were feeling quickly washed away as anger settled in.

Who the fuck did they both think they were?

bouncingbunny1: ???

user1102: 604

The color drained from your face in an instant. No, it couldn’t be. There was no way, your brain was being absurd, you were being absurd. 

user1102: Now, bunny.

You gulped loudly, shaky legs somehow managing to lift carry down the hall. The bright light of the hallways almost sobering you up. Were you seriously about to do this?

At worst you walked over to his door, knocked and he stared at you confused and you’d just have to live with the embarrassment of coming up with a lie. At best…at best he opened the door and dragged you into his room, pressed his lips to yours, and finally gave you the satisfaction of fucking ruining you like you’d wanted your boss and user1102 to do for so long. 

You didn’t even get to lift your hand to knock on the door before it swung open aggressively and he stepped into your personal space, his tall, broad frame towering over you. 

“Oh, bunny,” he hummed. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to go looking for the big bad wolf?”

“No, Master.”

this was TOO SATISFYING TO WRITE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. it was crazy to go from soft boy mr. hotchner to just...insanity and power and control and i love how this turned out.

y'all better fucking FLOOD my inbox with asks for them.

tags: @xladyxdreamer, @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

The Silver Lining

(A/N- Ah yes, Donna, I love her so much)

RL! Donna Beneviento x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Swearing, smut, grinding, and of course face sitting)

When people think of memorable duos, some people think of Bonnie and Clyde or Sherlock and Watson but the first thing you think of is you and Donna. The friendship y’all formed is an unbreakable bond that no one can take away. The both of you are so lucky to have each other, no matter what you or her are struggling with, the other is always there to support and help every step of the way.

It was one of those times again, one of those days when you needed her. You look at your phone in shock when you read the short text message your partner had sent. They broke up with you, not only that but to make matters worse they confessed to cheating on you with one of your friends. You were so confused and lost, the first thing you thought to do was to call your best friend, Donna Beneviento.

With tears dwelling in your eyes and threatening to spill out you dial her number. She surprisingly answered quickly, the shop must be slower than usual today. “Hello?” Donna’s soft voice greeted your ears.

“Hey Donna, could you please come over to my house, something happened and I really need you here.”

Donna's eyes widened when she heard your voice crack just like when you’re crying. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” she frantically questioned, her voice slightly raised out of panic and confusion. She can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.

“No no, I’m okay, physically at least.” You admitted, feeling a little selfish for dragging her out of her work just for your comfort.

“Hm I’ll be right there, stay put dear.”

The beeping sound of the hung up phone went on as the last word Donna spoke ran around your head. Dear? She would always call you pet names, nothing unusual for you two but for some reason the sweet name warmed you up inside. It was a strange feeling.

*Knock knock knock knock*

A familiar knocking sound banged on your door; you already knew it was Donna. You got up to let her in and there you saw Donna’s worried expression plastered on her face. “Come in.”

You lead her to your bedroom since that’s where you both usually hang out together and plus it just felt right at this moment. Taking a seat on the bed, she sits next to you as you explain the whole situation. Donna can feel her blood boil with anger and disgust, “Those fucking bitches, how could they?” She muttered under her breath. She never did like your partner but this made her dislike for them turn into a deep hatred.

Although underneath all that hatred, she felt kinda glad. Glad that you’re finally free now, Donna has always had a huge crush on you, it was obvious to everyone except you, but when you first started dating your partner she was hurt. You were the one that got away, at least she thought, but now she still has a chance.

Donna takes a deep breath before speaking, calming her nerves down. “Don’t waste your energy on dumb bitches like that, they don’t deserve you. You deserve someone better.” She tells you with certainty before her voice drops to a whisper, “Someone like me.”

Your tearful eyes widened at those last words, looking at her to see if she really meant it, but she was avoiding eye contact and her face turned red with embarrassment. “Do you really mean it? Like for real?” You questioned softly.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Donna finally developed the courage to confess, “Yes, I do. I’ve had a small..crush..on you for a long time. I was just afraid to tell you.” Her face somehow managed to get even redder.

“Why..do you like me like that? What is it about me?” Asking in disbelief, Donna is your best friend and you never expected her to have feelings for you out of all people. Honestly you didn’t know how to feel, different emotions are coming at you left and right, it’s natural to be confused like this.

“Well..first off, your stunning personality and smile lights up my world. It makes my entire day, really. Not to mention your looks.” Donna admitted, fidgeting with her hands, not knowing what to do with them, in which you suddenly take her hand in your own. Leaning forward to kiss her, you’re not sure what you’re doing but you just let your body take control.

To your surprise, she kissed back, you would think that Donna would just be standing there frozen due to shyness though that’s not the case right now. She places one hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it felt like minutes until she pulled away. “S-sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She breathed out, and you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your lips to hers. This time instead of a soft kiss, it was a much deeper one. Donna was surprised that you took the initiative though she definitely wasn’t complaining. Although, she pulled away again, but this time not out of uncertainty.

“Let me take good care of you, tesoro, way better than they ever could.” Donna confidently said, also asking for consent to continue on further with what will soon to be the best experience of your life.

You gave her a small sound of approval and Donna placed her hand on the side of your face, her thumb almost touching your lips. “No tesoro, I wanna hear you say it.” She smirked at your expression. You never saw Donna act this way before but goddamn she looked so fine right now.

“Take good care of me, I want you right now Donna.” You said seductively, making her blush deeper across her cheeks while she carefully pulled you onto her lap.

“That’s all you needed to say.” Her words made your heart warm, who knew Donna could be so bold. She placed a soft kiss on your lips, letting it linger there while she littered kisses down your neck, nipping at it a little. The increasing anticipation made you want more, you couldn’t help but grind your clothed core on her lap.

Donna's lips stayed on your neck, her hands grabbing your hips to move you a little to the side, positioning your core on her thigh. With her hands resting on your hips you continued your movements, grinding and grinding, sending friction to your clit, ripping a small moan out of you.

“Damn- that feels good. So good.” You moan out quietly, praising Donna’s actions. The praise sent shivers down her spine and made her heartbeat increase. She always adored every compliment you would give her.

“Mm I can’t wait to taste you. Especially that sweetness I know you’ll produce.” She tugs on the hem of your bottoms, prompting you to lift up and swiftly take off everything from your waist down.

She lays herself down on the bed, patiently waiting. You climbed on top of her and straddled yourself onto her stomach, “Are you sure about this?”

Donna smiled at your thoughtful question, “I’m positive.” She said encouragingly, putting your doubts at ease. You move up with knees on either side of Donna’s head, you can see her smile before she takes her hands and makes you sit down all the way. Before you knew it she was already getting to work.

Your hands tangled in her hair as you started to experience waves of pleasure. Donna’s hands grabbed your thighs, forcing you to stay still when you began to squirm. You gave her a pleading look in hopes that she’ll have mercy and let you grind on her face. In response she smiled in your cunt.

“Just let me do all the work darling.” She mumbles the almost inaudible words against your clit, shooting vibrations to the sensitive nerve. The action made your back arch and your stomach getting an unfamiliar sensation. Donna knew you were getting close so she quickened her skilled movements.

The pleasure you felt was almost unbearable; a few tears slipped from your eyes out of utter pure pleasure as your climax hit you full force. Donna’s movements slowed and rubbed small circles in your hips as your muscles relaxed. Once you caught your breath you moved off her, thighs still trembling. Donna sits up and gestures to you to sit next to her.

“Damn I didn’t know you had all that in you.” You teased, making her blush and look away bashfully.

“Mm yeah, let’s rest up I know you need it.” Donna retorted while also changing the subject; you laid down while she kicked off her shoes and took off her gloves. She settled down next to you as you snuggled up closer to her, whispering a small thank you.

“No need to thank me, I won’t let anyone, especially those bastards, break your heart again, I promise.”

Masterlist

[rowretro]

𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐔𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘

✧warnings: illegal activities, robbing a back, guns, blood, bomb blasts.

♡synopsis: Y/n and Nishimura Riki, are quite like Bonnie and Clyde, partners in crime with morals. The 2 are the youngest in Heeseung's gang, and had been assigned to rob a rather rich, immoral man's bank. Robbing the black money that he had robbed the country of, exposing his true colours. (Clearly inspired by Thunivu.)

✧♡✧♡𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝖀𝕿𝕾 𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝕷𝕺𝕽𝖄♡✧♡✧

Y/n smirked as Riki's gun pointed the air, bullets shoot at absolutely nothing as the bank workers and those who visited, cowered, finding safety where they could, all laying low. "THIS FUCKING HIEST IS MINE." Riki simply screamed as He chucked a gun at y/n who caught it, the girl immediately got to work, threatening the people, as she took their phones, purses etc.

"If you don't want to be harmed during this heists I advise you all lay low, let me take what I need and then I'll let you free." Riki simply advised as he played some music. Y/n checked all the restrooms and other areas, making sure no one was hiding before sitting on one of the desks, preventing any bankers from pressing the emergency red button.

"You guys... so fucking selfish, you think you'll be free with all the money you take from us?! of course you will you're kids after all." a 40 year old man complained as Riki and y/n turned to each other, the 2 bursting out into laughter. "Ah of course, you'd believe we're going to take the money and blow it on something useless?" The male asked as he turned to y/n. "You see sir... you'll see where this money'll go." she simply said as she pressed the big red emergency button herself.

Within minutes, police cars surrounded the bank building, as they remain cautious. There were bombs on the doors, heck they could even see that some bank workers were tied by the window, with bomb vests. "I take back what I said sir... please take this vest off of me!" the 40 year old begged as Riki snickerred. He pat the man's back with his gun "If you behave, I'll consider freeing you ".

All the while, y/n sat by the phone waiting on a call. "Wow these cops are really slow huh... So entitled they want us to call them instead. alright fine- we'll let them have it their way." she shrugged, dialling the number. "Hello? is this the police station?! there seems to be a heist taking place in XXX bank." The girl said, waiting upon a reply "What you don't think a woman can rob a bank? it's no wonder so many crimes happen in this country." She added, sounding a little annoyed.

Riki took the phone from her hold as she frowned at him, the male simply placed a soft kiss on her lips as he placed the phone by his ear. The police on the other line were just not having it. "Us robbing a bank? You see sir we aren't robbing the bank. we're simply taking back the amount this bank robbed from us." Riki said as the police officer was in disbelief. "All your doubts will be cleared.... can you put officer Jungwon on the line?" Riki said with an innocent smile.

Officer Jungwon, the said, innocent, brand new cop on the team, he was just a PC, the fear in his eyes evident as the Inspector glared at him handing the phone to him. "Officer Yang, we invite you through the backdoor to the bank. but.... you must bring 4 people..." Riki added as y/n nodded, hacking into as many news channels as possible, smirking as her eyes land on a certain news reporter. "Reporter Park" She simply said as Riki nodded.

"4 people. The bank owner. His father. The Manager and of course Reporter Park. The charming reporter with multiple cameras, trying to get the juicy drama, while charming a bunch of girls? his name card says Park Sunghoon? yeah that one." he described hanging up. The police new they were messing with the wrong gang, anyone knew Riki's voice. No one dared to mess with the Nishimura Riki, the only known gang mate in the ENHYPEN gang.

When the 4 were allowed in, Sunghoon set up the cameras as y/n tied the 3 men to 3 chairs, handing Jungwon a bat. Riki stood behind the camera with y/n. His focus on the people within the bank. "See here fellow bank workers and visitors... you're going to find out the real truth behind where your money, and my money went." Riki simply said as y/n shrugged, handing a contract to the three.

"what is this?!" The bank owner, Yeonjun asked as y/n smiled "It's simply a contract, a contract you will sign in front of this camera to allow us to interview you live~" the girl said, as Yeonjun signed it, not bothering to read it, he passed it onto his father, Mr Choi, the the Manager, Choi Soobin. After signing the contract, y/n took a seat. "Reporter Park, this is live right?" she asked as Sunghoon nodded.

With Jungwon in the back holding a bat, and Y/n sat right opposite the three men. "First question. Choi Yeonjun, the owner of this beautiful bank. Mind telling me how much you stole from us all together?" y/n asked as the man smiled at the camera "See darling I don't see what you're talking about... Why would I steal money when I'm already rich." He asked as y/n tutted "Officer Yang... if someone stole 100 million from your hard earned money, how would you feel?..." y/n asked.

"I'd break his hands for touching my money..." he answerred as the girl nodded. "Okay... well lets tone it down just a little, you may use the bat to hit Yeonjun everytime he lies." "WHAT? HIT ME??? SINCE WHEN WAS THAT ALLOWED?!" he asked as Riki chuckled. "In the contract Owner Choi." "What the fuck- but- the writting is so small i could barely read it!" he complained as Riki shrugged "It's the same font you used in your contracts." he simply said.

Jungwon started beating the man with the bat, as Riki then told him to stop. "This is ridiculous. I will not let you abuse my son like this!" Mr Choi complained as y/n nodded. "Okay sir then why don't you answer us? where did you store all the money you stole???" She asked as the man glared at her "I'm telling you we didn't steal any money!" The man lied as Soobin, the manager interrupted them. "Sir just tell them where the 500 million is or they...." Soobin stopped mid sentence noticing the Chois glare at him.

"500 million?.... wow you hear that world? XXX bank stole 500, million fucking dollars. Only 100 million from the infamous gang you all know... then that 400 million?... why don't I answer that for you?..." Y/n said, glaring at Yeonjun. "You stole that hard-earned money from all those civillians who worked their blood, sweat and tears, for that money, to pay off bills, school fees, hospital fucking bills. The so-called black money is actually red money. you have way more fucking blood on your hands than any gang ever had." She seethed.

The news airing abruptly came to an end, when Yeonjun managed to break out and stab a few wires, he immediately kicked y/n in the stomach, grabbing her by her hair and smashing her face into a glass table. However, Riki was quick to act, pulling her away, and hitting Yeonjun around the head with a gun. The Choi now knocked out called. "You alright princess?" Riki asked, his eyes widening at the little trickles of blood on your face. "M good sweetheart... it was nothing" she reassured as the man kissed her.

"Cork it love birds. only a matter of time before Yeonjun wakes up. Let's just take our 100 million and leave, the heli's here, the police can sort out that lot." Sunghoon said, throwing off the lanyard and unbuttoning the top, revealing the undershirt he wore beneath. "Fucking reporter uniform making me sweat like fuck." he groaned as Jungwon scoffed, throwing the bat aside as he dragged Yeonjun back to his chair, tying him down. "I actually look kinda fire in a cop's uniform to be honest." the man smirked as he followed y/n and Riki.

Y/n smirked, as she bombed the vault open, taking only the amount that the bank owed the gang, placing the money inside the helicopter. Riki dragged her cautiously, as they started to run until they were out of sight, the boys following behind. As they reached a safe spot, Heeseung picked them up. "huh, the police are at the bank now, and they're looking into the case.... and you're making out-" Sunghoon rolled his eyes, as Heeseung honked the car horn, in an attempt to stop them from eating eachothers' faces.

"Fuck it. they won't listen...." Heeseung groaned "they handled that bank issue without a lot of smooching, pet names, hugs, romance and all that bull crap... they'll be out of breath soon-" Sunghoon pointed out as Jungwon covered his ears.

✧♡✧♡𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝖀𝕿𝕾 𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝕷𝕺𝕽𝖄♡✧♡✧

[heartfullofleeches]

Hybrid Cafe Yans

A list of the hybrid yans since it's been a minute-. The first name is their real name and the second is the nicknames reader has given them. The only exclusions are Saber and Wistera who haven't been nicknamed yet, and Doc and Trick who have never been official named

Saber [he/him] - Model/Influencer Catboy who got saved from the ran by Cafe reader on their first shift. Very snobby and feels entitled to most if not all of reader's time being their first customer

Clyde/Spot [he/him] - A lonely delivery rabbit. Shy and Sweet. Bounced around in the foster care system as a child and has severe abandonment issues steaming from it which later on resulted in him dying his fur white to be more appealing to others. His nickname comes from Reader finding a spot on his ear since it had been a while since his last dye job

Shanna/Bo [She/Her] - Reader's sheep girl coworker. Extremely clumsy and timid, but also plays up the act to lean on reader's shoulder. The daughter of a local club owner who is still coming to terms with her recent coming out.

Pauline/Belle [She/Her] - The ex head chef at the cafe. A hot headed cow woman with a soft spot for reader who's what keeps her crawling back to the city from her cozy new life on her farm

Robbie/Honey [They/Them] - A bumble bee who as their name implies is sweet as can be..... on the surface. Robbie is one of if not the most willing to beat others into submission for Reader. Their mother is the head of a massive company who gifted them the entire apartment complex they live in. Later moves Reader into one of them who pays next to nothing for rent

Trick [They/Them] - A tired Crow enjoying early retirement/hiatus from their work. Greatly enjoys relaxing with a cup of tea and gifting reader presents from the various regions they've traveled to over the years. Works as a teacher as a secondary occupation which slowly drains them as it reminds them of the empty nest they have at home

Asher/Prince [he/him] - Hyperactive Hyena boy ready and willing to throw hands for reader. Their kindness helped him get over his fear of humans after years of bullying for having a human father and a shorter stature because of it, and being wrongfully arrested when attacked by bullies and choosing to fight back

Wisteria [She/Her] - Plant woman of unknown origin. Owns a flower shop not too far from the cafe and supplies it with bouquets for their displays which she uses to eavesdrop on reader. Soft spoken and formal

Doc [They/Them] - Leech Hybrid med student. Extremely giggly and carefree. Always tries to give Reader check ups which certainly aren't ploys to obtain vials of their sweet, sweet blood. Has difficults walking on land and wears leg braces for the weak muscles in their legs

Scout/Bear [he/him] - Wolf hybrid. Doesn't like to talk much about himself, but lived with his grandmothers and dogs in the wilderness before they all passed away. Stoic and grouchy, but weak to soft praise and touches

The manager - A deer hybrid mentioned briefly in the Christmas special. Not much to them now, but I'd really like to use them eventually

[schoenpepper]

Teeth (5 Seconds of Summer)

Intro: It's nothing but a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet to you. But Jade will twist the narrative into Bonnie and Clyde, if it means he'll get his hands on the one he loves.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, blood, gore-ish, death (minor charac), bad bad things, criminals, Jade and Floyd are warnings of their own, implied shmexy times, 100% inaccurate interpol description but it was that or the Red Room from marvels idk maybe the kingsman, the fish mafia are verrrrry bad people here ok, but reader doesnt care, betrayal

A/N: Did I fall in love with Jade halfway into writing this? Of course not. I fell in love with Jade a whileeeee ago. Anyway, this is the first installment of my Twisted Harmonies series, a bunch of songfics with different characters and plots and universes.

Masterlist

Some days you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

Aren't you just a darling little thing?

Jade isn't Azul's right hand man for nothing; he sees through your facade all too easily. A little too naive for the sexy outfit you're wearing and a little too innocent for the foxy persona you've put up. The police force had sent lots of undercover agents before. Unfortunately for them, none had been as interesting as you.

He watches you stumble onto the seat next to him. You order a drink and meet his eyes, giving him a charming smile.

Ah.

He understands now.

You weren't sent as a mistake. You were sent because even your superiors saw an overflowing charisma that you yourself didn't seem to notice. They were likely betting on him being drawn to you (and you having better acting skills). They've underestimated him again.

Jade thinks he's too far gone to be a gentleman now, but he chuckles and offers to pay for your pina colada. You accept with a glint in your pretty eyes, and he congratulates himself for picking up a cute little plaything for the next few months. He hears out the alias you have and listens to your cover story with a close-lipped smile. When he leads the conversation to other places, he takes note of when you perk up and start shaking off the person you were forced to be in order to get closer to him. "You like that movie too? That's awesome! I thought I was the only person who knew what it was."

"It's definitely one of my favorite films, but it's not too popular, hm?"

"Right." You pout and huff so adorably, he might just take you where you're sat. He doesn't think you're supposed to like the things you're saying you like, but he enjoys seeing you mess up, if nothing else. "You know," Jade takes a sip of his martini, "I have a copy of it on DVD, if you'd like to come to my place and watch it. Maybe stay for the night...maybe have breakfast in the morning...?" He sees you light up and you seem to finally remember your mission, pushing down the bubbly and energetic rookie and projecting out an image of this mature and seductive force of nature.

It's just too funny.

He drives you to his small villa at the edge of town and he pops the CD into the DVD player. He wasn't lying when he said he liked the movie, and he enjoys hearing your commentary on it because it brings him new insights about the plot as well as you. After the movie, he takes you to his bedroom (like a gentleman 💙) and even cooks you breakfast in the morning. Muffins and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. A part of his attention is on you as you eat breakfast blearily, but most of it is in the file he has on hand while drinking his morning coffee.

[Name: Y/N L/N]

[Status: Recent graduate of the X police academy, honor student]

[Threat level: Unknown]

Jade picks up his pen, looks on as you burn your tongue on your coffee, and jots down a note.

[Threat level: Unknown (near zero, requires further investigation)]

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me, or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

The second time you meet up with your target is on a "date". You'd spent hours in front of the mirror just to look your most "seductive", yet Jade barely even bats an eye. He picks you up from the apartment you were assigned in his swanky, expensive, customized Rolls Royce and drives you both to this upscale 3 Michelin star restaurant in the middle of the city. You feel slightly uncomfortable because of all the haughty uppity-ness of the people in the other tables, but Jade's gloved hand is placed on the small of your back as he walks with you to the table he'd reserved. "Sorry, I'm not too used to places like these." You smile awkwardly at Jade.

And berate yourself internally because you're supposed to be mature and experienced and whatever.

"Nonsense dear, we're not here to keep up appearances." Thankfully, he's always a very nice person (if you ignore him being one of the leaders of possibly the biggest organized crime group in the world). He even pulls your chair out for you and everything. "I just wish for you to have an enjoyable time. Now tell me about the types of dishes you like, and perhaps any allergies?"

"Oh, I don't have any allergies. But I like chicken, and mushrooms!" You grin at him happily.

He pauses at your words, which makes you think that maybe you said something wrong, causing you to bow your head and stare at the French squiggles you just can't understand on the menu you're holding.

"I like mushrooms too."

The smile he gives you is all too blinding. You've always known he was rather pretty, but seeing him smile like this makes you aware of his insane face card. Him liking mushrooms wasn't on the file (even the international police force doesn't have much on the Leech brothers' files, much less Ashengrotto's), but you're glad you have something else to talk to him about. 

"I even grow them myself."

Your jaw drops and you have to stop yourself from barreling over the table and onto him as words just start pouring out of your mouth. "Seriously? That's so cool! Where do you grow them? Did you learn by yourself? Can you teach me? Do you think I can grow some too? Oh, wait!" You clear your throat and lean back on your chair. You're blowing your cover again, you just know it. "I mean, that sounds cool. Apologies for rambling."

Jade laughs and waves you off.

"No, I like that you're so passionate. You've been to my home before, perhaps you'd enjoy going back after dinner? I'll show you my terrariums."

"Awesome!"

You'll remember to keep up your disguise later.

Your waiter comes by with recommendations and wine, and your date is too sweet with how he constantly asks for your opinion. When you show any form of hesitance, he easily helps you out whether it be with ordering your entree or asking for another plate. Conversation flows too naturally with the teal-haired man and dinner leads to checking his terrariums, to staying up too late drinking sips of his stash of red wine while he helps you make a terrarium of your own, to passing out on his bed next to him.

When you wake up the next day, you realize you forgot to probe for information.

Oh well.

You can always see Jade next time.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Everyday, you get more and more delectable.

"Whatcha' watchin', Jade?" Floyd leans over his shoulder to peer at the monitor in front of him. On the screen is you, oh lovely, beautiful, adorable you, in a skin tight suit made of a fabric that clings to your every curve so wonderfully. You do a turn to evade your opponent and land a kick on their abdomen. "Eh? Who's this spiky little pufferfish? New toy o' yours?"

"Not a toy." Even Jade is surprised by the words that leave his lips, but it curls into a sickeningly sweet smile as he continues. "They're cute, aren't they? Feisty."

You send the other person to the edge of the ring with a punch.

"What, so you'll keep 'em?"

When your opponent rushes back to you, you do a series of beautiful and swift movements to bring them down on their knees. Admittedly, the smallest part of him is rather jealous by the way you step on the person's chest to keep them down.

"Absolutely. They'll make a cute pet~"

"Hah, you're so weird." Floyd rolls his eyes and stands back up properly. "The Interpol'll notice your cameras soon, y'know they're not that stupid to keep their own training grounds unchecked."

"That's why I'm recording, of course."

"Freak."

"You wound me, truly."

For what he'd said about keeping you as a pet, he gets annoyingly ticked off at the sight of you helping up your comrade slash sparring partner. The way you laugh so unrestrainedly and smile so freely, in ways you refuse to do in front of him—your mission target—made him narrow his eyes and memorize the face of that friend of yours. Perhaps the frustration bubbling in his chest was only because his pet was rather uncooperative at the moment, still stubbornly holding onto the shredded pieces of your shoddy disguise. With that, he has no chance of seeing your many facets in the way you'd present them to a friend, to someone closer; because he dislikes that alias very much.

(He'll pull the Y/N L/N out of you sooner than later.)

"Whatever, just make sure to clean up or Azul's gonna be pissed."

"Of course."

He watches your figure leave the training ground and the camera's range.

Jade is a capable man who enjoys games.

And what game would be more fun than turning a police dog against its owners?

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"And, open your eyes!"

You fidget with your hands nervously, trying to hide your anxiousness with a proud grin. You glance at the spread you'd poured your time and effort into; a typical red plaid blanket splayed out over the grass under the shade of a large tree, a wicker basket with its contents already laid out on the blanket. Finger sandwiches and little jars of pasta and lemon iced tea and tiny cake slices in glass tupperwares. You look back at Jade who you'd asked to dress more casually today for your (you can't really count anymore at this point) date, wondering if he dislikes your little surprise.

"Um, I know it seems sudden, but I made it all myself." You blush and kneel down on the blanket to grab the utensils. "Because, the button mushrooms you helped me grow, they grew really nice and big so I chopped them up and put them into a bolognese, so I thought maybe you'd like to try my cooking!" You feel so embarrassed because why is Jade still so quiet holy shit, though the shame fades when he tugs you into his arms.

"Jade...?"

"Apologies." He pulls away slightly to kiss your forehead. "I am very touched by the thought. I appreciate your effort, my dear, and I look forward to tasting your cooking."

You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

It had felt like a chore the first few weeks, but touching him, kissing him, loving him is starting to feel good. Natural. Right.

It's not. But it feels right.

"You better, I was up from four a.m., you know?" You let out a grumble when he hums so happily, swaying you in his arms. "So next date, you owe me your cooking too."

"Of course, my dear."

"With no poisonous mushrooms?"

"I don't recall agreeing to that condition."

It's so peaceful when he gives you his commentary on your dishes and gives you advice regarding the iced tea you'd made, and there's such a lovely calmness when you take a nap with him after eating, curled up into each other under the shade, your head on his chest and his legs around your own. Everything else fades away when he helps you pack up your jars and tupperwares into your wicker basket and drives you home.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles with a close-eyed smile.

"Goodbye, my dear. Think of me always."

You close the door in his face so he doesn't see the blush on yours.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

There's filth in the room, he can feel it with every pair of eyes that is shamelessly drinking in the sight of you. A polite curve to the lips, arm wrapped securely around you, he walks into the gala with the feeling of his favorite handgun digging into his thigh. He expects the night to go flawlessly; Azul would never throw an event that would end up in shambles, and your little organization is far too wary of this party being a trap to actually make a move. It doesn't change the bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat when these greasy middle-aged folks that Azul coined as "business partners" stared at you with their tongues lolling out like mutts sniffing a new treat.

Say, would his boss mind if he committed a little bit of homicide?

"Jade?"

Ah, but you look so sweet, looking up at him nervously. You must recognize the ugly faces, yes? Each and every one in the interconnected web of hell that Azul ruled over. "Don't worry darling, they're all friendly." Jade smiles, a genuine one, sweeping a glance over the crowd. "I'll make sure of it for you."

You seem comforted enough by his words, yet you still slink away into his side.

(Don't you know he's one of the most dangerous people here?)

"Azul, Floyd, this is my darling." He feels you freeze up when he introduces you to his brother and friend boss. His fingers run up and down your back in a soothing motion as he watches gears turn in the two's heads. "My love, this is Azul Ashengrotto. He's my superior of sorts. And this is Floyd, my twin brother."

The word 'love' has their eyes widen for just a split second.

Azul reaches out a hand to shake yours. "My, it's a pleasure to meet you. Jade has told us a lot about you." You smile nervously and shake his hand. Before his brother can full on tackle you and likely interrogate you about your relationship status, Jade gently pushes you off to the crowd with a nasty glare behind your back towards the piranhas circling.

"Do socialize for a bit, dear. I have a few things I need to talk about with them." He doesn't mention the bodyguards he'd gestured to keep an eye on you.

"So," Azul crosses his arms, "love, hm?"

Jade lets the polite smile fade from his face as he looks at them, one gloved hand on his chest. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"You said pet!" Floyd huffs, shaking Jade by the arms. "No fair! What's with the secrets, Jaaaaade? You were supposed to tell me everything! When did you get a partner?"

"I wasn't lying, I just started seeing them differently." He consoles his brother with a chuckle.

"And how are you planning to keep it up?"

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, that person's a noobie undercover, right? Ya' can't hold on to some lousy loyal cop." Floyd rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly Jade, that loyalty's no good if it ain't yours."

"I'm sure he's already thought of that."

"But he doesn't seem prepared to let 'em go, though? A pet's fine, but if it's somethin' else, it'll be trouble."

Jade smiles again. "Not a pet anymore, no, but it's not that hard to train a lover either, is it?"

"What, you truly think that cop will fall for you enough that they'll throw away their principles and ideals for you?" Azul scoffs. "Without torture?"

"You think they won't?"

Azul and Floyd share a look then shrug in unison.

"I don't think there's a lot you can't do, to be honest."

"I don't care, long as you get those annoying do-gooders outta my face, capiche?"

Some days you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

It's boring.

God, it's so boring.

If you had known you would be subjecting yourself to petty small talk and the lecherous eyes of sleazy men twice, maybe three times your age, you would've clung on harder to Jade and forced yourself into whatever conversation he'd needed to have with Azul and Floyd. But then again, you don't think you have enough calm to face the Azul Ashengrotto without shaking in your boots (he's rich and evil and super duper powerful!). Floyd you can sort of handle, you do well with violence. Jade you slept with the night you met, so there wasn't all too much about him that still made you nervous. But Azul, that man's smart. You can't deal with wits like that—wits that gave him claws to dig his way out of whatever hellhole he was born in and right to the top of the food chain. He'll blow your cover all too easy.

You shift your champagne to the other hand and nod at your conversation partner.

No you don't get what he's bragging about, and you really don't care. This place is filled to the brim with the very wretches of society, faces you know from the red files you kept at headquarters. They parade around in human skins and even now, not a single person has said anything that even remotely implied ill-gotten wealth or human trafficking or whatever, so you know they're really good at keeping up face.

This one, he's getting a little too handsy.

"I can show you a good time."

You raise your hand to smash the champagne flute into his ugly face (Jade would definitely cover for you).

When did you get so confident?

Two big and bulky men in suits appear out of nowhere—they might be the asshole's bodyguards—but no, they restrain the other man and faster than you can blink, you're alone again with only the echoes of his shouting. You catch Jade's gaze on you from the corner of the room where he's still with Azul and Floyd.

His lips curl up in mischief and he winks.

Looks like your confidence wasn't misplaced, at least.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

"Jade, baby, I think we're lost."

"Nonsense, my pearl. I've been here a million times."

"You should've taken the left at the exit!"

"No, this is a shortcut."

"Jade!"

"Yes, my lovely backseat driver?"

He watches from the corner of his eye as you hold onto your seatbelt for dear life. "Where are we going?! It's not in the map. I swear if you actually get us lost—"

"What will you do?"

You pout at him. "Cry."

"Don't be so dramatic my love, I told you, I've been there before." Jade muses, one hand on the wheel and the other gently patting your thigh. He takes another turn and chuckles. "See? Look at the GPS, we're back on track."

When the Range Rover comes to a stop near a familiar campsite (he was not taking the Rolls Royce into the woods, thank you very much), you immediately hop out of your seat and start to fiddle with the items you'd brought with you. He gets out to help you carry the foldable tent and set it up not too far from the car. "Jade, did you buy new sleeping bags? These weren't the ones we used when we went to the lake." He watches on happily as you figure out there's only one, two-person sleeping bag.

"Wow. Are you cutting corners or are you just that clingy?"

"Whatever do you mean, love?" Jade turns to take out the coats he'd brought along, forcing you into one of them as you whined about its puffiness. Unfortunately, he'd rather not have a frozen lover to roast over the bonfire with the marshmallows. He intertwines your hand with his as you walk side by side on the trail, and he talks to you about safety procedures when hiking ("Do try not to separate, dear.") and protocols ("If you see a bear when I'm not around, say your last prayers." "What if you're around?" "I have a gun if it's really aggressive, don't worry about it." "Why do you have a gun, Jade?") and what kind of mushrooms would be safe to pick without gloves ("In general, if it's colorful, best leave it to me.").

He has such a great time hiking with his cute partner, even if you don't notice his camera taking snapshots every few minutes or so.

With a sack full of mushrooms and other flora, the both of you make your way back to the campsite. He starts on a fire while you set up the foldable chairs and prepare the ingredients for whatever would be dinner. He thinks it should be the mushrooms you had just gathered together, you think it should be something actually edible, and he relents if only because you compromise to add some non-poisonous mushrooms into a stew for dinner. The night ends with your intertwined bodies in the sleeping bag, Jade peppering kisses all over your face as you giggle and try to squirm out of your constraints (the sleeping bag and his arms).

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Jade."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"I know how to shoot a gun."

—Were the words that spiked your competitiveness with your boyfriend. It wasn't your fault, really, but when that frustratingly pretty face got that smug look that just seemed like it was doubting your abilities, you felt the need to prove yourself. You weren't the brightest bulb in the, ugh, in the string of Christmas lights around the pine tree? But! You prided yourself on your ability to fight. Whether that be with a gun or a knife or just with your bare fists, you'd slammed foes several times bigger and stronger than you to the ground by virtue of pure skill. So to hear Jade questioning one of your rare mastered skills (he would probably argue otherwise) made your blood boil.

So. Shooting range.

You know he's experienced with guns, but you're pretty sure a sniper rifle is new even for him. You help him assemble it and get into proper position.

"My, how scandalous, my darling instructor. In broad daylight too?"

You grimace at his words.

"I'm just trying to get you into the right position!"

"Oh? And what position would be to your preference?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I feel like I've asked you the same question before too—"

"Jade, there are people—"

"—Did you say missionary or—"

"Oh my fucking gods."

"—Perhaps you said you preferred riding?"

You glare harshly at your boyfriend who was giving you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen on his cute face (no doubt to spite you), and you look around frantically in search of other people. Thankfully you're alone. But it doesn't stop you from repeatedly (softly) hitting his shoulder while he laughed at your expressions, sharp teeth showing. You poke a finger to the corner of his lips, which he quickly nibbles on. "What are you, a dog?" He pulls away just to lean back in and kiss your lips.

"Arf~"

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Your phone rings in the dead of night. Jade groans and pats you awake to answer, and you console him with a kiss before looking at the contact.

It says 'That Guy'.

Jade murmurs out a question while you hurriedly leave the bed to put on a robe. "I just need to take this call, baby. I'll be right back." You answer the phone out of earshot, leaning against the railing of the balcony. A familiar voice travels through your phone and right to your heart. It stirs memories and realizations you're not quite ready to face again; the biting chill of the wind feels similar to the worry gnawing at you. "Agent L/N."

"...Reporting, sir."

It's still muscle memory, the response and the subconscious salute. 

(Is it still muscle memory to defend yourself against Jade, the way you were taught to?)

"How is your mission?"

You bite back the urge to say 'What mission?'. Ahhh Y/N L/N you're just so stupid, aren't you? First ever mission, your first big responsibility, your first big chance to be someone worth something. You look back at the bedroom and catch a glimpse of Jade's shadow on the bed. You were supposed to worm out information but gods, you've never even tried. It's like every single time he's with you your brain starts to melt into a hot pink sludge. "I'm working on it, sir." You lie because there's nothing else you can do. Where can you run when Jade finds out you were only using him? Where can you run when the Interpol thinks of you as a dead man because they believe you've betrayed them?

Where can you go when everything comes crashing down?

"It's only to be expected, such a man should be awfully guarded even against his own. Keep up the good work and remember to report back when you find anything."

Hah. Jade was barely ever guarded against you, if at all. You could've tapped his electronics at any time or tracked every car he owns. You just...never did. And the realization forces you to redraw your lines. You know exactly where your loyalty lies, don't you? You end the call and look at the lights in the distance; the city is never asleep. It's bursting with neon signs and traffic lights, but the noise doesn't reach the safe haven that's Jade's little villa. Start to make plans. Rethink it all over. You walk back into the bedroom and further, to the guest room you'd never once used but has way too much of your things in. In a suitcase pocket that's invisible to the naked eye, you pick up a packet of tiny buttons.

You hope Jade won't miss you too much in bed when you make a trip to the garage.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

"Happy birthday, Jade!"

"Happy birthday, Floyd."

There's blood in the air, early morning in November. Jade looks up from his newspaper at his brother who was happily dragging a limp body into his pristine living room, sack over its head. "Oh dear, I hope you've called for cleanup. I have a date later today and I would rather not have Y/N turned off the moment I open the front door." He frowns slightly and puts the newspaper down. With careful steps, he approaches the unconscious person and yanks the sack off its face. "Is this your birthday present for me, brother?"

"Yep!"

"Well," Jade smirks, kicking the head awake. "I appreciate the effort."

"Make sure to pay me back, 'kay~?"

"Of course."

The young woman stirs awake, but his eardrums are saved by the duct tape that Floyd had slapped over her mouth. She looked around in a panic and struggled against the ropes binding her wrists and ankles together. "Hello there, Agent Assyra. You're my darling Y/N's favorite sparring partner, aren't you?" Jade whispers softly with a polite smile. A hand gently caresses her hair while she squirms. "I think you'll be good entertainment for me today. Oh, Floyd must have exerted quite a bit of effort bringing you to me, I ought to meet his expectations."

"Damn right." Floyd whines as he collapses on the sofa. "That bitch put up a fucking fight. 'M still sore from her kicking, she just had to do it in stilettos, didn't she?"

"I can imagine. Floyd, pass me the box under the cushion."

Floyd hands him a small box with his favorite set of scalpels inside it. 

"Let's see, it's quite unhygienic to do it in the living room, but I don't plan to let you live too long anyway. I suppose Y/N and I will just have to settle for a hotel room tonight." He hums a merry little tune as he made small incisions in her skin, the blade easily digging through the flesh. "You must have a tracker somewhere in your bloodstream, let's find it, shall we? Oh, I've always wanted to dissect an Interpol agent."

"Why didn't you dissect your Y/N?"

"That's not very funny, Floyd." Jade chuckles. He cuts a line down her arm and watches the blood flow down his rug. "I'll have to remember to buy a new rug. Perhaps Y/N can help me shopping~"

"Bah, you're sooo whipped it's gross."

He makes another line on her leg, gently prodding at the layer of skin and looking for the tracker. "I am a man domesticated."

"Happy birthday—um, Jade...?"

He freezes at the front door being suddenly shoved open with a happy-turned-concerned voice, slowly looking at the person by the door. It's you. In a cute sweater with a big box in your hands, hair sprinkled with snow and eyes wide in horrified shock. "Uh oh." He hears Floyd giggle, and the girl under him moves around more to grab your attention. You look at the girl, then at Jade, then at the cake in your hands. Then at the girl again. "Assyra...?" She nods helplessly. He thinks you might run forward to help your fellow agent (who was clearly on the verge of death from severe bloodloss), but the only thing you do is look at the scalpel in Jade's hand, and back to his eyes. You maintain eye contact while you slowly put down your box and leave as if nothing happened.

"Guess you're single again. Sad."

He ignores his brother's words, running to the box you'd left behind.

Inside is a big cake that he assumes is homemade, half chocolate and half strawberry and whipped cream. It looks decent, and he could feel your efforts in the two-colored icing writing out a message on the top.

'Happy Birthday, Jade! Love you lots :D'

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Another pull of the trigger, another lifeless body falling to a heap on the ground. He looks on expressionlessly as Azul glances at him with a raised eyebrow before continuing to talk to the person whose lackey Jade had just killed.

"As you can see, Jade isn't feeling too patient today, so if you could just—"

He shoots another bullet, just barely grazing the man's ear before it enters the wall.

"Okay! I agree, I agree, forty percent, yes!" The man nods and signs the contract before scampering away with his (useless) guards. "While I do like a good deal, is there any explanation for your trigger happy behavior?" Azul looks at him in confusion. Floyd takes the offending firearm from his hand and pushes him to sit down on the armrest of Azul's big fancy chair.

"The little cop ghosted him, and he ain't too happy 'bout it." Floyd explains as he puts the gun on the table.

"They were supposed to run back." Jade finally speaks, brows furrowing. "The timing was off, it was an accident they weren't supposed to see. Their conditioning was incomplete and if their higher-ups catch a whiff of their feelings for me, they'll rewire my pearl back to being their little hound. They need to be back to me, and fast."

"Sorry, Jade, maybe I shoulda' brought that bitch in another time."

"It's not your fault." He sighs.

"Then? Why haven't you found them yet?"

Jade looks at Azul. "Have I become predictable? Because the men I've sent off, and the camera footage I've been keeping track of—all of them seem completely avoided. It's like they know my move two steps before I do it."

"Perhaps you've truly met your match."

"Or maybe your pearly's trapped at headquarters." Floyd smirks. "Let's go there! Like a field trip, except with guns and bombs."

"Absolutely not."

"Aww, Azul, you're no fun."

Jade leans back against the chair, looking at his phone lockscreen; a picture of the two of you cupping a mushroom with smiles on your faces. He hovers his thumb above your figure. He unlocks the screen to dial your number again. Like the previous one hundred and fifty two times, it only rings endlessly. Frustrated, Jade stands up, pockets his phone, and picks up his gun again. "Don't you have five more people to meet? Get them in." He snaps at Azul, and the man only pushes his glasses up and shrugs. He clicks a button and the door opens. In comes another greasy, balding, middle-aged loser with some eye candy on his arm, trying to look not so desperate.

Jade aims for his forehead.

"Oh dear, Jade's truly in a bad mood right now, Mr. Sanchez. Let's get this over with quickly before his finger slips." Azul drawls with a smirk, pushing the contract forward.

"Sign here, please."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"Whoop! On your left, Jaaaaade~"

He clicks his tongue and dodges accordingly, a flying metal bat hurtling through the air. The smoke and gasoline is choking, but the smell of blood could barely even make him flinch at this point. He turns to kick an incoming assailant in the gut, effortlessly catching a handgun thrown his way by his twin. "Jade! Grab the sparklies, okay?" Jade sighs and opens the sack, sweeping the mess of jewelry inside it and sealing it shut. Somehow, Floyd's idea of 'letting loose and forgetting cops that ghost you' was robbing a luxury jewelry store, just the two of them. Sibling bonding time, of sorts. While he normally wouldn't mind, he's been feeling all too ill without your presence.

"Oh pearl, when will you come back to me?"

He sighs listlessly. A shot is fired towards another guard before he goes to pick up a string of pearls and wear it around his neck. Everything just reminds him of you.

"Sirens, haha!"

At Floyd's signal, he lugs the sack over one shoulder and runs with his brother to the armored car they'd yanked from Azul. He hops into the driver's seat while throwing the 'sparklies' onto his brother's lap.

They don't get very far before a barricade of police cars force them to stop.

"That's no fun." Floyd pouts.

"Backup?"

"Nah, it's cool. Let's just spend a while in a jail cell, I wanna see Azul pop a vein, hehe~"

He could almost imagine Azul's reaction to them getting arrested. He shares a look with his twin and they hop out the car in unison, hands in the air and weapons thrown to the ground. His eyes widen when he realizes the person walking towards him with handcuffs was you.

"Jade Leech." You say sternly, tugging at his arms and cuffing his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

Someone else takes Floyd in.

You push him to a police car and just before you can walk off, he helplessly whispers to you. Not a cry for help, not a plea, no.

A soft, hopeful, sickly sweet "My love." that makes you stop for one moment. Just one.

Before you continue walking.

He lost the gamble.

And above all else—

He'd lost you.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

Floyd's in a separate cell.

He's flattered, honestly. His own cell is so heavily guarded, cameras and guards everywhere, it makes him feel very important. But it's quite boring, only a bed, a sink, and a shoddily covered toilet. He thinks the clothes look horrendous, and he's patiently awaiting his dear boss who would never leave him nor his brother rotting in a maximum security prison for the rest of their lives. But hours pass by and he's getting rather antsy. How long would it take Azul to bust him out?

The lights go out.

He sinks into his little cot and looks out the tiny window. It's barely even dark and they expect him to go to sleep, somehow.

Who sleeps at 7 in the—

Boom!

He sits up with a grin. Seems like it wasn't scheduled after all.

There's the sounds of fighting and gunshots and explosions and screaming. It all quietens eventually, leaving him on the edge of his seat for whichever side came out on top. There's footsteps in the hallway. Blue tinted silvery hair and glasses hiding an annoyed glare—it's Azul. Floyd comes barreling in a second later. "Jade. I didn't expect your depression to be so bad you'd let yourself get arrested." His friend boss unlocks the door and he steps out with a stretch.

"My apologies. I must admit I was rather preoccupied with my loss."

"Then congratulations."

They walk down the halls littered with dead bodies and Azul's men making sure the dead bodies stayed dead.

"Pardon?"

"It was quite difficult getting through the bulletproof gate, much less just finding this hellhole. Top secret, off the grid, heavily guarded and everything."

"Well then, I thank you for your efforts."

They step out of the prison and back to the grounds.

"Yes yes, but they weren't all my efforts you know?"

He sees a familiar silhouette.

"This place is Interpol property, after all."

"Jade!" You run towards him and tackle him into a hug. He can barely believe his eyes, but he hugs you back so tight you start gasping for air.

"Why...?"

You smile. "My name's Y/N L/N, I killed that alias! I graduated from X police academy, but just recently, I leaked confidential information from the international police force to one of the biggest crime groups in the world. It was fun!"

"Fun?"

"Yeah, but now I'm wanted and have nowhere else to stay." You tug on his sleeve. "Stranger, you got an extra bedspace? I just escaped from getting killed by my former mentors and I'm all tuckered out."

He carries you in his arms and kisses you hard.

[orphicrose]

The Co-Host (Alastor x FemReader) VIII

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

Warnings ! ! Mentions of Death and Bl00D

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz @multifandom-superlover

--------------------------------------------------

Heart full of feelings that felt as if didn't belong to her. She felt like the shell of a person, not truly existing anymore. Having a constant out of body experience. 

While he, he grieved. Grieved a relationship that never had the chance to fully blossom. Grieved what could have been, grieved who he used to be or had the chance to be. Oh, what his mother must think of him now. He never even had a chance to think about what everyone still alive thought of him, his little secret having an audience to witness. Lose ends ruining his reputation as a beloved media presence, turning him into a notorious serial killer. He knew he belonged down here, he knew he deserved everything that came his way. But the question still begged, why was she down here. Was it because she sold her soul to th devil? Or was it for a reason far to unruly to share to the light. 

His hands sweat as the journal stay to close grip between his fingers. Never leaving his side. There was far more to read in a safer environment. His path was obstructed by a tall figure, appearing out of the thin air around him. 

"So we finally meet, Alastor" Satans demeanor cold, as usual, and his stance meaning one of business. Hands tucked neatly into his trouser pockets. 

"Satan, I assume?" Alastors smile gleamed in the light of the pentagram. Baring his sharp teeth like a predator. "How do i deserve this honor?"

Satan began to move towards the wendigo, towering over him. "As I'm sure you're aware, y/n works for me" He hummed, circling Alastor like he was going to attack at any second. "And you..." He paused to give out a deep laugh "Well, you are disrupting my line of production. You see, millions of sinners on Earth call my name daily. Wanting to make a deal. And the more souls I have, the more power I have. But y/n is the only one i trust far enough to have the duty of collecting said souls. and you" He leapt forward, holding Alastor's chin upwards with the tip of his cane. "You meddeling with her is distracting . You're costing me money, radio demon"

Eye contact was held strongly between the two, not wanting to fault to show weakness. "You want the closure of knowing your little pet isn't the saint you want to believe?" Alastor wanted to say no so badly, wanted to stay ignorant. Wanted to hold onto the belief that there was still hope for y/n to not be the same at him. He didn't want to be the Clyde to her Bonnie, he wanted to be the story she'd tell to friends in heaven. To her mother, or her father. 

"She's just like you" His voice taunted, leaning closer into his ear. The words he oh so desperately never wanted to hear. 

Y/n strolled through the lit up streets of hell, admiring the buildings towering over her. Something she had never really done before. Casual sinners in the streets cowering at the sight of her, leaving her a free path to walk in as they fled. Slamming doors behind them. What a skill to have, but how lonely it made her feel. 

She arrived at the doors of her place of work. At first, hesitating to open the doors. Afraid of what might wait on the other side this time. But when she did open them, she found nothing. Silence and isolation filled the chambers of the rooms. It was eerie. Usually tensions built with high stress levels as soon as she walked in, demons bouncing off each other as they run from room to room. But the haunting recent history of this workplace made it seemingly abandoned. Of course, they wouldn't get away with holiday for long, for as long as Satan breathed. But for now, she would revel in the periodic silence of the structure. 

Her office, the only untouched room in the building, brought her some comfort. Nothing having changed. Just as soon as she started to loosen up, her door flung open. The tall red demon appearing in front of her eyes. The same fear she felt the first time they encountered returning, sinking into her chair as he moved through the doorway and shut it behind him. "What do you want?" Her eyes showing a slowly boiling rage building up inside her. Seemingly, he was experiencing the same feeling. 

He took a seat opposite her, hands sat on the desk. "I want answers, miss l/n" She stood from her seat abruptly, moving backwards. His eyes turned from frustration to a saddened look. Confused as to her shift in temperament towards him. Had he missed something?

"When were you going to tell me we knew each other?" Her question caught him of guard, looking up to her and waiting for more. She relived the memory, him covered in blood. "What is this?" She slammed down the leaflet on the desk. Alastor let out a loud sigh, he must have forgotten to put it away yesterday. She spoke loudly, halfway to shouting at him. Tears welling and dropping slowly to the floor in a rhythmic pattern. 

"Are you the reason I'm down here? Did you murder me?"

"No!" His tone enraged by the accusation, rising to his feet to share her eyeline. "I think you'll find you're the reason I'm here, y/n"

She stood in silence, tears picking up there pace as they dampen her cheeks and collar. 

"When you left, I struggled. I lost myself along with you. I turned into someone I regret heavily" Alastor's voice cracked, dropping any radio sound effect he may have had. Struggling to maintain an effortless smile. "But it seems you weren't so much of a saint either"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You still don't remember?" 

The two stared at each other. Not truly understanding the wants or intentions of the other. 

"I- Only a small fragment. I remember coming back to Earth to see you. That's how i got this" She calmed herself down, seeing that miscommunication between the two would make the situation worse. "We were close?"

"Very"

"And I did something to hurt you?"

"You died, y/n" Alastor rubbed his temple, suppressing any tears that dared to gloss his eyes. "I don't care, as to why you're here. We both did terrible things. Things that you may or may not ever remember. But..." A deep breath was taken to help steady his shaky words. "But for you to go to the lengths to forget everything, it must mean I was never held as dear to you as you were to me"

Alastor knelt to pick up the microphone left astray on the floor, brushing off his tie when he came back to his feet. Then turning to leave. 

"I made myself forget because it hurt" She shouted, desperately wanting him to stay. "The pain of losing everything was to hard to deal with. I'm down here because of my own actions, that's on me. But I never excepted anyone I care about to follow me here"

She moved closer to him, needing more answers. Or some sort of closure. "What if i remembered everything? Then what? We continue where we left off?"

"No!" He turned "If you remembered me, and then realized what I am, you wouldn't even want to look at me" His face solemn. "I'd rather you only remembered one version of me, not both"

"So what do you want from me?"

He looked down to his feet. "Closure"

[everydayyoulovemeless]

May I have more Benny relationship headcanons please 🥺

Romantic Benny HCs: 2

➼ Word Count » 0.4k ➼ Warnings » Slightly Suggestive? ➼ Genre » Romantic

Benny loves hugging your waist, especially when you're both in public. PDA is always best when others can see it — at least, that's how he sees it, and what better than showing you off?

He likes to pretend he's a pimp, but every morning when you wake up to his own rendition of a wasteland breakfast, it's hard for him to keep that image up.

He loves cradling your head and peppering kisses all over your face, although he prefers to do it in the privacy of one of his suites. Can't be ruining that reputation, yeah?

He'll get you this beautiful, silver necklace with The Tops logo on it so that others get the message that you're with him and the rest of the Chairmen.

Anywhere you wanna go, Benny will gladly take you. Just whisper a location into his ear, and he'll get on with making preparations.

Whenever he spots you lounging around in his casino, he'll make a big show, grabbing everyone's attention before dipping you down and kissing you.

He likes to give you all these sweet pet names. The ones he uses most often are baby, doll, gem, broad, and sweets.

He has a slight jealous streak where he might 'accidentally' ward off a few acquaintances of yours. You can tell by the shaded look in his eyes when he's not feeling someone as much as you might be, but that's the only real downside of being with him.

Benny's a huge morning person and will gently trace words of endearment into your skin until you finally wake up.

You'll be included in all of his schemes. He's been looking for a reliable partner for a minute now, and you happen to check off everything on the list. You're brave, good with a gun, clever, and an absolute wild card, baby. You guys are the Bonnie and Clyde of the wasteland.

He's not one to be tied down by anyone, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered marrying you. Realistically, he'd never do it, but he'd love to give you a ring if nothing else than as a declaration of loyalty. It's like marriage without actually having to tie the knot.

His favorite thing is when you steal Maria out of its holster and aim it at him. He doesn't know how to explain it, he just knows it turns him on.

[arkaix]

*breaks through the wall* I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH HOW GRATEFUL I AM FOR YOUR MORTIMER POST I AM KISSING YOU RN /PLATONIC PLATONIC-

mortimer is so underrated us mortimer fans have to scrounge in the dirt for content and will have to keep doing that until pastra shows us mercy and he shows up in some promo art or in doai itself. but seeing fan content that we all create makes it worth the wait frfr! anyways, im going to be freaking out over this for the next week, thank you so much, farewell-

ABJDJRJFJJEJXJRJEHHFHTJW thankyousomuch aaa (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ I cannot WAIT to see how Mort will fit into the main story, but for now we'll make it work with what we have (not much TwT)

Recently Pastra posted a tweet with the moral alignment of all the characters and 👀👀 Mortimer is lawful neutral apparently!

That's interesting, maybe since Mort is working for the Lankmann foundation he'll be thinkin' "Yea maybe what's happening is fucked up but I believe it's necessary/ the lesser evil"

That's not gonna stop me from drawing him as a little gremlin hehehe

(definitions taken by the D&D alignment chart wiki)

Now while we're here allow me to ramble a bit about this tweet because there's a lot to ponder 👀👀

here goes out the window any chance that Clyde might be an even remotely peaceful creature in normal circumstances: it's here to get its revenge and it's gonna cause as much damage as possible in the meantime <@_@>

On the other side Winfrey is true neutral aaaaaaa ✨✨

Klaus is the one that baffles me the most because?? The one Veldi who Pastra described as the sadistic one is Lawful??

We know for a fact that Klaus is the name of officer Krueger's son, who in the current timeline is still VERY young (we're talking like 10yr young). We still don't know yet if in this new version of the story Veldigun share a mind with the ones they consume but if that's the case, will lil' Klaus have a warped and strict vision of society and rules? Will this aspect be influenced by Klaus' dad himself? Will his "system" or strict code of conduct be related or opposite to the one reinforced by Lankmann?

SIMON IS STILL GOOD CONFIRMED YEAAAAA

______________________________________________________________

Oh and if you were wondering about Lankmann:

That also surprised me 'cause my first thought was "Well he'd be lawful evil, he is in charge of a rigid system he created and is absolutely willing to sacrifice a few people if that can help save the county from the whole Veldigun crisis" but talking with some friends I realized this alignment makes sense too, if you think about Herbert as a ruthless man who will stop at nothing to achieve his goal, no law and no moral is unbreakable. It is debatable if he also actively wants to cause harm to others, but my guess is that he just doesn't care who gets hurt.

That being said thank you so much for the ask, have a cyber hug (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

[valentoru]

|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 14]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

You stayed back late on Monday to work on some lyrics and some other things that you needed to get put in order before the big performance at Geto’s event. This event was extremely important. It held great meaning you needed everything to go perfectly.

So there you sat at 8pm click click clicking away at your computer. You had to admit, all this work that you’d fallen back on was almost too much for you to handle. You’d even briefly hovered over Maki’s contact to summon her. You weren’t sure if you wanted her moral support or her simple help, but you needed something.

The minutes ticked by as you stared at your laptop display, wondering what to type. Making up scenarios, even remembering and reviewing past arguments wishing you’d spoken your mind. That was something you had to work on.

You were halfway though reciting what you were going to say at the concert, expressing what a great honour it would be when the door slammed open

You looked over at the door to see the culprit, it was Inumaki. With Yuji closely following behind.

Inumaki slammed his files down on the desk slamming his hand on top, Yuji mumbling something about calming down. Inumaki sat at the table sulking as Yuji’s face morphed into that of worry upon noticing you.

You stared at the scene for a moment, collecting your barrings. “What’s wrong?”

You had honestly expected the answer to be, I can’t work out my chords and managed snapped the strings on my base or I got offered to do a brand deal with a shitty company that I don’t even like and I don’t want to do it however my hands are tied since the promotion team wants me to do it.

Instead, you got; “your stupid boyfriend is what’s wrong”

By now, the fake dating thing was old news: you didn’t startle anymore when Satoru was referred to as your boyfriend. Still, Inumaki’s words were so full of venom and unexpected that you couldn’t help but answer, “Who?”

“Gojo.” He spat his name like it was a curse.

“Oh.”

“He wasn’t the nicest to Inumaki just now.” Yuji explained in a significantly milder tone, avoiding your eyes, you knew these boys too well, they never got like this about anyone, no matter what.

“Oh. Right.” This was bad. Very bad. “What happened.”

“He essentially told me I’ll never amount to anything as an bassist. He fucked with my guitar tune too.”

“Shit.” You bit your lower lip. “I’m sorry, Inumaki.”

“It’s completely fucked up all of, well, everything. Set me back. All because Gojo has to go and nitpick everything. I didn’t even ask for his fucking opinion.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with something inspiring to say and failing miserably. “I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N do you guys talk about this stuff?” Yuji asked out of the blue, eyeing you suspiciously. “Does he tell you about his opinions on this stuff?”

“What? No. No, I…” I talk to him for exactly fifteen minutes a week. And okay, yeah, I’ve kissed him. Twice. Sat on his lap. Once. But it’s just that, and Clyde—he speaks very little. I actually which he spoke more, since I know nothing about him and I’d like to know at least something. “No, he doesn’t. I think it would probably be awkward if he did, considering you’re, you know, in the same band as me.”

“God.” Inumaki slammed his hand against the edge of the table, making your jump. “He’s such a dick. What as sadistic asshole.”

You opened your mouth—to do what, exactly? To defend Satoru? He was a dick. You had seen him being a dick. In full action. Maybe not recently, and maybe not to you, but if you’d wanted to count on your fingers the number of acquaintances who’d ended up in tears because of him, well…you would be both your hands, then your toes. Maybe borrow some of Yuji’s, too.

“Did he explain where you should improve at least? What you need to work on?”

“Everything. He wants me to change everything right from my work ethic to how much I practice to how I look at my guitar when I play. And the way he said it, his air of superiority—he is so arrogant.”

Well. It was no news, really. You scratched your cheek, trying not to sigh. “It sucks. I’m sorry,” you repeated once more, at a loss for anything better and genuinely feelings for Inumaki.

“Yeah, well.” He stood and walked around the table, coming to a stop in front of you. “You should be.”

You froze. Surely you just misheard. “Excuse me?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“I…” really am not. But, even if you had been. “Toge, I’m only dating him. I’m not him. How could I have anything to do with—”

“You’re fine with all this. With him acting like that—like an asshole on a power trip. You don’t give a shit about the way he treats everyone in the world, otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to stomach being with him.”

At his tone, you took a step back.

Yuji lifted his hands in a peacekeeping gesture, coming to stand between you. “Hey, now. Let’s not—”

“I’m not the one who said that to you, Toge.”

“Maybe. But you don’t care that half of the fucking world lives in terror of your boyfriend, either.”

You felt anger bubbling up. “That is not true, you know that. I am able to keep my professional relationships and my personal feelings for him—”

“Because you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s unfair. What am I supposed to do?”

“Get him to stop being a dick.”

“Get him—” you sputtered. “Toge how is that a rational response for you to have about Satoru criticising you—”

“Ah, Satoru, is it?”

You gritted your teeth. “Yes, Satoru. What should I call my boyfriend to better please you? Mr Satoru Gojo?”

“If you were a half decent ally to the world, you would just dump your fucking boyfriend.”

“How—do you even realise how little sense you’re…”

No reason to finish your sentence, since Inumaki was storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Clearly he was uninterested in anything you might have wanted to add. You ran a hand down your face, unsettled by what had just happened.

“He’s not…he doesn’t really mean that. Not about you at least.” Yuji said, scratching his head. A nice reminder to you that he had been standing there, in the room, for the entirety of this conversation. Front-row seat. It was going to take maybe fifteen minutes before everyone else’s knew about it.

You nodded. “Yeah, well.” Being horrible to me isn’t going to make his improvements go any faster, you didn’t add

Yuji sighed. “It’s not personal. But you have to understand it’s weird for us. Because Gojo…maybe he wasn’t like this to you but you must know the kind of guy he is right?”

You rolled you eyes. You were fully aware, you’d been told millions of times by now. You were tired, if anything. All you did was nod, grab your belongings and leave, not saying a word leaving Yuji stood in that room alone. You didn’t have the energy for any of this.

Once you got home, you lay on your unmade bed looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars. It had been more that two years since you had borrowed Megumi’s strop ladder and fearfully stuck them to the ceiling. The glue was starting to give out, and the large comet in the corner by the window was going to fall off any day now. Without thinking it through you rolled out of bed and rummaged inside the pocket of your discarded jeans until you found your cellphone.

You hadn’t used Satoru’s number since he’d given it to you a few days ago—“If anything comes up or you need to cancel, just give me a call. It’s quicker than email.” When you tapped the blue “message” icon under his name a white screen popped up, a blank slate with no history of previous messages. It gave you an odd rush of anxiety, so much so that you typed the text with one hand while biting the thumbnail on the other.

TAGLIST(34/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @disenchantedzs @littlecritteryay @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee @tikideedee

AN:

So…like…heh…it’s been a minute…or two.

Anywayyyy this is sort of a filler so…like…ya…next chapter is gonna be FUN tho so 😈

© valentoru all rights reserved- do not publish my work on other platforms, plagiarise or translate.

[seeingivy]

cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

--

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes. 

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage. 

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents. 

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together. 

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met. 

Satoru Gojo. 

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?” 

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats. 

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope. 

“Where did you pick? For us to live?” 

“Cornelia Street.”

--

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it. 

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”  

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before. 

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.” 

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.” 

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.” 

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in. 

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil. 

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it. 

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours. 

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?” 

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.” 

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you. 

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-” 

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.” 

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn. 

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime. 

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you. 

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations. 

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-” 

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-” 

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.” 

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street. 

--

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good. 

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you. 

“Hey.” 

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.” 

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.” 

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen. 

“Did you eat all the food already?” 

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.” 

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-” 

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.” 

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come. 

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms. 

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-” 

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left. 

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering. 

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-” 

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-” 

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice. 

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again. 

“You okay, Bonnie?” 

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re positive?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?” 

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you? 

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-” 

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair. 

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?” 

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-” 

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.” 

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not. 

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again. 

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.” 

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.” 

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions. 

“Fine.” 

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face. 

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again. 

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?” 

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.” 

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?” 

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.” 

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you. 

--

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta. 

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that. 

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki. 

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.” 

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?” 

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.” 

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-” 

“Yuuta, you little piece of-” 

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street. 

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.” 

You smile. 

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.” 

“You were right.” 

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.” 

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“Ah, you know. The usual.” 

“The usual?” 

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you. 

“What?” 

“Guess what time it is.” 

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-” 

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds. 

“Satoru.” 

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-” 

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice. 

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat. 

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.” 

“And?” 

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.” 

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.” 

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.” 

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing. 

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.” 

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.” 

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was. 

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right. 

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him. 

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now. 

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him. 

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you. 

“Thank you, Bonnie.” 

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.” 

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.” 

“That was one time. You could share, you know.” 

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly. 

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky. 

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?” 

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.” 

“Hm.” 

“What?” 

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?” 

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.” 

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you. 

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?” 

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers. 

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.” 

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street. 

“Are you-” 

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.” 

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest. 

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile. 

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him. 

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin. 

“Satoru. This is public indecency.” 

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds. 

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”  

--

“Almonds, Bonnie.” 

“Satoru.” 

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.” 

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee. 

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for. 

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm, Bonnie?” 

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?” 

“Sure.” 

“Mail this for me.” 

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes. 

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to. 

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm?” 

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?” 

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.” 

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder. 

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you. 

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?” 

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” 

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening. 

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” 

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?” 

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-” 

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.” 

“Bonnie, I can explain-” 

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street. 

--

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore. 

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong. 

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once. 

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of. 

She’s going to work, just a different way. 

Yes, I gave her the almond packets. 

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you. 

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you. 

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you. 

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do. 

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs. 

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place. 

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative. 

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter. 

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him. 

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again. 

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace. 

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted. 

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are. 

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you. 

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?” 

“Ran into traffic.” 

“Wish they hit you.” 

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay. 

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?” 

“What?” 

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?” 

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you. 

“Give me an answer.” 

“No, Satoru.” 

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?” 

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond. 

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.” 

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right. 

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.” 

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.” 

“If you let me explain, I would-” 

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.” 

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it. 

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever. 

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yes?” 

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?” 

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you. 

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-” 

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates. 

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.” 

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold. 

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

[sp-by-april]

MORE MEAN BRAT TAMING WITH KYLE STAN AND READER PLS! CAN BE MALE OR FEMALE! JUST NEED IT MEAN AND ROUGHHH

I hope this is to your liking. We have public humiliation, name calling, spitting, biting, collaring....

Kyle, Stan x F!Reader

[Read on Ao3!] [Kyle Master List] [Stan Master List]

I’m that girl everyone warns you about.

She’s wild.

She’s hot.

She’s selfish.

“She’s a little fucking brat,” Kyle said.

We were all at Clyde’s annual summer house party. Almost everyone in our graduating class was there. I was looking hot as ever, really feeling myself as I slid open the door to the deck when I heard Kyle and Stan talking. About me.

“She’s spoiled. No one’s ever stood up to her,” Stan said, “We both tried, that’s why she broke it off and ran,”

Yeah, I dated both of them. Not together, or at the same time, or anything. Neither relationship lasted long. Still.

I pranced out onto the deck and Stan almost jumped when he saw me.

I smirked, “Shit talking me, Marsh? I thought that was beneath you,”

Kyle frowned at me, “It’s not shit-talking if it’s true,”

“So when I tell you that the reasons I broke it off were because you were boring, you were too soft, and you had nothing to offer…” I grabbed the bottom of Stan’s jacket and tugged it to get a reaction out of them, “That’s not shit-talking because it’s the truth?”

Kyle smacked my hand away from him, “It doesn’t matter. You weren’t worth keeping, anyway,”

All my attention had been on Stan since I came outside and Kyle hates being ignored. I figured that would piss him off more than anything.

“Apparently, I’m still worth talking about,” I reached for Stan again but Kyle grabbed my wrist.

He started turning it, “Get out of here before I do something you’ll regret,”

He was actually kind of hurting me! I couldn’t believe it. It pissed me off. I grabbed his hand and tried to pull it off mine.

As I struggled, I used my most venomous tone, “Make me,”

He grabbed me with his other hand and wrenched me off of him.

Kyle held both of my wrists now, “I’m going to make you wish you’d never said that,”

He twisted so hard I yelped and my knees almost buckled.

He turned to Stan, “What do you think?”

“I’m in,” Stan grinned like an idiot and leaned over me, “You should be happy. Tonight is gonna be all about you,”

I tried to yank my wrists back but Kyle held firm, “Should we take her upstairs?”

“No,” Stan unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the chair beside him, “We should do it right here. So everyone can see,”

Stan curled his hand around my neck, his thumb landing right under my chin.

“She’s nothing. She’s just a spit cup,” He put his mouth to my ear, “We’ll prove it,”

I rolled my eyes and tipped my head away from him, “Good show. Almost believable. Can I go now, or are you guys going to bore me to death?”

Stan kept my neck in his hand, pulled me a step back, then pushed down until I was sitting on this long lounge chair against the back of the house.

I blinked as I looked out over the deck. There were groups of people in the backyard. Some of them were staring. We weren’t exactly being quiet. Stan was right, everyone could see. I wouldn’t back down, though. I just knew I could win this game.

Kyle finally let go of my wrists, “Feigning boredom. Talking back. None of your tricks are going to work tonight,”

I turned my head away from him as I rubbed each of my sore wrists.

Kyle sat down next to me and put his hand on my knee, “Ignoring me isn’t gonna work either,”

Stan’s thumb started to caress my throat as he leaned over me. His free hand dropped on my other knee. He and Kyle pulled them apart, flashing my lacy white panties to the audience below. The deck was now a stage. I’m pretty sure I saw Kenny texting someone about what was happening.

Kyle’s hand slid up my thigh and started pulling the thin fabric.

I ignored Kyle as Stan’s hand left my knee and dove into his back pocket, “Stan–“

Kyle pushed his fingers inside me forcefully and I gasped. I had to pull it together if I wanted to win.

I tried to continue ignoring Kyle, “Stan, I already know I’m the best you've ever had. I’m sure you probably still jack off to my nudes and everything but –“

“Shut the fuck up and open your mouth,” Kyle snapped. He was done being disregarded.

I finally looked over to him, and his hand pulled out of me. He was wet down to his knuckles with my slick and as he rubbed his fingertips against my lips I heard a distinct shutter sound. Stan was taking pictures on his phone. While I was momentarily distracted, Kyle pushed his fingers in my mouth and forced me to suck them clean.

Stan filmed the whole thing.

Kyle’s hand pulled out my mouth, quickly dropped down between my legs and he pushed his fingers back inside. He immediately started massaging my plush little g-spot.

He put his mouth to my ear and his hot breath melted over my skin in the cool night air, “I’m gonna keep you coming until you can’t take it,”

My thighs locked around his hand and my hips started grinding on him.

I tried my best to ignore him. I didn’t want to succumb so early but, fuck, he knew exactly where to touch me. When we were together I trained him well when it came to making me come. Now he was using it against me.

I couldn’t stop the wave. The pleasure I didn’t want washed over my body and I moaned shamelessly. The heart of me, the part of my body Kyle had once called his favorite place in the world, held his fingers like a vice as I came.

While I came down from the excellent endorphins, Kyle grinned as I released his hand.

He stood up and glanced over at Stan, “If you’re just gonna film…”

He started to unbutton and unzip his pants while Stan dropped onto the chair next to me.

His hand finally fell from my neck and slid straight down to my breasts. He filmed is hand fondling them through the thin material of my strapless dress. Then he filmed his hand dropping between my legs.

Stan’s fingers pushed inside me and my breath hitched as Kyle stroked himself in front of me.

I’d never tell him this in a million years, but Kyle had a great cock. It didn’t just feel good because he was so thick, it looked good. When we were together I would blow him all the time, just because I loved how he tasted and the way he felt on my tongue. If he thought he was punishing me by putting that thing in my mouth, he was in for a surprise.

He rubbed the tip over my lips, leaving them wet with precum and I finally opened my mouth. I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft and stoked him as my tongue ran small circles under the head. It was something I knew he loved. The first time we hooked up, I pulled this move and he came so fast that I was a little disappointed.

His breath quickened and mine went with him as Stan’s fingers curled to hit my sweet spot.

But Kyle wasn’t going to let me control any part of how this went.

He pushed himself to the back of my throat, “I want you to think about all the fucked up, filthy shit we could do to you tonight,”

Stan increased the pressure he was using inside of me as his other hand switched between filming what was happening to my pussy and my lips wrapped around Kyle’s dick.

“Think about how we’re going to do a lot more than just stuffing you full with our cocks,” Kyle groaned as he started to fuck my face.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and my eyes rolled back as I held onto Kyle’s thighs and used them to brace myself.

I was honestly a little glad Kyle took over, because the way Stan was touching me, I couldn’t concentrate. If Stan has one strength it’s those fucking hands. The way he holds, squeezes, massages... All of it was on another level with this guy.

I fought hard to control my moans, Kyle was determined to make it even harder.

“I was controlling myself before but you should know,” He pulled my hair and his other hand dropped to roughly fondly my breast, “From the moment I first saw you, I wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t take it,”

Stan nipped at my other ear, “I think a few of the guys out there feel the same way. Some of them are about to start jacking off to you already,”

“She’s probably loving that,” Kyle turned his attention back to me and thrust hard against my throat, “Don’t worry, we’ll show them how worthless you really are,”

Kyle’s other hand slid over my cheek and he now had full control of my head, “Everyone’s watching,”

My hand ran up from Kyle’s thigh, over his stomach, and then up to his chest. It didn’t seem to phase him in the least. I tried to ignore the hushed voices around us and just focus on what they were doing to my body. Kyle wouldn’t let me.

“They’re here to see you get what’s coming to you,” He pulled on my hair and I winced, “You’ve earned this,”

Stan had won. My muscles tensed up, my nails dug into Kyle’s chest and I moaned deep onto his cock. I couldn’t believe they were making me come already but Stan’s movements in conjunction with Kyle’s words took me past the limit.

The wave of pleasure that crashed over me was fucking embarrassing. I put up a fight, we’d barely started and my pussy was already gripping Stan’s fingers like I needed them to live.

The vibrations from my shameful moans must have pushed Kyle to the edge because he groaned low and his cock started pumping salty, wet ribbons into my mouth. He never stopped thrusting, fucking his cum deep into my throat. I swallowed as much as I could, but I still felt some dripping down my chin. It didn’t help that Stan’s fingers were still fucking me and there was a goddamn iPhone shoved in my face.

Stan pulled his hand from me finally, but his wet fingers grabbed hold of my neck again. He looked at me like he was trying to figure something out. He gave my neck a small squeeze and let me go as he stood.

I looked up at Kyle, holding his cock in the warmth of my mouth, and when I caught his gaze the corner of his mouth curled up. His eyes were heavy lidded and as much as I could tell he was having fun playing with me, his serious, cool demeanor worried me a little.

Okay, it worried me a lot.

He pulled my hair a little as he kept his hold on me, “Don’t move,”

I should’ve been paying attention to Stan instead.

Stan turned to the growing crowd, “Who’s got a belt?”

I heard the sounds of people murmuring, talking, and speaking in other hushed tones. It really sounded like everyone who’d been in the house came around from the front to gawk at what they were doing to me. Then I heard multiple belts unbuckling. I glanced to the sides of me and looked like people crowded mostly at the sides of the deck to get a good look at Kyle’s dick in my mouth.

I found out later that Tolkien and Clyde both unbuckled, pulled the belts from their loops, and raised them in the air.

Stan looked between both of them and made a decision, “Tolkien,”

Tolkien smirked and pushed past a few people to get to the deck. Stan reached down over the deck and he handed him a dark leather belt.

Kyle withdrew from me and dropped his hand from my face, but his fist kept a strong hold on my hair.

Stan approached with the belt and I got a good look at it. It was long, but not very tall and looked pretty expensive.

He wrapped the belt around my neck and pushed the metal latch through the leather until it closed through the new makeshift hole.

I was collared.

Kyle smirked, “I’d say we cut off the excess but it could make a good leash,”

Kyle pulled my hair tight, "Open your mouth,"

I shook my head and Kyle grabbed my face with his other hand. He pushed his fingers into the tender flesh of my cheeks, harder and harder until I relented and my mouth opened.

He tilted my face up to him, leaned over me, and dropped a big glob of spit right into my mouth.

I swallowed and he finally let go of me completely.

Stan grabbed the front of my strapless dress and both of my hands clung to his wrist to stop him, but Kyle pounced onto my hands again ripping me off of him. It wasn’t fair, Kyle’s hands were so much bigger than mine and it seemed like he was always watching me.

Stan pulled the front of my dress down, exposing my bare breasts. He started fondling them and I noticed he was biting his lip.

He then pulled at the belt around my neck, “Take my dick out,”

“Fuck you,” I was defiant. Seriously, fuck this guy.

“This is–” Stan started.

“Fuck. You,” I reiterated.

Stan yanked hard on the makeshift leash around my neck, “You’re not fucking allowed to talk anymore,”

Stan made sure his phone was right in my face to capture every minute of this. I don’t know what he was about to say but I smacked his phone out of his hand and it fell into his lap. How’s that for not talking? Still got my message across.

He pulled on the belt until my ear was to his mouth, “This is exactly why we’re gonna break you tonight in front of everybody,”

He took his hand off the leash and slid his phone back into his pocket. Then he grabbed my wrist and dropped my hand on his lap.

Stan’s hard-on was practically fighting with his zipper. I unbuttoned, then unzipped him to pull down his pants and boxers. His cock sprang up immediately.

He wrapped the belt around his hand, tugged upwards a little, and I understood immediately. I pulled my knees up onto the chair and then he guided my face down to his dick.

I took him in my mouth and didn’t realize Kyle was behind me until he pulled my panties down. His fingers rubbed along my slit, pushed deep inside, pulled out, and slid to my clit. He started rubbing me in small circles and it reminded me of how I liked to use my tongue on him.

I tried not to moan as my head slowly bobbed on Stan’s dick. While making Stan come fast from added movement and vibrations would be fun, I didn’t want to give Kyle the satisfaction.

Kyle smacked my ass, hard. I still had a red mark there the next day. I should’ve known Kyle would immediately take advantage of me being ass up, face down.

“Is that the best you can do?” Kyle leaned over me as he rubbed his cock along my slit, “I thought she’d make a better fucktoy,”

Stan groaned and grabbed a fistful of my hair, “I wanted to keep going until she begged us to stop. She probably won’t even make a good fleshlight,”

“Let’s find out,” Kyle groaned as he squeezed inside of me.

I couldn’t stop myself from moaning onto Stan’s dick. My mouth started going faster too, it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle wasn’t gentle. He started pounding into my delicate, previously favored pussy like it was nothing to him. I was surprised. Kyle had fucked me before. It wasn’t anything like this. It felt insanely good.

Like 'I almost put my hand on my clit,' good. God, I wanted to come again. I had to wait because Stan pulled my leash and my hair.

His hips jumped and his dick slammed into the back of my throat. I gagged a little and I could feel Kyle throb at the sight of me struggling.

Stan groaned loudly and held my head down as he spilled his seed in my mouth, “Swallow. Every drop,”

I tried my best to do as instructed while Kyle continued to slam into me. I tried so hard to pretend that getting fucked by Kyle’s thick cock didn’t feel good, but even with him fucking me so carelessly, he was hitting my sweet spot so deliciously I was drooling right on Stan.

I wouldn’t be surprised if all the extra lubrication in conjunction with my uncontrollable moaning is what made him come so fast.

Once I’d swallowed everything Stan had to offer, he let go of the belt and my hair. I finally lifted my head off of him.

Kyle grabbed the leash and yanked me upwards until I was standing on my knees and my back was pressed against him.

“Her body feels good,” Kyle rubbed my breast, squeezed it hard then slid his hand down my body and landed on my clit, “It’s no wonder she’s such a slutty little brat,”

I was going to protest but he was rubbing me again and I wanted to come again more than anything. I would’ve sold my soul for an orgasm that instant and Kyle was throwing me headfirst into one.

“Let’s see if she’s still good enough to fill up,” He growled in my ear.

I shook my head, “You can’t come in me –“

He pulled on my collar, “I can do whatever I want,”

I whimpered as he pulled on my neck and the bliss I longed for was so close.

Kyle knew it, “Will you be a good girl and come for everyone?”

I started moaning louder, and I heard someone below us yell, “She’s coming again!”

Kyle was fucking me so intensely that I had almost forgotten there was an audience.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was all the warmth between my legs and the feeling in my core that was quickly spreading out to the rest of my body. It was so intense, I almost screamed. As I came, the delicate pocket between my legs Kyle was so intent on roughing up tightened around him until his cock was in a stranglehold.

His breath quickened even more and his hands slid back to my breasts, “Fuck,”

His hands palmed, and squeezed my breasts hard as his hips bucked up into me violently. His mouth dropped onto my shoulder and he fucking bit the fuck out of me as his cock pumped me full of hot, wet spurts.

Once he’d fully finished, Kyle pulled out of me and pushed me down. I landed right on Stan, my ass still in the air.

Kyle’s thumb traced my slit and pulled me open slightly, inspecting the damage and sticky mess he left inside of me.

He smirked, “You should try her pussy. I think she makes a great fleshlight,”

Stan grinned and pulled on the belt until I was straddling him, “I can tell. That bite’s gnarly,”

“I wanted to mark her,” Kyle shrugged as he stroked himself.

Stan watched me eagerly as I slid my slit over the head of his dick, “Let’s see if you’re worth anything after all,”

He pushed down on my hips and I whined as I sank down on him.

I held onto his shoulders as I started rocking my hips. He was impatient. His hands guided my hips harder, faster, harder.

I did one of my favorite moves, rolling my hips, and I listened to him groan so deep I thought he might drool.

“Shit, you actually feel fucking good,” He groaned.

I arched my back as I rode him and watched his face contort in pleasure. I was intent on regaining control. Unfortunately, Stan’s hand dipped between us and started massaging my clit. I was already sensitive and overstimulated from having three orgasms, I couldn’t concentrate.

The fact that I was riding him just the way I liked and it was Stan’s perfect fucking hand touching me had pushed me over the edge.

My head lolled back as I felt the pleasure overtake me.

Stan yanked the leash again, “Keep your eyes on me,”

I whimpered like a dumb bitch and obeyed. The way I was coming I would’ve done anything he asked of me.

He held the belt tightly and watched my face as I came. My eyes rolled back, my mouth dropped open, and a loud shuddering moan poured out of me.

I wasn’t alone. Stan was just as loud as my silky walls fastened up around him and gripped him possessively.

I gasped for air after my body had betrayed me.

Kyle grabbed the belt and pulled me towards him, as Stan panted and gathered himself.

I stood on my knees and Kyle’s hands both went straight for my breasts. He squeezed them and then his thumbs swept my nipples. He pinched and pulled them and I saw his cock twitch as he listened to me whimper and whine.

I barely noticed Stan on his knees behind me until he pushed my shoulders forward and rubbed his hand up from my dripping slit to my ass, spreading around the wet, sticky mix of slick and cum.

Kyle glanced over at him, “Do you think she’s ready?”

Stan pushed the tip of his dick against my ass, “I think we can make it work, yeah,”

I tried to turn back to him, I was going to beg him to be gentle but Kyle grabbed the belt again and kept me in place.

I gasped and squirmed as Stan pushed into me.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my back up against him. Then his arm dropped to lift my leg, giving Kyle full access to my core.

Kyle slid the head of his cock along my slit and quickly shoved his entire manhood inside my anticipating pussy.

I trembled and whimpered. It was all I could do. I couldn’t even move. I’d never done anal before, let alone had two guys with good dicks jammed in me at the same time.

Kyle slid his palm under my chin and grabbed my face, “What happened to the bratty little girl who was fighting so hard?”

I didn’t know what to say. I could feel Stan’s hips start to move in long deep strokes. I was so frustrated that I tried to fight back tears but they welled up in my eyes anyway.

Kyle’s lips slid into a smile and he kissed me. He pushed his tongue in my mouth and he started shifting into me.

Kyle only got more feral as he went on. God, the way his cock firmly thrust into me, the way his tongue moved against mine, where was that when we were dating? Was he really holding back like he said?

Stan’s hand slid from my shoulder to my breast. He alternated between roughly caressing, squeezing and palming me.

All I could do was lean against Stan and accept the sensations they were giving in abundance. My head lolled back onto Stan’s shoulder, but it didn’t stop Kyle. He leaned over me, still holding onto my face, and kept his mouth on mine as he drove his cock into me.

God, I’ll never forget the feeling of his tongue over mine, and his fingers pushing into my soft cheeks, and his body pressed against mine. He was pushing me against Stan without any daylight between the three of us, as his hips thrust into me. Stan shamelessly fondled me as he fucked me. He pushed a loud, shaking moan in my ear, finally admitting how much he enjoyed me.

I came first. I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even try to stop it or hold it off. My whole body trembled and I moaned embarrassingly loud. I thought they might’ve heard me on the next block. My back arched and Stan gasped in my ear. Kyle’s breath quickened as he felt it. Every muscle in my body seized and I couldn’t move.

Stan’s hips jerked abruptly into me and he made the most needy, pathetic noise as his dick spit his hot, wet seed deep inside of me.

He squeezed my breast and his forehead dropped onto my shoulder. I could feel his hot breath panting on my skin.

Kyle took a little longer, but he got there. He groaned and growled in my mouth and his hips bucked up into me violently. He held himself in as deep as he could and his mouth hungrily moved on mine as his cock pulsed intensely and pumped me full of sticky pearlescent spurts.

We panted in each other’s mouths for awhile and I heard murmuring from the crowd. The crowd. Fuck. I still couldn’t think about it.

They both withdrew from me and I collapsed on the lounge chair. My whole body was weak and everything between my thighs was unbearably wet, sticky and tingling with pins and needles from the over stimulation. I was so exhausted and used up that I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.

Stan looked me over but I couldn’t read his expression, “What should we do with her now?”

Kyle turned to the crowd staring at us in the backyard, “Who else wants a turn?”

[sserpente]

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! ♥ Requests from @incurablyromanticsblog​ and six (!) anons. I had so many super short requests that wouldn’t have made a whole story on their own, so now… here we have a spicy-President!Loki-Bonnie-and-Clyde-like-but-somehow-also-fluffy-Valentine’s-story! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 4768 Warnings: succubus!Reader, smut, fluff, violence, poison, imprisonment, blood, starvation

Moaning in a satisfied manner, you rolled over, letting the warm morning sunlight warm your naked skin. The sheets shifted a little during your movement, revealing your bare back to the barely awake God of Mischief resting next to you on the enormous king-size bed his magic had conjured up.

You shivered when his long digits ghosted over your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Good morning, pet,” he purred, his mischievous smirk speeding up your heartbeat in an instant.

“Morning…”

“Are you hungry?” His left eyebrow rose a little, daring you to an answer. You smiled, your eyes falling back shut.

“I’m good, actually. Not many men keep me up all night, you see.”

Loki chuckled. “There are no men like me, I can assure you.”

You had been fucking like wild animals for the past few weeks now. The sexual tension had been growing ever since you two met and when the God of Mischief found out you were a succubus… he offered you to feed on him in exchange for pleasure. He was different from the other men—the men back home who didn’t treat you like more than a body to have sex with because you needed it to survive anyway—no. Loki saw you. He saw your desires, saw your will and your persistence to survive after you had confessed your life story to him.

That you had fled your home to not be married off into a harem. To not serve incubi and their mortals men-slaves as warm a warm body to keep their cocks warm. Loki must have been sent to you by fate. When he told you about the Tesseract—an ancient artefact powerful enough to send you to different dimensions—you were intrigued and he had proposed a deal.

Help him, become his ally, and in return, he would ensure the blue cube would send you wherever you wished. You scoffed into the soft pillow. When you’re on the run, it was easier to flee to another dimension altogether. They wouldn’t search for you or find you there.

There wasn’t much you knew about Loki aside from the fact he was an Asgardian God and a Frost Giant by birth. You had learned quickly enough his adoptive father had neglected him and that his brother, Thor, was irritable enough for him to curse his very existence even though part of him loved the God of Thunder.

Having sex with him started out as a means to an end—to help with the constant sexual itch lingering between you two, a distraction as you raided Midgard for the Tesseract like a modern Bonnie and Clyde, leaving nothing but chaos and havoc behind. But then, one innocent morning, when he had still been asleep peacefully and you’d watched his relaxed features, stroking his gorgeous cheekbones… you realised you had fallen for him. Loki was an outsider much like you. He was mischievous, intelligent and oh, he could be so deliciously evil if things didn’t go his way.

Just now, you had lied to him. You were hungry again already. But if you fed on him now, a quick fuck would likely turn into Loki chaining you to the bed and having his way with you until you could all but whimper his name, over and over again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You had work to do. The Tesseract had last been located in a government facility here in New York—a place Loki was only too keen on keeping away from even though he had no intention of letting you know why.

“I will get dressed and head down to the facility, lurk about and spy a little. I’m sure I’ll find a security hole within an hour.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. We need the cube sooner rather than later.”

Loki frowned, propping himself up on his elbows when you stood. Stark naked, you tiptoed through the room in search of your clothes that were scattered all over the floor thanks to your uncontrolled passion last night.

You resisted the urge to jump back into bed and lick every single inch of his godly body. His naked upper body looked gorgeous in the sunlight shining through the open windows. You hadn’t bothered closing the curtains yesterday.

“You have barely slept, pet. It will take time to retrieve the Tesseract. You don’t know the Avengers like I do. They will do everything in their power to keep the cube out of harm’s way.”

“Why? What do they want with it?”

“Nothing, except for an undying power source for electricity and weapons. They have no interest in travelling through dimensions, even though I would argue SHIELD does indeed.”

“The Avengers… SHIELD… you speak in riddles, Loki.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “That shall be a story for another time.”

“You say that a lot, you know.”

Humming, he stood, revealing a delicious view of his behind before eventually turning around to face you again. You licked your lips, your eyes automatically travelling down to his length which had been inside of you only a few hours before.

“You need rest, pet. You will be of no help to me if you drop unconscious out of exhaustion sooner or later.”

“I’m fine, Loki. I’m not human either, remember?”

The God of Mischief lifted his chin, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. Your eyes fluttered shut. You did love his gentle touches. In fact, now that you thought about it, Loki’s hands were on you constantly. It wasn’t just the body parts men usually found sexually attractive, though you had little grounds to complain about his palms exploring your breasts, buttocks and pussy whenever he got the chance. Sometimes, Loki’s knuckles brushed over your forearm, other times, he would rest his face on your bare stomach after a long day of causing just enough mischief for the guards and SHIELD agents to remain distracted and stressed. It was almost like… like he was touch-starved.

You had seen this god murder men who stood in his way, had seen him drive another insane with wit and manipulation but with you… with you he was as soft as the light touch of a feather sailing to the ground.

Standing on your toes, you brought your palms against his well-defined chest and kissed him hungrily. Your senses awakened as soon as you initiated the act of intimacy, your body more than ready to feed on the sexual energy seething inside of him.

No time, not now. You could still fuck him senseless tonight when you were both back in this mediocre hotel room Loki’s seidr had turned into a small palace. Perhaps, however, there was just enough time for you to suck him off in the shower, to sate your hunger just a little?

“I’m going to get washed,” you announced, reluctantly releasing his lips. “Care to join me?”

Loki’s grin was louder than any verbal yes could have possibly been.

-

If he truly loved you back, Loki was guarding the secret like the SHIELD agents were guarding the Tesseract. You decided to make your move the same night before you’d pass on from impatience. Perhaps it was ridiculous to hope that once the Infinity Stone was in your possession, Loki would take you with him wherever he went. Perhaps it was selfish, too and yet, the closer you stepped to the cube, the more you began to despise the very idea of parting ways with the cheeky God of Mischief.

The horrifying thought, ending up alone yet again and losing the man you had fallen in love with, kept you distracted. You had to rely on Loki once he opened a green, shimmering portal to the inside of the facility.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” he whispered into the utter darkness, allowing you to cling to his leather armour as you sneaked through the dark and empty hallways. The guards were positioned around the securely locked room containing a “confidential” object. You could feel it in your very bones. It must have been the Tesseract.

Loki nodded at you once you were close enough. You could barely make out his features but it was enough for a mute understanding. Kill everyone on sight because they will not hesitate to take your life either.

You had murdered many times in your life. It was necessity and raw survival instinct that had made you who you were—what were a few more deaths, now that your freedom was so close you could practically feel it?

Your senses were tingling, your breath shaky. It was then you heard it. Footsteps. Footsteps that did not belong to Loki or you. Bracing yourself for the fight, you clenched your fists, claws replacing your manicured fingernails. There were perks to being a succubus, after all—ripping your foes to shreds was one of them.

“Brother?”

The warm and deep voice, however, let you pause. Tilting your head, you glanced over to Loki whose lips had parted ever so slightly. He took a deep breath, lifting his chin proudly. One heartbeat passed, then another… and then someone turned on the lights.

You squinted in order for your eyes to get used to the sudden change of brightness. You spotted five people blocking your path, one of them you recognised as Loki’s brother himself, if only because he was carrying his beloved hammer. The others, you did not know but you were fairly certain it was the infamous Avengers Loki had warned you about.

“Thor… what an unpleasant surprise,” the God of Mischief mused. You remained silent. They were a bunch of awkward creatures indeed. One of them was dressed in black, wearing sunglasses even though it was night. Strapped to his back was a quiver filled with arrows you doubted only pierced through people’s skin. Another one was wrapped in a red and gold metal suit, with only his face showing through an open hatch. The redhead woman was pointing one of her guns at Loki and the average guy wearing glasses had put his hands in his pockets. The last one was wearing the most ridiculous superhero suit you had ever seen. You raised your eyebrows at them.

“Listen to reason, Loki. You don’t have to do this.”

“Do I not?” He chuckled. “I am not the Loki you fought here in this monstrosity of a city, Thor.”

“Why, because you got a new haircut, dipshit?” The man in the iron suit bellowed.

You, on the other hand, frowned. “Loki, what are you talking about?”

“So it is true then. We were warned about you. I should have listened,” Thor roared all the while the other’s gazes travelled over to you for a moment. “How did you escape the Void?”

“The Void? What’s the Void?” Loki ignored you completely, fomenting your anger.

“How did you know we were here?” he asked instead, possibly stalling. You were unsure what his plan was—but if the Avengers were as smart as he made them out to be, brute force would likely not suffice to beat them, not tonight.

“We had help—a lovely organisation calling itself the TVA. You might have heard of them, Loki. Rumour has it you’ve been causing them quite some trouble,” the man with the ridiculous blue eye mask and stripes and stars on his armour said.

Loki rolled his eyes. “The TVA was no more than a detour on my journey to glorious purpose. I write my own destiny and for that—I will need the Tesseract.”

“Over our dead bodies.”

“With pleasure.”

The redhead kept her gun pointed at Loki. Her expression did not let on a single emotion. “Agent Romanoff,” Loki chided, directing his attention towards her. “You know those bullets will not so much as scratch my skin.”

“I know. That’s why they’re drenched in poison. You might be a god… but she isn’t.” Her threat came too fast for you to react, for in the next moment, Romanoff had already pulled the trigger. The bullet hit you in the shoulder, knocking you back and against one of the metal pillars. You barely registered the pain of your back colliding with it, too great was the stinging and burning sensation of the foreign object in your flesh.

Loki attacked, daggers materialising in his hands. Any moment now, he would slaughter them where they stood—not for you, you weren’t naïve enough to think that—but in order to end this nonsense once and for all, to bring the Tesseract into your possession at last and then get the hell out of here. You’d survive. It wasn’t the first time you had been shot, although… although it was the first time the bullet had been poisoned. You were warm. No, you were hot. You were sweating. Dizzy, you sank to the floor, shaking like dry autumn leaves in the wind. What… what kind of poison was that? How could it have such an effect on you, an immortal being?

“L-Loki… s-something’s wrong,” you choked out. Hoping he’d hear you, you covered your wound with your right hand, your dark-red blood—almost black—staining your palm. Your sight was too blurry to make out the details of the fight, couldn’t make out if Loki had the upper hand. What you did register was him flipping around, concerned… for you. The blow your involuntary distraction earned him sounded painful, lest it was Mjölnir knocking the God of Mischief to the ground. Still—his stunning blue eyes never left yours and they widened when he realised… when he realised… you gasped for air. You might actually die tonight if you didn’t feed soon to heal yourself. Whatever poison this was… the Avengers had been prepared for him, for you both. And they’d had help—possibly from this secret TVA organisation Loki seemed to know only all too well.

“Alright, stop! Stop!” he shouted. Panic was sizzling in his voice, an emotion you had never seen him display in all of your time together. In your delirious state, hope crawled up your guts. Hope that perhaps the God of Mischief did in fact reciprocate your romantic feelings for him. “I yield! I yield! Let me take her away, she needs to feed.”

Loki’s defeat was the last thing your ears were able to process before you succumbed to darkness and fell unconscious.

-

“Thor, listen to me! If you lock her up on her own and don’t provide her with sustenance, she will die.” Loki hurried to keep up with the God of Thunder. The handcuffs they had used on him had been forged on Asgard, blocking his magic and enough of his strength to keep him in check—for now.

“She is a succubus, Loki. Mother warned us about them when we were young. They lure you into their trap and before you know it, they suck the life out of you. It’s good riddance.”

“Brother, please. Let me into her cell then. Let me be with her.” Thor halted so suddenly that the God of Mischief almost bumped into him. It was obvious he was unfamiliar with such strong emotions from him but so was he. Loki had realised the very moment that bullet had hit you that he loved you, truly.

The sheer thought of losing you to death was unbearable, suffocating. For once in his life, he had an equal. Someone who understood his ways, someone who sided with him, someone who had chosen him over Thor. He dreaded what would happen once you would ask the inevitable question and find out who he truly was. But none of that mattered as long as you stayed alive.

-

When you came to, your surroundings had changed. Thick metal walls trapped you inside a cold and sterile room with a metal floor. Somebody had laid you down on a hospital-like bed but there was no blanket, no pillow.

Coughing, you attempted to sit up only to be greeted by a singeing pain tearing through your shoulder. The bullet. The poison. Loki. Loki!

Your eyes darted around the room but you were alone. Where was he? Was he alive? You would skin them alive if they had hurt him…

Terror rippled through you when the cell door was unlocked with a start—the amount of relief you felt when the man in question stepped into your view even overpowering the pain you were in for a moment. As soon as he had slipped inside, the door was pulled shut again—with the sound of the locking mechanism echoing through the small room yet again. Loki did not seem to care. He rushed towards you in an instant, worry evident on his handsome face.

“They will not let me stay with you for long.”

“You’re okay… I thought they… you’re okay…” you mumbled. Loki nodded. “What… What is wrong with you?” You failed to sound reproachful or threatening even though part of you knew the answer to your next question. “Why did you surrender?”

“You would have died had I carried on. I have seen death too many times than I can count, pet. I know what it looks like when it reaches for you. You need to feed. Now.” Loki would not allow any contradiction when he lifted you off the mattress as if you weighed nothing and sat you down on his lap. Green shimmering light surrounded his whole body for the fraction of a second, dancing on his naked skin as his armour melted off of his body, leaving nothing but the shoulder piece with his green cape, the arm pieces and his boots behind.

Arousal surged through you like liquid fire at the sight of him despite the growing weakness of your body.

“I will remove the bullet now. Take a deep breath and close your eyes.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

“One… two…” He did not wait until three before his magic ate through your flesh to pull out the foreign piece of metal in your body. Screaming, you bit down on the remaining bits of his armour, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly you saw stars blinking before your vision.

Whatever spell Loki used on you though eased the pain only the twinkling of an eye later. You sighed when it subsided, making way for the growing hunger in your core. Loki acted on your behalf. His magic took care of your leather trousers and underwear, leaving you naked from the waist down and leaving behind a faint tingling.

He had you ignited within a single heartbeat, heat pooling between your legs, your cunt getting ready to welcome a cock inside for you to feed. With a quiet moan, you ground against him when a tingly sensation spread all over your pussy, an aching reminder that you wanted him, needed him, now.

But you were too weak to even buck your hips up to let him impale you. Was he hard already? Was he… Releasing his shoulder plate at last, you swallowed to chase away the taste of leather and instead, buried your face in his neck. He was. Whether it was the fact you were a succubus and lured men into your bed for your own survival or the effect that you had on Loki, you did not know and now was not the time to ponder over it.

Your breathing hitched when he lifted you once more, this time carefully guiding you onto his awaiting length. Inch by inch, Loki slid inside of you, your wet walls gripping him eagerly. He kept you just high enough to thrust up into you slowly and intimately but changed positions when he realised that you couldn’t take the initiative.

“Am… too weak…” you uttered, your eyes threatening to fall shut yet again. With his cock still sheathed inside of you, he laid you back down on your back, positioning himself between your legs. His blue eyes never left your face when he started fucking you, his strokes more controlled and firmer this time.

It took you longer than usual to feel his energy flow into you like a gushing river, sizzling through your veins and pumping strength back into your body in tune with Loki pumping into your willing cunt. Normally, when you were fucking, your hunt for pleasure and completion had him rutting into you like a beast. Hair was pulled, flesh was bitten, skin was spanked. But this, right now… this was love-making. You did not have enough energy left to prepare your body for an orgasm this time and yet, it felt more intimate and more pleasurable than anything you had ever experienced with the God of Mischief.

“L-Loki…” you whispered, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. “Fill me… please… I need you… t-to cum… in me.”

The way he hovered above you like you were his most prized possession filled you with both pride and satisfaction and as Loki neared his climax, his arousal nearly overwhelmed you. Wave after wave of delicious energy filled you from head to toe, healing your wound and fighting the poison in your blood until you felt your strength returning to you.

You never realised you were moaning when Loki came with a grunt, burying himself as deep inside of you as he physically could. You could feel his member throbbing against you, his hot seed coating your walls.

Loki drew out his orgasm for as long as he could but instead of collapsing on top of you once you had fed, he wrapped his arms around your middle and rolled you both over so you came to rest on top of his naked and sweaty chest.

“Thank you…” You weren’t sure whether you muttered the words out loud. Only there was no time to rest yet, not even after escaping death. “Loki… who are the Avengers, really? Why are they your enemies and why did Thor ask you how you escaped a void? What was he talking about? You are keeping something from me and I don’t like it.”

The God of Mischief sighed—the sound was directly at your ear all the while you drew invisible circles on his exposed skin. He was still inside of you, filling you up, making you feel whole.

“You’re on the run too, aren’t you?” you muttered, inching up a little and leaning your forehead against his in the aftermath. “You’re wanted for murder, you… what did you do? Why did you never tell me?”

“Tell you what exactly? That I attempted to subjugate this very planet? That I manipulated thousands of humans to make me their president, their voice of prudence and wisdom? Or that I failed and was hunted down by brainwashed Variants with prune sticks?”

“I’m not sure what you thought was going to happen if I found out. If you assumed I would be disappointed you were no good and if you thought I’d leave if I knew or if… or if you thought I’d be disappointed you failed. Which one is it?”

Loki took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted. A pause, heavy and suffocating. “The TVA—the Time Variance Authority—controls the multiverse. There used to be only one single timeline. The sacred timeline, they called it. Until there was not. One of my Variants killed the keeper of time to take revenge for her stolen life. Chaos was raging when the TVA found out about the dozens of timelines they could no longer control and annihilate. I’m assuming… they turned against each other, for when they ended up in the Void—it is a place without time, a place where every unwanted reality and their parts go once the TVA prunes them—my people turned against them and stole the one thing that could get us out of there.”

“They pruned you before,” you concluded. Another sigh.

“According to the TVA, a reality where a Loki rules Midgard must not exist. And the Void… the Void is a battle for your life with no way out.”

“I don’t care, Loki. What you did, what you were about to do, even what you’re doing now. I’m not exactly a saint either like the humans would say. I feed on men. I’ve killed to guarantee my own survival and…” you paused, hoping you would not go too far with what you intended to say next, “…and I would not hesitate for a second to be your queen if you did end up ruling Midgard as its king.”

“I must say I am relieved to hear that,” Loki responded with an audible smirk in his voice. “You are mine, pet. I will not allow you to leave my side. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, feeling his seidr tickling over your skin once more to put both your and his clothes back onto your bodies. You whined at the loss of him inside of you, even more so when he turned over yet again to stand.

“Wait here for my sign.”

“What, what sign?”

“You’ll see.” He disappeared with a wink, your lips parting. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three. You started pacing around the cell, not realising until a blue portal opened up right behind you that… Loki had it. He had the Tesseract. How…? Wait here for my sign.

You took a deep breath—and then jumped into the portal.

Loki caught you with ease. His smirk was so triumphant you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, wrapping your arms around him in relief. It instantly got colder here.

“How? How did you do it?”

“Thor. He might be strong but he can be quite dull. Removing my handcuffs was his first mistake. Remaining so persistent on not letting me roam free around the facility was his second. I realised soon enough the Tesseract was not where we had presumed it to be—there was something Thor did not want me to find out. And while I took care of my dying bride, one of my duplicates distracted my brother—another stole the Tesseract for me.”

Surely, it must have been more complicated than that and yet… all your mind could replay on repeat was bride.

“Bride?” you stressed. Loki’s smirk grew even wider but he did not elaborate.

“So where… where are we?”

“Jötunheim, for now. We’re near a friend of mine. She will give us shelter until we have planned our next steps.”

“Oh, will she now?” A woman stepped out of the shadows—she was beautiful, a sorceress without a doubt. Dressed in a long black dress complimenting her raven hair, she crossed her arms before her chest.

“Angrboda… it is good to see you.”

“You too, Trickster. Is there a particular reason for why you bring a succubus to my doorstep?”

Well, you could not blame her for her suspicion. If she took you in and away from the Jötun cold, you would be grateful. Loki introduced you to her quickly, your name rolling off his tongue so deliciously you felt to urge to pounce on him again already. Angrboda shook her head when he proceeded to summarise your situation and eventually nodded in defeat.

“Alright, then. Come inside. I have cherry ale that will warm you up.”

Angrboda’s space was nothing but an open cave, presumably warded through spells and other supernatural means of protection and you assumed that she shielded the parts of her home that she didn’t want you to see with equal measures. In the middle of the room, however, there was a cosy fireplace with dozens of furs spread around it to get comfortable.

“Sit by the fire. Drink, you two… lovebirds,” she said when two cups filled with a red liquid appeared next to the small bonfire. “Only you would manage to fall in love with a succubus, Loki Laufeyson.” She chuckled. “You see… Midgardians call this very day of the year Valentine’s Day. Did you get her chocolate, Trickster? And roses?”

“He saved my life today,” you responded for him.

Angrboda nodded. “Ah, I see. Well… I have a feeling this is only the beginning of the story then.” Giving you a knowing look before disappearing off to only the gods knew where, you smiled at Loki, inching closer to kiss him. Fireworks exploded within you as soon as your lips touched his, the gentle affection quickly turning into a heated fight of lips, teeth and tongue. Angrboda was right. This was only the beginning. Your beginning.

-

A/N: Did that NSFW statue of Loki that I saw the other day inspire the smut scene? No. Maybe. Yes. Absolutely, 100%.

[tightjeansjavi]

Jeany! Congrats on one year, baby!

What can I bring to the sleepover? I have punch and pie at the ready.

You know I’m a Frankie girl thru and thru… but what if he was… drunk and handsy (in the best way possible) and maybe we’re not an item yet… but he’s hella interested and the alcohol makes him brave…

Love a little friends to lovers…

Beefro👌🥩💜

BEEFRO!! my darling, mi vida, thank you for sending this in! I hope it’s okay that we didn’t get smutty with it, and the reader was the one who was a lil drunk 🥺

-

mi vida

~word count: 2.0k~

Summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend and the love of your life.

Pairing | best friend!frankie morales x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, no age gap, language, mentions of drinking and smoking, right person wrong time, best friend!frankie, assumed unrequited love, frankie and the reader are bi, Santi, Will, and Benny exist in this universe but fuck Tom. Me and my homies hate a motherfucker named Tom, happy ending, reader can understand and speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Translations:

mi vida- my life

querida- darling

hermano- brother

nada de eso- none of that

estoy en camino- I’m on my way

no te vayas de ahí- don’t move

voy a intentarlo- I’m going to try

vamos a salir de aquí- let’s get out of here

The bass in the nightclub is booming, pulsing in your ears and rattling your brain in your skull. Your vodka lemonade has practically watered down to nothing—great. To make matters even worse, your favorite pair of metallic heels keep sticking to the floor—gross. There’s too many people packed in this club, too many bodies, and you realize then that this was a terrible idea.

It all started with your stupid boyfriend—ex-boyfriend. He broke up with you over the phone, babbling pathetically about how he met someone else and how sorry he was. Bullshit. You sucked in your tears, and the remaining threads of your dignity and packed his shit up into a cardboard box and tossed it right down the garbage shoot.

Fuck him.

You weren’t even the least bit sad, no—you were furious. You should have known that he was a tool, just another asshole hiding under a ‘nice guy’ persona.

Did I even really love him? You questioned yourself in the mirror while applying a glitter shadow to your eyelids.

You did, but he’s not— You gripped the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection and the smudge mascara streaks under your eyes.

Frankie is too good for me. He deserves better.

Francisco—Catfish, Morales had been your best friend, your ride or die—your Clyde to your Bonnie, since you were kids.

You grew up on the same block and you remember the first day you met Frankie like it was just yesterday.

His mom sent him over to your house, with fresh tamales in a well loved container held between two clammy palms.

“Hey, I’m Frankie. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He said with a small, boyish grin.

He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen, and soon enough your diary was no longer doodles of unicorns, butterflies, princesses and dragons, it was Frankie Morales, and those brown eyes of his.

You walked to school together everyday and soon your duo turned into a little group consisting of three other kids that had become like brothers to Frankie and you.

There was Benny, Will, and Santi; the five of you shared your own stomping ground: the neighborhood playground. And as you grew older…your feelings towards your friends shifted.

You had a minor crush on Santi who found out through Benny and that’s how you ended up going to the movies together one weekend. Santi was a total gentleman, and while you were attracted to him, the butterflies weren’t there. The spark that you dreamed about feeling—was nonexistent. And when he kissed you, your foot didn’t pop up like it did in the Princess Diaries!

Get a room! You’d recognize that voice from anywhere—Frankie.

And low and behold, Frankie, Benny, and Will were all sitting a few seats behind you and Santi who wasted no time to grab a handful of popcorn and toss it at the three of them.

You and Santi decided afterwards that you were better off as friends. Will took you out to dinner once, and the two of you also quickly realized that you were better off as friends.

Benny ended up being your date to the junior prom. It was hard to not be attracted to a guy like Benny. He was smart, funny, and a total goober. He couldn’t dance for shit, but you had fun, and it was definitely going to be a night for the books.

Maybe you and Benny would have ended up together if you hadn’t slow-danced under a shimmering disco ball with Frankie after Benny took a break from dancing. Maybe your heart strings wouldn’t have tugged you in the direction of your best friend, and those big brown eyes of his.

“Are you going home with him, mi vida?” His words whispered against the shell of your ear while one hand rested along your lower back, and the other around your waist.

“Probably” You whispered softly.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t see the way his face fell, and his lips curve into a set frown.

“Good. He’ll take care of you. You deserve to have fun, querida.”

And when the song ended, and Benny returned, you watched your best friend walk away, his arm wrapped around Santi’s shoulders.

It was half-past 5 in the morning when you told Benny about your feelings for Frankie. You were tangled up in his sheets, passing a cigarette back and forth. Benny wasn’t even surprised, he just had this knowing grin on his face.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We all know how you feel about catfish. It ain’t a secret.” He winked at you reassuringly.

-

On graduation night you had built up enough courage to finally tell Frankie how you felt, and after downing a few glasses of champagne for some extra liquid courage, you were ready—until you saw Frankie leaned in close to another girl in your grade, and your heart sank to the very pits of your stomach.

You told Santi how you felt about Frankie later that night while sharing a bottle of champagne on the old rusted swings of the neighborhood playground.

He confessed to you that he felt the same way about Frankie, but he was afraid of ruining their friendship and how Frankie would react.

You reached over, gently grabbing his hand in yours and told him, you should tell him how you feel, Santi.

-

When you went off to college, your four friends enlisted in the military and you weren’t sure if you would ever see them again. Life continued on for you, until you found yourself right back to your roots, and feeling the same way for your best friend as you did years ago. You just did a real damn good job of hiding it from your boyfriend.

So, that’s how you found yourself outside of the women’s bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, the bottom of your favorite heels sticking to the floor, and your thumbnail bleeding because you had ripped out a nasty hangnail with your teeth.

The dial tone rang, and rang and you thought that maybe this was a sign that you and Frankie were never meant to be. That it was all made up in your head, and scribbled in your diary. Maybe Frankie never felt the same way about you as you did for him.

“Mi vida?” his voice crackled on the other line and you imagined he had his hand cupped over his phone so that he could hear you better.

“Francisco,” you breathed, taking a pause as you gathered your thoughts. “I—I need you, Frankie.”

He nearly dropped his phone, lurching forward in his chair from your words. His erratic movements caught the attention of Santi who was sitting across from him in the booth and he raised his brows, mouthing, you okay, hermano?

Frankie was too caught up in the pounding of his heart in his chest, and his pulse racing in his eardrums to even notice Santi or Benny and Will now looking at him.

“Where are you, querida? Are you—safe? I can barely hear you.” Frankie uttered, bringing his thumb to his lips and gnawed on the side of the nail nervously with his teeth.

“I’m at some shitty club. Boyfriend broke up with me—and I ended up here. You don’t have to come, I just—I thought maybe…” you trailed off.

“Nada de eso, mi vida. Is it that same club we tried sneaking into back in highschool? The seedy one?”

“Yeah. The one where the floor is always sticky, and you can still smoke cigarettes.” You stifled a giggle.

“Estoy en camino, querida. Hang tight, okay? No te vayas de ahí.” He said in an urgent tone, gathering up his wallet and keys before he downed the last sip of his beer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie.” You reassured him.

“I know, mi vida. I’ll stay on the line with you, ‘Kay?” He slipped out of the booth just as Santi stood up.

Frankie pulled his phone away from his ear momentarily, holding it against his shoulder as their eyes met.

Santi gave him a knowing a grin, slapping him on the shoulder gently in a half hug, “go get your girl, hermano.”

Frankie hugged him back, wrapping both arms around him before pulling back slightly with a grin slowly tugging over his lips, “Voy a intentarlo, hermano.”

And then there was Benny in the background yelling, “HELL YEAH, CATFISH! GO GET YOUR LADY!”

-

Frankie stayed on the phone with you the entire walk to the club which evidently was only a few blocks away. You were babbling on about how watered down your vodka lemonade was when Frankie had pushed himself through the mass of bodies all sweaty and sticking together. His eyes locked on your familiar face, right where you said you would be.

“I’m here, mi vida.” He whispered into the receiver before ending the call. He didn’t even have a chance to slip his phone into his back pocket when he felt your arms wound around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You smelled like cheap vodka, and flowery perfume that burned the sensitive hairs in his nostrils but he didn’t care.

“I missed you, Francisco.” You breathed into the bare patch of exposed skin on his neck, hugging yourself to him tightly. “I—there’s so much I want to say—and tell you, Frankie.”

“I missed you more than you can imagine, querida. I never—I’m so sorry…about your boyfriend.” He pulled back slowly so that he could get a good look at your face. He expected you to be a heartbroken wreck, but he was met with the complete opposite.

“Don’t be. He was a jackass, and I don’t think he and I were ever compatible.” You shrugged, eyes never leaving his. “I don’t give a fuck about him. I came out here to clear my head, but then I thought about you, Frankie. “Fuck it!” You laughed, choking back an on-coming sob that you weren’t expecting, “I should have just grown a pair all those years ago and told you how I felt! Fuck—do you have any idea just how in love with you I am, Francisco?”

“Mi vida, you’re drunk—you—just went through a break up, and you’ve had a lot to drink—”

She’s in love with me?

“I should have broken up with him a long time ago, Frankie. There’s a lot of things I wish I could have done differently, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it’s always been you, Francisco, mi vida.”

She is in love with me.

Frankie brought his hands up to your face then, gently cradling your cheekbones in his palms. “Hey, hey, querida. It’s okay. Shit, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for any of that. You and I—we’ve always danced around the subject, haven’t we?”

You nodded and brought your hands up to rest along his.

“Santi told me after we enlisted that you were going to tell me how you felt on graduation night and then never did because—the timing wasn’t right then, mi vida. I thought about writing you a letter at some point, but I never did because the last thing I ever wanted to do was hold you back from the life you deserved, querida. All these years I’ve wanted to tell you—”

You cut him off, pulling his face close to yours, “I love you, Frankie” you brushed your thumb across the heart shaped patch in his beard.

“Fuck—I love you so much, mi vida.”

And then you were both surging forward, accidentally smacking one another in the forehead, letting out a synchronized groan of pain before your lips finally met in a bruising kiss. Your foot popped up behind you as drunk club-goers stumbled past yours and Frankie’s passionate embrace.

You came up for air a few minutes later, giggling as you threw your arms around his neck once more and he held you close, swaying with you as if there was a slow song playing.

“Vamos a salir de aquí, Frankie.” You said breathlessly, carding your fingers through the back of his hair having half the temptation to rip off his baseball cap just so you could mess his hair up even more.

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it down to his face and pressed his lips to the outside of your hand, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, mi vida.”

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