#but its stupid expensive for how empty and broken it is

[dollfat]

any arkane fans see the terrible reception to redfall? i followed it on steam bc its so funny

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep. 108: Bad Timing, Tough Choices

Arriving back on the island from their aborted trip, Noemi ran herself a bath, hoping the warm water would sooth her contractions.

Following behind her Luigi grabbed the mail and discovered their bills had arrived. The amount they owed made his blood run cold. He knew at a glance the balance due far exceeded what moving (and decorating) had left in their poor depleted bank account.

He’d just sat down at the computer to try and figure out what to do when Noemi interrupted him. She told him she knew the midwife was expensive, and they’d agreed to wait until she’d been in labor for awhile to call them, but she would feel better if they went ahead and called them now.

Her water had already broken, her contractions were regular, and she was worried about how things were going and how far she still had to go. Maybe it would be best to have a medical professional nearby sooner rather than later to keep an eye on things.

Luigi didn’t know what to say. They already couldn’t pay their bills, and asking the midwife to come over would make that deficit worse for every hour they worked. He did his best to soothe Noemi, offering her a massage and suggesting that they wait just a little while longer.

He gently kneaded her back, wincing himself each time she moaned in discomfort. As he worked his mind raced around in circles, full of recriminations for his stupidity spending all their simoleons and concerns about how he could avoid ruining his loves carefully thought-out birth plan.

When Noemi was all massaged out Luigi led her to the bedroom to “try and rest for awhile”. After tucking her in tight he went back into the study, turned on some music to clear his head, and logged onto the net. He had to find a way to make some quick cash.

He scoured the Llamacorn Listserve for a freelance side job that would bring in what they needed, but there was nothing close to paying enough fast enough. Then, out of nowhere, an entirely different idea occurred to him.

 He’d won the hack-a-thon at Geekcon… maybe instead of finding a job on the venerable website he could hack it?

The listserv acted as a payment processor for many of its one-shot side jobs. He was sure that with access to their systems he could redirect some of those simoleons to his own account to cover their bills.

He would take only what they needed and “report the problem” as soon as they earned enough from their new jobs to return the money.

Luigi wrestled with his conscience in the empty room. The beautiful girl resting in his bed had convinced him he wasn’t evil. Would doing this to save her birthing experience just make things worse later? Would she still love him if he was caught stealing? Did he have any other, less evil, choice?

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[avatar-saiki]

Comforts from the Attic Club Sandwich

CW: Mental health issues, alcohol abuse

POV: Beelzebub

He didn't say anything the first time. Should he have? 

He didn't say anything the second. How was he to know what was okay?

He started to get worried the third time, but he trusted you. He knew you were strong and smart. Why would you ever do something that hurts you?

Mammon did stupid things all the time, and even Asmo would come home a little worse for wear after partying too hard. So why would you be any different? You already helped them all in so many ways, how could he see anything remotely close to weakness in your heart.

But then...

The incidents started to look a little different.

"Whoever's been pilfering my Demonus selection would be wise to come forward before I find them myself," Lucifer warned, glancing pointedly at Mammon. "Some of those vintages were set aside for negotiations as a show of good faith."

"What're you lookin' at me for? I didn't take it."

"Yeah?" Levi chimed in, "How much does a bottle of Demonus go for if it's from the Dubious Era sealed tight and in pristine condition?"

"Um..." Mammon looked up in thought. "Depending on the market it could probably go for 60... maybe 80 thousand?"

Lucifer stood up from the table, "Mammon...."

"W-Wait! No! I didn't take it I swear!"

"If you didn't take it, then how do you know its value?" "I dunno I was just throwin' out a number!"

"Mammon."

"J-Just hold on a second! I didn't-"

Mammon was always quick to recognize when he was fighting a losing  battle and turned on his heel to bolt while Lucifer pursued, an unnerving smile on his face.

Beel would've assumed he'd taken it too, if you hadn't quietly dismissed yourself and snuck off to your room shortly after.

"I think I'm going to go to the kitchen," he said, standing up. "I need a snack."

"What?!" Asmo looked up at him, baffled. "We just had dinner!"

"I know, but I'm still hungry." 

He walked away while Asmo grumbled behind him, "It's so unfair, you can eat whatever you want..."

Eat whatever he wants? Yes, that was true, he could eat almost anything but it wasn't as glamorous as Asmo made it sound. He glanced back behind him, then walked passed the kitchen to your door.

"Hey," he knocked, "Can I come in?"

A frantic scrambling answered, followed by a, "Sorry, I'm changing! Come back later!"

"I need to talk to you," he said, opening the door. "I won't look, I just-"

"Beel, wait-"

You were standing in the middle of your room, tears prickling in your eyes with your arms behind your back.

Hiding something.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and you choked a muffled sob.

"I-I'm fine, don't- don't worry about me I was just..."

"Are you drinking again?" he asked gently, already aware of the scent in the air.

Tears welled up and your lip quivered. "I'm sorry."

He shut the door behind him. "It's okay, I won't tell."

"I'm sorry," You said again, reaching up to wipe your eyes. "I didn't know it was expensive. I was going to replace it I swear."

"I don't care about that," he said, walking over to sit down on your bed. He patted the spot next to him. "I just want to sit with you. Is that okay?"

You sniffled, not moving but at least you weren't trying to hide the bottle from him. 

It was nearly empty already.

"Are you feeling okay? Tipsy?"

"M'a little drunk..." you admitted, another broken whimper escaping your lips.

"I thought humans couldn't get drunk with Demonus..."

You laughed bitterly, "We can't, but Diavolo and Lucifer get a lot of gifts from the human world. I've been switching labels."

"Oh..." He tilted his head in thought, "Well, that'll make Lucifer happy to know I think. Is the Demonus still in his cellar?"

You nodded, trying to smile but broke again. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

He patted the spot beside him again, "Why would I be mad? I just want you to be okay."

You refused to move.

So he'd come to you.

He stood up again and held out his hand, "I know some humans drink for fun, but do they drink if they're hurting too?"

You bowed your head in shame, saying nothing.

"Are you hurting? Can I help?"

Still nothing.

"Are you afraid?"

Finally you looked up at him, eyes swollen and red.

"Beel... I hate my head."

"You... Huh?" he tilted his head, "Why?"

"I hate it so much. Beel, why doesn't it ever stop?"

"I don't understand... I like your head, it's really cute," he tried to smile. "You have such fun things to share with all of us, and it makes me happy to see you smile."

"B...Beel I... I hate it... I hate me so much."

His heart... hurt... hearing that.

"How do I fix it?"

"You can't," you said with a bitter smile. "Trust me, I've tried. Nothing makes it go away, all I can do is try to drown it."

That hurt even more.

"Did I not do enough? Is there something I could do to help you? I thought... I thought you were happy here with us."

You shook your head, "I am, but it doesn't matter. It's my brain. My stupid brain, I can't make the thoughts stop and the nightmares are even worse. Beel I," you hugged the bottle to your chest, crumpling inward, "what's wrong with me?"

He flinched, wanting to dismiss that notion entirely, but...

"I ask myself that a lot too," he murmured, and you looked up at him in surprise.

"What? How?"

He glanced away, "I can't stop myself, no matter how much I try. I've gotten better, but even today I still ate more than I meant to, and I still ate all of Belphie's candy that he had in our room. He didn't get mad at me, but I know he was disappointed..."

You sniffled a soft laugh, "Beel you're the sweetest demon there is, eating some candy isn't that bad."

"No, but..." he looked down at his hands, "I have no control sometimes... and it scares me. My brothers might tease me about it or tell me it's okay, but what if I lost control and hurt them one day? I try, but all I can do is distract myself... or rely on Belphie to help me... I'm supposed to look out for him, not burden him."

"That's different though," you said, "I'm just an idiot who can't even live with my own head."

"Is it really so different?" Belphie asked, surprising both you and Beel. "A lot of us hate the thoughts inside our heads."

"Belphie what're you-"

His twin smirked and walked over to the two of you, "You looked worried so I followed. I wasn't planning on coming in, but then I heard something about nightmares." He closed his eyes and smiled at you, "I could help with that you know, I'm surprised you never asked."

Your face crumpled again, fresh tears starting to build. "I couldn't..."

"I'll have to stay awake," he continued, glancing at Beel, "But if you help me focus I'm sure we could give them a good night's rest."

"I can do that," he said easily. Rest was important, and a good first step to helping you heal. "Where do you need us?"

"N-No, I'm fine, really, I-"

"I'll take care of this," Belphie said, taking the bottle from your hands. "Get them into bed."

"Got it."

"W-Wait, Beel!"

He scooped you up and carried you to the bed to lay you down. You protested, but he hugged you close and held you gentle.

"Belphie's really good at helping me sleep when I feel I've lost control too," he said quietly, "Let us help you."

"I don't need it, I just need..." Your fingers clutched at his shirt, lashes wet with tears. 

"Please I... I don't deserve..."

Belphie climbed into the bed behind you, nestling you close between the two of them.

"No offense, but you can't tell us what you do or don't deserve."

You curled into Beel's chest, whimpering pathetic nothings.

"Hold them close, Beel," Belphie said, reaching up to stroke your hair, "I'll ease them into sleep slowly..."

"Okay," he said, still speaking to you, "Relax now, we've got you. We'll keep you safe."

"I'm not..."

He tucked you closer, shushing you while Belphie traced a gentle circle around your temple. 

"Let me help you," he said, "I want to."

"Mhm~" Belphie hummed, "A restful slumber does wonders for the soul."

"B..."

Whether it was exhaustion or accepting defeat against two demons, he wasn't certain, but your protests finally quieted and your breathing began to slow. Eventually, your body relaxed as your mind gave in and he felt his own tension ease.

"They're dreaming now," Belphie murmured, gently caressing your temple, "I don't see anything bad yet."

"Thank you, Belphie."

Belphie chuckled, "Of course~ what sort of demons would we be if we weren't there for our human in need?"

He always knew just what to say...

"Yeah," he held you protectively. "Yeah, you're right."

Whatever you needed.

He'd be there.

[belit0]

Philharmonics

Inspired by this song

Characters: Uchiha Madara / Senju Tobirama

“Guess who died last night.”

Police Chief Senju lets out a faint, insignificant chuckle as Madara lights what must be his fiftieth cigarette on this freezing night. The local patrol parked outside the gates of the Uchiha Manor, waiting over half an hour for the fucker deigning to let him in.

This stupid and ostentatious palace owned by the black-haired man has a cursed reputation for the townsfolk surrounding it. Everyone is aware of the shady business taking place in the giant, elegant building on the outskirts of the small town, and the police learned better not to get involved with high society affairs.

Everyone but Tobirama.

Witnessing how bulletproof vans came to transit his home after that pair of brothers arrived to stay always made his hair stand on end, and after loitering a lot in matters that didn’t involve him, two of his siblings ended up paying the price.

A family of two long, black-haired men moving to the middle of nowhere in order to make money with a low profile. The Uchiha Mafia proved to be a powerful drug supplier. But every mighty empire has its weak spot, and after the death of his brothers at the hands of this evil one, Tobirama vowed to find it.

He vowed to bring down the Uchiha as they had brought down his family.

“In grey stockings, in all might, Mr. Uchiha. It was no loss.”

Senju’s inner satisfaction grows every second, sensing victory in front of him as Madara’s grip on his cigarette trembles. There are two bottles of whiskey next to the mobster’s expensive armchair, and with just a glance it is clear one is virtually empty, while the other is devoid of its contents.

“The only God of mine...”

It is only a whisper, choked words as Madara bends to his knees and presses the palm of his hand against his face. Never, under any circumstances, would a person of his caliber allow anyone to see him like this, broken, torn, shattered, lost. Since the abrupt disappearance of the only important person in his life, however, there are few things he cares about.

Tobirama tosses a brown folder onto the coffee table in front of the other man, and its contents scatter across the surface. Different photos and reports are shamelessly revealed, showing the rawness of Izuna’s crime scene.

It was he himself who found the bodies of his brothers after searching for days, and no one could have prepared him for that. Since then, Hashirama barely gets out of bed and takes several pills, which seem to take him away from reality rather than helping him cooperate with it. His family was devastated because of the man currently sitting in front of him, and Tobirama wants to strike back just as hard. Let him witness how his younger brother was found this morning, let him see every picture and every angle of that terrifyingly white body.

“He fell down, just to drown.” With a sarcastic laugh denoting any humor, he adds, “As you may see, in a sea of delight... to tame champagne and creatures of the night.”

Such is the mockery in his words were the mobster not so drunk, there would probably be several gunshots adorning his forehead.

Izuna’s tragic end is something that does not surprise anyone at the police station. The boy’s reputation differed from that of his older brother. While one preferred to concentrate on business and money, the other spent what his brother earned.

Izuna Uchiha could be seen leaving almost every night from that vast mansion and returning days later, after what the villagers presumed were outings in the nearest town. The man enjoyed excess, loved alcohol, and really liked the substances his family worked with. Of course, with an older brother like Madara, the overprotectiveness was always present, and it wasn’t until they arrived in this far corner of the world had Izuna sneaked away from home and have fun, returning days later.

Tobirama identified the flaw, discovering his way of tearing the mobster down. How much love and care he showed for his younger brother could be judged on the number of bodyguards the brat carried with him every time he went out.

Approaching him was the easiest thing to do, considering how the Uchiha’s taste lay in the opposite sex. His custodians allowed any male who caught Izuna’s attention to be brought close, and Tobirama passed the test. In the private room of a nightclub, he avenged the death and disappearance of his two brothers, as well as the fading in life of the third of them.

“The water took him over, filled his lungs inside out. He sold your gold, for alcohol and drugs.”

As police head, passing it off as an accidental death was more than effortless. After drowning him, Tobirama cleaned up any evidence of his existence at the scene, and staged the place to make it look like Izuna had overdosed, fallen into the tub of the VIP room when unconscious and accidentally drowned. None of his bodyguards paid any attention to Tobirama’s face or appearance, accustomed to the way their boss behaved.

Loud music from the nightclub drowned out the Uchiha’s screams, and although he put up a fight, his life was snuffed out in the hot tub where he thought he would have sex.

The Senju inadvertently escaped, and it wasn’t until dawn, when the club had to close its doors, Izuna’s security broke down the locked door to find the scene of the crime. If the mob had handled things, there would be no photos or evidence, no case. But the owner of the establishment reported it despite all the threats. Within the confines of his jurisdiction, Tobirama had the perfect excuse to go back and visit his handiwork, feign surprise and displeasure, forcibly mitigate smirks attempting to escape his lips.

---

After visiting his last case victim’s immediate relative’s house, police chief Senju Tobirama was reported as a missing person. Last seen wearing his work uniform, white hair, 6’3" tall and weighing 70.5 kg. Blood type A. For any information, please contact the local police station.

[deathtoyouandtoyours]

Once again, the failed prototype takes a backseat to its creator's magnum opus. That's how it always happens.

A frame, gifted to me for my birthday sat empty because I had no friends and no fun memories with which to fill it.

They were put there instead.

"This is temporary."

It wasn't.

I used to shine so brightly, the brightest star in the sky, blocking out so many others. I was the pride of the galaxy. Now that I'm older, I've burned out and essentially been replaced. I lay here, wasting away with little to show for the time I've spent living.

I was gifted a frame once again. This time, it had something in it. A photo of the stars, the way they were in the sky over the place I was born, on the very night I was born.

Their photo sits on top of mine. In my frame.

How fitting. How poetic.

"Don't act like they're the favorite. Or like they have special privileges."

They clearly are, and they do.

I felt almost numb about it at first. I didn't want to be bothered by it, but I was. The tears fell immediately. I can barely complain about it. It always ends in my words being brushed off or a full blown argument. Never an apology or even an admission of wrongdoing.

How dare you. How dare you do this. It's such a small act, but the hate and disrespect feel earth shattering. I know I'm being dramatic, and it hurts that much more because of it. I know I sound crazy for crying and complaining about it. After all, it's a picture frame. It's not the end of the world. It feels like it, though. I'm literally nauseous.

"You have to toughen up. You can't be a soggy little sad sack."

I don't want to toughen up. People who have to steel themselves often lose their compassion, empathy, and patience. That's one of the many things I hate and fear. Those emotions don't disappear. They only fester and ferment until they bubble over. You could've had juice, and then maybe wine, but no. Now you have vinegar, and you can't just keep trying to hold it in. It will escape whether you like it or not. You can't keep pouring more juice into a full glass and expect it to not spill.

I shouldn't have to toughen up about this. Something so stupid shouldn't be happening in the first place. They knew the pictures were coming. They could've bought a new frame. They aren't expensive.

"His picture is from an achievement. Yours isn't. What do you need the frame for? You have no achievements and you haven't since you were younger."

I wanted to break the frame as soon as I saw the picture. Life has been kicking my ass, and I managed to keep my cool until I came home that terrible night and saw that photo.

Why do I have to be the broken, failed prototype? Why do I have to be defective? It isn't fair.

[byuntrash101]

Baekhyunie don't leave me - Part 6 [END]

barista!baekhyun x fem!reader

mafia!AU | action | angst | smut | nsfw

8.4k word count

abduction, dub con, sir kink, BIG cock, unprotectec sex, dirty talk, really really rough sex, begging, oral (m), orgasm control, impact play, overstimulation, dacryphilia, sadism, breath play, spit play, breedind kink, squirting, creampie

Don’t trust anything in this story. Don’t trust the cute bright cover, don’t trust the handsome playful flirty barista and do not trust the cute innocent timid girl.

Concept song: Bust Your Knee Caps by Pomplamoose.

A/N : there we are guys!! Last part! I'm so excited to be closing down this series after almost a full year of writing it. It ws such a fun and challenging experience for me. But I pulled throught and its all thanks to your support! Thank you so much guys! I hope you enjoy the ending! <333 - Cat

Baekhyunie don’t leave me masterlist | General masterlist

<< Part 5

You don’t know for how long you just let your heart be broken. You didn’t do anything to fix it. You didn’t want to. You spent all day inside crying, letting the gaping and agonizing wound hurt you. You let these images of him torture you, you just let yourself suffer for days. Maybe weeks. 

Until the pain lessened. Gradually the wound became numb and so did your soul. Until you were only a ghost roaming the empty luxurious rooms of your apartment. A tired spirit haunting your own tired body. You are nothing of the person you used to be….An empty shell. A pathetic excuse for the strong woman you were.

But as the apathy settled in the pit of your guts it was slowly molded into something else. As days passed you started feeling like yourself again. day after day you regained your superb. You got back some of that burning passion that characterized you. 

You were never the kind to back down from a challenge. You are the kind of girl that always gets what she wants. And if your devotion and your expensive gifts couldn’t buy Baekhyun’s love, you were determined, even absolutely fixated on changing his mind. By all means and as God is your witness, you will make Byun Baekhyun love you.

And for that you could always count on your family.

It was ridiculously easy getting to know where he lived with his stupid bitch. The only reason why you didn’t know sooner is because you didn’t try. You just trusted him. But you know better now. Your men were experts in tracking, and you sent them the best two to trail Baekhyun’s every move. You came to know every single detail he was keeping from you since the beginning. Baekhyun being the creature of habits that he is, his routines were pretty much easy to spot. It’s almost like that apart from occasionally cheating on his girlfriend with you he never ever does anything unplanned.

You came to know about where he went to the gym, where his parents lived, when his brother would come by to drop off his nephew, every single habitude, your men gave you a detailed report about everything. Including her.

You learned her name, learned about her medical history, her family, her friends. You learned her and Baekhyun had been dating for three years and you learned that in fact he had never loved you. 

This time spent together it was only a way of distracting himself from the routine he had set for himself. With you he saved himself from boredom of the everyday life of the perfect boyfriend that never does anything eventful. Maybe Baekhyun grew tired of the same old boring sex he had with his girlfriend and that’s why he came to you. You were nothing more than that, a bucket for him to dump his cum into. Because one thing was for sure he never, ever, doubted his love for her. Not once he picked you over her. And that was explaining the canceled dates, the late nights booty calls and the secrets. So many secrets that made you doubt that you ever knew who Baekhyun really was. But all that didn’t matter because you did now. You knew him. Better than his own mother. And it was time he came to know the real you too.

An eye for an eye, the mafia way.

***

“Come downstairs we need to talk”

That’s the simple message you texted him while you were waiting in the black van parked in front of his apartment building in downtown Seoul. The building resembled many of the same sorts here. Middle class people like him couldn’t afford anything better than these one-room, maybe two if they were lucky, appartements. You thought as you looked over each window that was lit at this late hour that maybe one of those was him, watching TV or maybe taking a shower before bed or maybe even balls deep in this bitch. Your slenders fingers balled into a fist around the device before it vibrated.

“Who’s this?” the message read. You chuckled.

It’s true… You almost forgot… Officially you never got this number but getting your hands on it was incredibly easy.

“🍭” You simply replied, feeling bitter sweet. This nickname you thought to be adorable only turned out as another way to keep you a well graded secret. The cute emoji was just that, another secret because you didn’t even deserve to have a name.

“How did you get this number?” This time the reply was a lot quicker. A smirk found its way on your lips as you imagined Baekhyun's fingers trembling while holding the shitty phone he could barely afford. 

You were not here to play around and quite frankly after months of hiding you were sick of it. Fed up.

You sent a simple picture. But it spoke a thousand words. It was louder and more persuasive than any poetic and larmoyant speech you could ever write or say.

A positive pregnancy test.

You were certain of the effect this simple picture will have on Baekhyun so you joyfully hopped off the car into the pouring rain of fall and rushed yourself in the hallway of the building. You waited there, by the numerous mailboxes of all the destitute people living here, stacked like rats in a sewer. 

The building was even more seedy from the inside. The ugly dirty green carpet in the hall reeked of humidity and mold, the elevator that hadn't been replaced since the early 70’s didn’t really inspire trust but neither did the old staircase with the filthy steps and flickering lighting. But still you heard rushed footsteps coming from the ominous staircase and you couldn’t help but to smile, your heart couldn’t help but to race, you couldn’t help but to be happy. Because you were going to see him again.

And finally he emerges from the corner. He looks exactly like he did the last day you saw him. Well not exactly, his blond hair is messed up and he traded the brown apron for a pair of comfortable gray sweatpants and a black oversized t-shirt but he looks just as handsome, just as enticing, just as perfect.

“What the fuck is this about, y/n?” his voice, that he tried to keep as quiet as possible, resounds in the unwelcoming hall. You missed the sound of his voice so much.

“Hi, Baekhyun” you respond simply, but your calmness seems to ignite the exact opposite emotion in Baekhyun.

“Listen, I want to give a second chance” you start, maybe you got weak when you saw his angelic face, maybe you were reminded of all the love you felt for him. But you couldn't bring yourself to yell at him. 

“Are you pregnant?” he whistled, through gritted teeth, voice getting cold and eyes growing somber, maybe even as dark as the poorly lit hallway. 

You hesitated for a second. You wanted to lie and say yes but this solution was only temporary so you decided to go against your plans.

“No…”

“What?” he exclaimed in disbelief and confusion.

Of course the test was a fake. Despite you were never once before on birth control and the countless times he finished inside you over the course of the last six months. You never actually got pregnant. But you could have! It was plausible, believable and that was what mattered.

“That was just to lure you out here with me” you clung onto his arms, craving a physical type of affection. “Listen, I know we can go together, you and me” you start with stars in your eyes, looking up at the blonde man. “Let’s go on a date right now let’s try to sort things out okay?”

“Are fucking batshit crazy?” he says violently pushing you away. You never saw such burning anger in his eyes, not even that night he thought you were out cheating with Chanyeol. Turns out he was the cheater all along. This thought gives the memory of this night a bitter taste and Baekhyun’s anger spreads to you.

“YES! YES I AM!” you start to yell in the lobby. “WHY CAN’T YOU REALIZE THAT I WILL LOVE YOU MORE. I WILL LOVE BETTER THAN HER. SHE’S JUST A BITCH. SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE YOU BUT I WI-” you turn quiet when Baekhyun firmly grab you by the arm, slender fingers harshly digging in your skin and leaving five interlaced bruises around your limb.

“Shut the fuck up you stupid fucking skank” he spits between his pinched lips. “Now you’ll listen to me carefully” as if it’s even possible his grasp around your arm gets tighter. “There’s no ‘us’! They never was. My girlfriend was abroad for a couple of weeks and I got bored and horny. Turned out I liked having fun with you so I kept you as a toy a little longer but I eventually got bored of you” you eyes started to prickle with tears. “Stop bothering me and my girlfriend i don’t want to see you ever again”

One single tear spilled out of your eye but you promised to yourself it was the first and last one of the night when you heard the biting and poienous words his mouth spat next.

“Do you love her?” your trembling voice got caught in your throat.

“I do not love you. I never have and never will.” 

That was the last dagger through your heart. Words so hateful, tone so hostile that it turned you back into the ice queen you were six months ago. Swallowing back your tears as your face gradually turned as cold as Baekhyun’s.

You humed in disappointment. Baekhyun picked the change in your attitude right away and his fingers gradually lost their hold around your arm. You started to laugh, with an open mouth, a laugh that had no humor, no happiness, no warmth. A laugh that chilled Baekhyun’s bones. Confusion started to spread on his face like a drop of ink in clear water. When your reddened eyes met his dark brown eyes there was no trace of sorrow left. 

No more cute and frail little girl. The play was done. Closing act. Curtain.

Once the mask was dropped only the real you was looking back at him. For the first time Baekhyun saw the fearless mobster, the murderer, the blood thristy monster that was always lurking over your shoulder every time you played the doe-eyed, submissive and naive rich girl.

“I really didn’t want to have to do it this way” you said looking at him dead in the eyes wearing that same cold smile. “But you leave me no choice”. Baekhyun frowned, jaw hanging loose in a state of shock and incomprehension. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? You are fucking crazy” he whispered this time. You chuckled.

“You have no idea how right you are. I’m fucking insane.”

“Boys come get him”.

The next 15 seconds unfolded very fast for Baekhyun. Before he could realize 5 guys rushed in the lobby. While one was placing a bag over his head, the other was covering his mouth. He didn’t get the chance to run or scream or even protest and he was striked on the head with a long metal bar, knocking him out on the spot.

Everything fades to black as his consciousness slips under a veil.

“Good night my love”

***

When Baekhyun comes back to his senses his vision is blurry. Blinding lights shine directly onto his face. He tries to bring his hands to shield himself from the light but he realizes his hands are bound behind his back. Slowly his eyes adapt to the brightness. 

What is this place?

It looks like a warehouse, the ceilings are high and the ground is plain bare concrete. In front of him there’s a small round table with a white linen table cloth, two sets of plates along with fancy silverware.

“You finally woke up Honey” you say as you smile adorably at the half conscious man in front of you.

“Where are we?” he asks, squinting, looking around slowly.

“We are on this date I told you about!” you replied cheerfully. “Look! I got all dressed up for you!” you stood up from your chair and did a little twirl in your burgundy red dress. The fit was simple, a burgundy red dress that was ankle length and a slit on the side. You knew you looked ravishing with your luscious hair swaying on your shoulders and minimal make up.

Baekhyun looked at you up and down, still confused.

“You’re a little undressed but it’s okay I guess.” You said pointing at the gray sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. “You still have your handsome face” you smiled at him once more.

“Where are we?” Baekhyun asked once more, confusion still painted on his face “Why are my hands tied?” he asked, trying to pull on the ropes. But you ignored him and kept on rambling.

“I had the best Italian chef in all of Seoul make us a nice, hearty serving of the best authentic ragù alla bolognese” you lifted the lid off the stainless steel pot that was placed in the middle of the table “Well… Second best italian chef in Seoul because I killed the best one”. 

Clearly Baekhyun was not listening to you, he was looking around and pulling on his restraints trying to break free which didn’t worry you because you knew it was useless. But still… It was irritating.

“WHERE ARE WE?” he started screaming at you, which was extremely rude. But since he insisted so much on getting answers…

“Fine!” you said as you sat back down. “No need to yell!” That caught Baekhyun's attention and he stopped squirming on his chair for a moment. 

You opened your arms at your sides in a grand gesture.

“Welcome to the family warehouse” you said dramatically. “Where most of the business is conducted”

It was only now that Baekhyun fully acknowledged his surroundings. He saw countless plastic bags filled with white powder in wood crates. Some were open and spilling out, some other crates were tightly shut. Baekhyun also notices the blood splatter on the ground and various empty cartridges. His heart started to race in his chest, his breathing got irregular and hectic, his head was spinning and beads of cold sweat started to pearl on his forehead.

You can’t help but to let an evil smile run on your lips as you see the man before you gradually slip into panic. Handsome features beautifully contorted into anguish.

“Do you remember Baekhyunie? That is the family’s core business. We’ve been doing this in our clan for centuries” you started to pace around him. “Drugs, firearms trafficking, prostitution and murder” your hand brushed over one of the closed of crates. “And we are damn good at it. But I must say I’m the best.” you cooed at him while you gently caressed his cheek with cold fingers. Baekhyun stiffens as soon as he feels the cold glide on his cheek, he rips his face off your reach, shooting you daggers through his brown eyes. But you only chuckle.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” 

You go back to your seat and plate a generous serving of spaghetti for your lovely guest and yourself. Right when you’re about to shove a fork full in your mouth you realize Baekhyun is still bound.

“What was I thinking ?” you chuckled again. 

You stood up and put the leg on the side of the slit forward. With care you started to brush your hand on your thigh. From your knee to your hip, pushing the thin and soft fabric aside and completely opening up the slit. You smirked when you saw Baekhyun’s avid eyes follow your fingers’ glide on your smooth skin and thickly swallow when the slit was just high enough to suggest you weren’t wearing underwear. You scuffed. Even in this situation he was still a randy dog. 

Around your thigh was a leather harness that held a small knife. You took it in your palm and let the fabric fall back on your leg, concealing yourself from him. Immediately his eyes shot back to yours. You walked around to stop right behind him. You stuck the blade onto one side of his neck while you bent down and brought your lips to the other side. You let your lips brush against the thin skin of his neck. You exhaled and your hot breath lifted goose bumps on his skin.

“Don’t do anything stupid ok?” you whispered in his ear. Which he responded to with a quick nod.

With a sharp movement you cut the restrained and set him free. Instinctively, Baekhyun rubbed the painful marks in his wrists. You walked back in front of him.

“However, you do understand that as you are a compulsive liar and a fraud I can’t really trust you right ?” Once again he looked back at you, puzzled.

“Boys!!” you called out and immediately ten men came rushing from the double door of the warehouse. All tall and armed to the teeth. But one stood out for Baekhyun, he as significatively taller than the rest and seemed bigger. But most of all his expression was menacing. While the others looked straight ahead like well trained guard dogs this one was staring at him and his eyes held so much resentment and bitterness. He peered at him like one would at his nemesis, however Baekhyun was sure they had never met before.

“Baekhyun, meet Chanyeol. Chanyeol this is Baekhyun”

Chanyeol looks back at the seated man with a blank face but Baekhyun finally understands that is the guy you ran off to that fateful night. 

“Now eat” you order pointing your chin at the plate of food getting cold.

“I’m not hungry” Baekhyun spit looking right at you, eyes ignited with dormant, controlled anger. You start to laugh. Even after all this, this boy surprises you again. He’s clearly not in a position where he can demand or refuse anything but still he chooses to be difficult. He’s clearly not afraid of you and you love that even more about him. You could kill him right now but he knows better. He knows you love him too much.

You give Chanyeol a small nod and he immediately steps out the circle to hold Baekhyun down. The taller man grabs his jaw and forces his mouth open. Baekhyun struggles and protests trying to slip out of Chanyeol’s grip but it's in vain. You manage to delicately spoon into his mouth some of the delicious meal in front of him. Right when Baekhyun is about to spit the food out Chanyeol closes his jaw back, forcing the blonde man to swallow with pain.

You just smile adoringly at him. Even like this you can’t help but let your heart sing for him. 

“Isn’t it delicious?” you ask while Baekhyun shoots daggers at Chanyeol to which he responds with a sufficient smile.

Even if Chanyeol never dared to put it into words he always had a thing for you. And it happened that he considered himself a way better fit for you. He was stronger, taller, knew the ropes of the job, had a trusting relationship with your family and he knew he was the suitor chosen by your father. And the most important part he liked this ruthless part of you, he loved the way you could skin a man alive and find joy in it. He liked the way your eyes lit up when you held a man’s life at the end of your canon. He was the one for you. A mobster for another. Not this insignificant commoner who doesn’t even realize how lucky he is that you look at him with those enamored eyes. A gaze that should only be for Chanyeol…

The tall man undertook the initiative to force feed Baekhyun once again but with just a simple disapproving look he stepped back like a well behaved little doggie. Baekhyun then took the engraved silver fork in a tight grip that made his knuckles white and brought some food to his lips.

“You know… The first time I laid my eyes on you I knew…” you started as you rolled a meat ball across your plate. “I knew you were the one my heart chose but you know I saw you as unapproachable and I was truly fine with that. I was going to keep being your customer and only admire you for afar. Even seeing you like this was enough for me if I could just be around you for a couple of minutes”

Baekhyun holds his breath only chewing very slowly.

“But then that day that you stepped in my direction I thought my heart would burst into flames. I got a taste of you, of how it was to be someone that you liked, someone that you loved. Even if I know now that it was all a lie… still it’s something nobody can take from me…. This feeling, this memory it’s mine forever.”

You look absentmindedly as the beautiful deep red of the glass of wine in front of you, reminiscing of this first time in the golden hours of the café as the pedestrians were hurrying home….

“But this was my breaking point. I went too far on that road with you and I just couldn’t bring myself to be without you… So I made up this little stratagem to bring you out of your cave…” you chuckled humorlessly as you pictured him curled up on the couch watching tv with her. 

“You’re crazy” Baekhyun exhales in one sort breath as he looks at you.

“Don’t you get it by now?” You slam your fist on the table which makes the plates and gaudy silverware clatter. “The exotic getaways, the fancy dinners, the expensive gifts, this fucking watch” you agressvely point at the Rollex around his wirst as you list with cold, dormant anger all of the pricey beneficts Baekhyun profited from while going out with you….

“All of this” you spread your arms and look around the place. “All of it was bought with blood, cocaine and hookers. With dirty fucking money!!” you swipe the table sending the plates and food to the ground in a grand cacophony, shattered glass and tomato sauce covering the floor.

Baekhyun was the only one shivering, you and your men on the other hand were used to your fits of rage.

“Of course at first I took you for an unsuspecting handsome boy that didn’t know what he got himself into. I thought that for your sake I’d better keep your innocence shielded but as time went by I knew I could make you into someone… Someone who could run this family."

You stepped around him slipping a cold finger onto the warm skin of his nape then across your bottom lip, as if you could taste his warmth. 

"Do you remember that night?" You asked. Baekhyun stayed silent but as you looked at him he finally spoke up.

"What do you mean ?"

"That night I left you at my apartment to help Chanyeol?"

Baekhyun's back stiffened at this memory as Chanyeol's ears perked up at the mention of his name. You smirked.

“See I knew you remembered!” Baekhyun averts his eyes.

“That night I had the absolute certainty that you were going to be the perfect match for me and for our family.”

You sigh as you stand right in front of him and put your hand on his knees, slowly dragging your palm up the gray sweatpants and his robust and thick thighs to his groin. As your hand progresses you feel Bekhyun’s thigh getting more and more tense. Only to make his hips jolt forward when you finally reach his hardening cock. Instantly your eyes go to his to hopefully catch a glimpse of a softening expression but you only find the same unyielding and bitter orbs looking back at you, eyebrows knitted and lips pinched in a resentful expression that makes you smirk even wider.

“And now I’m even more convinced than before… A man so cold hearted that he would even fuck a girl he hates this much…” you direct your gaze to his crotch that has become fully hard under the constant teasing of his sensitive area. Only gently glazing your finger over his hard on never giving him the satisfaction of applying any kind of pressure. His cock is even slightly twitching, gray sweatpants making it oh so very easy to look.

Somehow his eyes seem to darken even more, but you can’t tell if it’s from blatant contempt or carnal frustration.

“Why the long face, baby?” you coo in his ear as you feel an almost imperceptible twitch on his cheek pressed against yours. “Is it because you hate me?” you make a long pause to allow Baekhyun to respond but he chooses to stay silent. “Or is it because you want this” 

With that you finally grip your fingers around his hard cock, the poor thing has been in so much need for attention that you feel that he has already made his loin slightly dampened, making the gray sweatpants somewhat darker. As you press your fingers and rub his length from base to tip you hear him take in a shaky breath and for a split second you see his eyes roll back. He tries so hard to hold himself back but you know his body by heart and he can’t hide anything away from you, at least not anymore.

“Or maybe it’s because you feel a little bashful in front of such a crowd?”

With a gesture of the hand you command your men to leave you two alone; they all execute themselves, even Chanyeol who decides to glare one last time at Baekhyun before closing the doors behind him.

“Finally some privacy” you exhale in relief before immediately putting back on the same mischievous smirk. You are quick to return to business. You crouch down, scraping your knee on the cold concrete floor but the adrenaline and excitement keep you from feeling any pain.

With extreme slowness you decide to carefully pull on the waistband of the sweatpants, the usually ample and comfortable piece of clothing now really seems to restrain Baekhyun. The fabric is under a lot of strain as it seems Baekhyun’s huge cock keeps on growing before your amazed eyes. So you’re more than happy to relieve him. As you roll the fabric down on his hips, his cock finally springs free -well apart from his boxers- and the alleviation of this unbearable tension has him biting hard his bottom lip.

Your intuition is confirmed when you finally peek at his completely soaked underwear. The visible dark gray wet patch is even more consequent than what you anticipated and you can’t help but to feel amused when you see it. You take so much joy in torturing him. You enjoy seeing him unable to resist you even after all this. You might have to still figure things out in regards to his heart but you know how to make his body respond to you.

You peel off the damp underwear to finally uncover Baekhyun’s raging cock. You see him lightly jump when the cool air hits his blazing hot and wet tip which makes you chuckle. 

“You became so sensitive Baekhyunie! How cute!”

You grab the length at its base and keep it straight into the air. You bring your face close and start by lightly kissing the wet tip. When you look up at Baekhyun, he seems to be in pain, eyebrows furrowed, hand firmly planted on his hips. So you decide to show mercy and finally wrap your warm lips around his tip. Your eyes flutter close as the familiar salty taste spreads in your mouth. You missed him so much. You missed his thick cock so much. You hum in satisfaction, the sounds vibrating Baekhyun’s cock in your mouth.

You adroitly swirl your tongue around his tip, hungrily gathering and tasting as much precum as humanly possible, rejoicing in the countless memories the delicious flavor brings back. Once you dry out the source it’s time to make more so you start to take your mouth up and down his girth making slurping noises all across his length.

Baekhyun is being a lot less vocal than usual, you only hear him breathing in and out shakily, trying his best to not moan and growl like he can do it so beautifully and he’s succeeding. You must admit you miss the dirty talk, the hair pulling and the pleasured groans but it’s okay for now… in time you know he will give in.

You suck on his cock some more and Baekhyun digs his nails in his hip still trying to not make any noise of pleasure apart from the occasional sharp gasps. You put one hand on his balls, fondling them while your tongue gives a little more attention to his tip, popping the length outside your mouth in a lewd noise to lick around his tip, harvesting more and more hardearned delicious and intoxicating pre cum.

The taste goes to your head and makes your center quiver and your guts stir in bliss. Your underwear starts to clam to your folds as it is being soaked to the point where your slimy juices pierce the fabric to form long strings linking you to the concrete ground underneath you. You do your job with such passion and drive and that you bring both of you to the brink of insanity. Both filled with compelling desire.

You stand back up. With one swift movement you slip out of your burgundy red slitted dress. Your breasts standing proud on your chest, nipple hardened by a desire that possesses you. As you stand before him, Baekhyun drinks in your form, eyes darting between your soaked lace underwear, your beautiful breasts and your shiny and silky thighs glazed in your love juices. 

Baekhyun doesn’t budge an inch when you approche to straddle him. You take his wrist in your fist and place his hand on your lower back before leaning on his chest to whisper in his ear.

“Hold that to the side for me” you murmur, hot breath hitting the tip of his ear and making the hairs his nape stand up. 

There is a motionless and silent moment. For a second Baekhyun doesn't move. He thinks about what this decision will cost him… he thinks about her. But he knows he doesn't have a choice but to do what you tell him to. Because if he doesn’t… you could hurt him right ? Yes! He has to do it. 

That is exactly what he tells himself when his large palm caresses your rear to hold on to the string and push your panty line to the side, making way for his large cock to penetrate you. 

With that you grab his length into your hand and guide it to your entrance, circling your clit with the tip, gathering wetness and slowly, you lower your hips. 

You bite your lip as you moan all the way down, feeling the scolding hot length deliciously parting you. Boldly making its way inside you, taking your body over as its righteous place. And fuck yes you are convinced of it. It is its righteous place. He feels so good inside you, you find yourself wishing he would never slip out again. 

Baekhyun on the other hand still holds on. He manages not to let another noise slip his lips as your tight cunt welcomes him back in its warm embrace. Sure he can control his voice but he cannot be so proud of his abilities to control his expressions. His furrowed eyebrows marking a deep crease on his forehead and his agape mouth give in on the unbearable pleasure he has to endure.

You, in contrast, make no effort to restrain yourself. Why would you ? You have been dreaming of the day he was going to be inside you again for so long. And it was finally happening. It was like coming at last after a long day. That's how comfortable you felt with him.

Once you link both of your hips together and his tip gently kisses the bottom of you, you can’t help leaning your head back and moan loudly as you focus only on the pleasure he makes you feel with just one simple stroke. And you smirk while you feel Baekhyun’s fist tighten on your lower back, holding on for his dear life onto your thong. 

“Yes that’s it. Hold it like this so I can…” You say as you firmly plant your heels on the ground making sure you have good balance and support. And very slowly, almost painfully so, you pull your hips up, carefully gliding along his shaft until only the very tip is still nested inside you. Only to smash yourself back down. This time the brutal penetration has you squealing in blissful pleasure. And the pleasurable sensation only makes you hungry for more. 

You set an unforgiving pace as you bounce yourself up and down, filling the large warehouse. Each of your moans and each of Baekhyun’s shameful sharp breaths bounce off the high ceiling. 

“Fuck” you cry as you feel the familiar tigling building up in your core, knot growing tighter by the second, your pussy squeezing him as you near your high.

But then Baekhyun’s hand which was until then staying put at his side, flew to your waist maintaining you immobile his bulging cock deep inside you, unable to raise your hips once more for the final blow, in just one single and strong grip, finally putting a stop to this hellish carousel. 

You exert a disappointed sigh as your cunt twitches in frustration arounds Baekhyun’s big hard cock. 

“Why did you stop?” you ask pouting slightly.

“I don’t want to… do this” Baekhyun struggles to reply through gritted teeth. Every word intersected with painful groans that testify of his state of frustration. He’s been flirting with the edge for a while now. First the way you sucked him off with drive and passion and now your tight cunt violently smashing on his length, crushing his dick with incredible tightness. There’s no way Baekhyun can hold on and he knows it but he refuses to give up.

You see this determination in his eyes. The will to fight the primitive urges of his flesh, the will to fight you. You chuckle slightly as you delicately wrap your hand around his nape and lean in to sensually kiss his neck making your way up to his ear.

“Baekhyunie…” you coo “don’t you get it by now ?” you place your other hand on his which is maintaining your waist down on his cock and one by one you peel each one of his fingers off, he doesn't oppose much resistance.

“You cannot fight this.” You raise your hips up again but this time much slower. “You cannot go back to your previous life. You kissed that goodbye the day you fucked my mouth in the café” you arch your back and sink back in on his hard cock, twitching and throbbing inside you. 

“But…” He struggles under you. But you kiss him to shut him up, slipping your tongue inside his mouth, and playfully swirling your tongue on his, his heavy and hot breath fanning your cheeks and even slipping the tiniest of moans. You take a step back to look at his face. He’s flushed out, eyes drooping in pleasurable frustration but also mixed with incomprehension and confusion. He doesn’t know where he stands anymore. He’s starting to forget what he’s fighting for.

“Shhh” you shush him, laying one delicate index finger on his plump and swollen wet lips. “You cannot go back to her… Ever”. Your hips keep on going up and down very slowly, the proposed pace is not meant to give pleasure but pain, frustration. It’s meant to finally chop off that last strand of sanity that ties him up to her, to his past. You’re is present and you’re is future.

“Please…” he breathes in your ear. You can’t help but to smirk knowing how close you are to winning him for good.

“Don’t you remember that night ? I came back smelling like fire… I remember how your eyes filled with a cold anger and desire how that smell triggered you. To this day you still don't know what that smell was, right?”

Baekhyun would look confused if he could wipe off that pained look off his face because he has now idea why your train of thought brought back this memory but his cock and himself are submitted to so much unbearable pleasure that he can only manage to shake his head as a response.

“It was gunpowder and blood… That was the smell that made you this horny.” Baekhyun was confused…

Was it really ?

“Do you remember how you played me like a game just to get what you wanted… Abusing the trust and love of a naive virgin girl just to have a laugh?” You wrap your hand around his cheeks to make him look at you.

“Face it. You are a monster. You are not different from me. A perfect fit for this family. I know it.” This time you smash back violently earning a low pained groan from Baekhyun. 

“Fuck… you…” he growls, eyes half closed, trying his best not to burst.

“Come on Baekhyunie… I know you have it in you. Don’t you want to make me pay ?” you lick the shell of his ear metal taste of his earring spreads in your mouth. You lift your hips up again even slower now. “Don’t you want to make me feel how much you fucking hate me right now ?”

His eyes are filled with such contempt. Such hatred that it makes your heart flutter you can’t shake the feeling that right now if he had the occasion he would just end you. And that makes you so happy. Slowly but surely he’s becoming you.

“Sir…” The word makes him shiver. “take revenge on this cunt. Fuck me hard for ruining yor life and for being the worst misake you ever made”

Suddenly you feel Baekhyun’s grip on your underwear tighten to the point where you feel his balled fist tremble on your lower back and all of a sudden with extreme force he rips the thin piece of fabric off of you. Symbolically ripping from the chains of guilt he still felt somehow, ripping away from yesterday and embracing tomorrow. 

In one rotation he managed to flip you over and slammed your body on the white cloth table, sending his almost full plate of spaghetti to the ground along with his glass of red wine, spilling the red liquid on the ground like blood. One strong palm on your nape keeps your cheek nice and pressed against the white linen of the table.

“Yes that’s it baby” you smirk, lifting your squeezed cheek.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking whore” Baekhyun spits at you firmyly pressing on your nape.  Even if you’re unable to see his face you know exactly what type of furisome state he is in. “And it is Sir for you” He says in this familiar authoritarian tone that makes your soaked pussy quiver in anticipation.

You can’t help your heart to flutter when you hear the fateful word. Finally he’s back, he's back to you but this time it’s forever. You’ll never let him go again.

“Yes Sir” you promptly reply, desiring nothing more but to be a good girl.

“Why did you have to anger me like that, whore ?” he growls as his hot and wet tip smoothly glides against your folds. You let a moan slip out of your lips when he hits your swollen clit.

“I’m sorry Sir.” you mechanically reply. Baekhyun scoffs.

“I don’t think you really are though. I think you're just saying that.” He gathers your wetness alongside your thighs and then aligns himself with your center.

“All of that for my cock” he starts to push in very slowly, you’re already stretched out and cock-straved little pussy has no trouble welcoming him back inside you. You exert a sigh of relief and you feel the delicious pull on your walls. But he only pushes in the first couple of inches before he stops. You start to struggle in protest, only wanting to be filled to the brink by him.

“Please” you whine.

“To what a extend a bicth like you can go just to have a taste of my fat cock?”

“Please Sir i’ll do anything” you beg, wiggling your ass up in the air like a bitch in heat.

“Yeah I figured” Baekhyun tightens his grip on your nape, pushing your face further on the table, shutting you up on the spot. “Lying to me about this fake ass pregnancy, abducting me and taking me hostage here…” without a heads up his other hand slaps your ass with all his might, the sound of the powerful impact bouncing off the high ceiling and resonating in the grand space. You can’t help but to scream at the unexpected pain. 

You bite your lower lip and the pain gradually lessens but then another strike comes in. Even sharper this time. You whine again, your eyes filling up with tears as his dick is still barely hanging of your pussy. The anticipation of more pain from his unforgiving hand on your raw ass and the frustration of the long awaited pleasure from his divine girth inside as you completely soaked, large droplets of juices crashing on the concrete ground below you and running down the table cloth. 

“Please Sir, I did that so you would love me again…”

“Don't talk about love, slut” he slaps your ass again, one tear spilling out your eye, burning your squelched cheek. “You don’t know what it is. And it just so happens I can't remember either.”

With that he finally thrusts inside you, you are totally caught off guard as his massive length rails you, ripping your tiny cunt apart. You moan aloud, already feeling drunk on the mixed up and indistinguishable pain and pleasure. 

Baekhyun sets a haineous pace, completely ravaging your pussy along the way. You can’t help but to moan in bliss as you finally hear him enjoying himself, plying growls and groans. 

He lets go of your nape as your body is shaken by each violent thrusts to opt for a tight grip on your hair. He firmly maintains you in place and he smashes his hips inside you. Gradually you feel yourself  coming closer and closer to the edge for the second time of the evening. 

But then again Baekhyuns slows down to come to a complete stop. This time there’s no disappointed sigh but an irritated growl of frustration erupts from your lips. If you weren’t fearing his reponds so much you could have cussed him out.

“What’s that, baby? Were you going to cum?” You only whine in response. “Aww. I wanna see that.”

With that he flips you over with impressive force, managing to flip your body over on the table, knocking off the rest of the silverware and plates that clatter on the concrete floor.

“I wanna see your disappointed cute little face.” He huffs as his avid eyes finally land on you.

He smirks at the sight. You are a complete mess. Hair tangled up in knots, face flushed beetroot red, wet eyes on the verge of tears and pussy shapeless and swollen, twitching from so much pant up frustration.

“Would you look at that ? What a beauty you are” Baekhyun murmurs as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to see you more in pain like this” He says, not caring anymore if his sadistic tendencies show through. He doesn't want to hide this part of himself anymore. Maybe you were right, maybe he was hiding a monster all along… Maybe it was time to let it out.

“Please Sir… Fuck me again” you beg squirming on your back your four limbs in the air and legs widely spread like an animal, feeling no shame in exposing your tits and cunt to him. Baekhyun chuckles, he likes to see you struggle. He starts to draw small but rapid circles in your clit with his hot tip. You arch your back at the delicious sensation on your heat that has become overly sensitive from all this teasing. 

“You want this cock, right?”

You moan in response trying to make it go inside you by moving your hips around. But Baekhyun doesn’t like it when you don’t use your words.

He slaps you across the face, leaving the burning red imprint of his large palm on your rosy cheeks. You look back at him with round eyes in total surprise. Not expecting such a powerful strike on your face… Even when he fucked you relentlessly he was always somewhat gentle with your face…

“I asked you a fucking question, whore!” His eyes are cold but his little satisfied smile gives in on how much fun he has while torturing you. 

“Yes I really want your cock Sir”

“You would do anything for it right ?”  he asks as he presses a little harder on your aching bundle of nerves.

“Yesss!!! I would die for it!” you affirm.

“Then… fucking…” he aligns himself with your dripping heat “TAKE IT” he growls as he thrusts inside you with such power that it jerks your whole body upwards almost knocking the whole table over. 

Immediately he goes back to this destructive pace, making his earring frantically shake and pulling your already worn out cunt inside out as you scream in pleasure, not having a care in the world for the indiscreet ears of your henchmen guarding the doors just outside the warehouse. 

“Look at your fucking lewds tits bounce everywhere. Such slutty tits you have” With that he slaps your breast repeatedly until your skin is marked and burning. Making your eyes just spill out tears of confused pain and pleasure. You are so hungry for this treatment. You want him to abuse you even more. You want him to destroy you.

“Thank you Sir” you moan and scream.

“You want to cum, whore ?” he huffs in betweens short breaths, your clenching pussy making it difficult for him to keep up with words. 

“Yes please sir !” you reply barely able to keep your thoughts together.

“Then cry and beg more” 

With that he violently slaps your clit, the sting is so sharp that your body is shook with sobs, big tears soaking your cheeks and running your makeup, making you look even more miserable than before.

Baekhyun loves every second of it, he loves to see your eyes lose consciousness of your surroundings, being only obnubilited by his hard cock rocking your body back and forth. He loves to see your face contort in pain while your pussy uncontrollably throbs for his huge massive cock, making your mind slowly sink in insanity.

He continuously slaps your pussy. It’s made so sensitive and it’s slowly turning blue from the bruising hits.

“PLEASE SIR PLEASE STOPPPP” you beg as the pain becomes so unbearable that your pussy is about to crush his meat rod, having it its way with you. Without even realizing you start squirting all over him and yourself, completely soaking the both of you with your juices, such powerful streams that some even hit him in the face.

His punishing hand stops the damage to your pussy to grab your neck once more as Baekhyun licks his lips hungrily tasting your wetness in his mouth not stopping once seconds his incessant back and forth inside your cunt.

“Such a good little whore for me” He says as his grip becomes tighter. “Stick your tongue out. and beg me to spit in your mouth”

You feel your face becoming more and more red as oxygen is restrained to your head but you execute yourself anyway. You stick your tongue out and without putting back your attempt to start talking despite the choking.

“Pleashh Shir spit in my mouth” you struggle to say.

“Good girl” he says before aiming right at your tongue, his precision is surgical. You feel the hot slimy liquid glide on your tongue as you roll your eyes in pure bliss, becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen.

Baekhyun spits again but this time on your cheek just to slap you again right after, finally letting go of your narrow neck to mix together spit tears and sweat on your face. He chuckles again, he relishes to see you like this. Right now you’re not the heiress of a powerful mafia empire. You’re just a simple cock hungry whore who'll do anything for him. You’re his toy. You’ve always been and you always will be and you desire nothing more than that.

“I’m going to cum inside you now fucking slut”

“Yes please” you beg in sobs, knowing your release is near.

“We’re going to make this baby you want so bad” he says as he voice is interspersed by each deadly thrusts.

“Please Sir get me pregnant with your child.” you cry out. “Please use my pussy to make yourself feel good. I wanna be your good for nothing cumdump. Please get this bitch pregnant” You ramble as you feel your center quiver deliciously, thoroughly milking Baekhyun’s cock as he finally sprays out his seeds grunting and swearing under his breath. So much cum is poured into your pussy that it starts to spill and runs down your ass and the tablecloth.

At last… you felt him again. At last you won him over. You both know that. You trapped him forever caught in the mafia way of life. There’s no escape for him. So why not have fun along the way? Maybe he can become that mafia boss you see in him… 

Only time will tell…

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove@calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika@making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon@buttercupbbh@shesdreaminginoverdose@jennxx3@byuntrash-ficrec@pvtbbh@bimbimbbam@xzyxbbh@thegreatandi@multistan30@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@jave-05-little-doll@yutornado@lazyvird@akrmn @jeonzil @jamjamxx56 @deredere-coffee @bbhmystar

A/N: So that concludes this story!! What do you think don't hesitate to tell me in comments or drop an ask (i love those). I really wanted to to say thank you one more time to everyone that read and made themselved known. You guys made this story! I wante to give up sometimes but your support kept me going! I really wanted to say i appreciate all of you. Thank you thank you thank you

Baekhyunie don’t leave me masterlist | General masterlist

<< Part 5

[forever-once-gone]

The Lost, the Found, and the Treasured

Pairing: SoftishYandere!Seokjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Yandere AU, Reincarnation AU, Royalty AU, angst turned to fluff turned to angst once again lol

Word Count: 9k

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere during a terrible storm. Thankfully, you were very close to what seemed to be an abandoned castle. You enter the large building to find a night’s refuge, but it seems that you find a lot more than you originally bargained for.

Content & Warnings: Fem reader, yandere themes, possessiveness, a bit of jealousy, refusing to let the reader go, the reader is very confused, general fear, marriage, assassination, grief, use of terms of affection: my love, love, invasion of personal space (Jin just refuses to stop hugging you and stuff), Jin’s a man in love finally reuniting with his one true love, it seems to take a toll on him.

Author’s Note: This got a lot longer than I originally wanted. Took a lot longer too. This kinda reminded me of Beauty and a Beast. You’ll understand what I mean once you read it. I could only bear to read over this once, so please ignore any stupid mistakes. It’s kinda rushed, so yeah. But anyway, let me know if you liked it! And, of course, enjoy! 💕

The silk slipped over your head, draping on your body in layers. The soft honey colour looked warm against your skin. You’d never felt anything so soft. The fabric felt too expensive to be worn by you, yet, it felt right to have it adorning your body. The dress brought out the feeling of being a bride-to-be from centuries ago, as if the silk dress was revealing a side of yourself that you had pushed away for years. It felt right, so right, to be wearing it.

But you knew this was wrong.

You weren’t meant to be here, in this empty, dreary castle. A strong storm, a wrong turn, a broken car, a sense of helplessness as you found solace in the only structure around was what brought you to your current predicament. You had entered the castle hoping that someone would be there to help you. A groundskeeper, a custodian, an owner—anyone—who would help you. Someone who would let you stay the night as you thought of your next plan of action.

You could imagine your surprise when you had knocked on the grand door of the castle to hear no reply or steps coming in your direction. It had seemed abandoned, but that was nonsense! No one would leave a castle such as this one unowned. Maybe they hadn’t heard you, it was a large estate. You doubted that someone from the other side of the castle would be able to hear you, so you knocked again. You heard it echo throughout the castle through the door that you had pressed your ear against.

You sighed, there must really have been no one there.

Taking the loss, you had turned back to walk back to your car to escape the rain, but just as you took a step away from the door, you felt a rush of air hit your back. Confused, you turned, only to see that the door had opened on its own. It was open just a smidge, but open nonetheless. Pressing your hand onto the door, you pushed it open further, hoping to see who had let you in. All that greeted you, however, was a dusty but otherwise eerily empty entry way filled with columns and stairways.

Yet not a single living soul.

You knew that you should probably turn back. But just as you were about to turn to face the large dark oak doors, a flash of lightning followed by the deep rumble of thunder stopped you. It caused you to tense up, and when you took another step to peer out the doorway, the rain seemed to plummet to the ground even faster and harsher than before, so much so that it caused the large and heavy door to slam closed an inch from your face. You were just glad that you hadn’t moved any closer to the door, because with the strength it had slammed shut, if you had been any closer, you were sure your nose would have broken.

Shocked by how much the storm had picked up, you turned back to look at the vast entryway behind you. No, it still wasn’t safe to be out. But, you didn’t feel any safer in the castle. However, after debating with yourself for a minute or two you came to the conclusion that even though the castle may be suspiciously empty, it was dry and safe. At least, safe from being struck by lightning. A plus, that trying to leave wouldn’t grant you.

And so, accepting that you had no chance of leaving the estate until the storm let up, you moved deeper into the castle.

Might as well get comfortable, you thought, letting out a drawn-out breath.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to feel comfortable considering how empty the place was.

But the lack of any presence wasn’t the oddest thing about the castle. No. What brought the most uncertainty to overtake your mind was the fact that the castle had been so easy for you to navigate. Though the castle was made up of many winding, turning corridors and stairwells leading to an endless number of rooms greater than your whole apartment back in the city, you had been able to predict which room you would walk into next. What grey, lifeless room you would stumble onto.

You would walk through an empty sitting room, only to anticipate the bare hallway you’d walk into next. As you passed countless doors, in the back of your mind, you vaguely knew what laid behind them.

Behind that one is a closet, you thought. That one leads to the cellar. Oh! And that one should lead to a bathroom.

It was an odd sort of deja vu.

After a strange, yet surprisingly uneventful walk around the estate, you found yourself in the north wing. How you knew it was the north wing, you had no clue. You were never great with directions. But just like with the layout of the castle, you just knew.

Nonetheless, you stood in front of the long corridor, an almost never-ending series of doors looking back at you.

You felt unsafe standing in the middle of the hall, open to anything that could jump out at you. You knew you were being overly cautious, there had been no people as far as you had seen, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be bats, rodents, and who knows what else. To feel a bit more safe, you moved to the left side of the hall, letting your left shoulder skim the wall ever so slightly. This way you would be sure that at least nothing could jump up at you from your left side. It helped your nerves from feeling as exposed as you did before. You’d only have to look out to your right for any possible danger.

And so, you continued to walk down the hall as you leaned against the solid wall. You felt the textures change against your side as the wall changed from stone to the occasional wooden beams, from the beams to the stone niches where old candle stands stood covered in thick layers of dust. And of course, you felt the way the stone brick walls changed to the smooth wood of the doors. You kept walking, keeping your eyes darting around your right side, putting your trust into nothing jumping up from the wall.

Just as you were about to reach the end of the corridor, a spiral stairwell leading up just out of reach in front of you, you felt a strong weight push onto your right. The harsh force thrust you against the last door in the hallway, which in turn let out under your weight. It swung open roughly, slamming onto the wall adjacent to it, as it swung open. You fell into the room. Immediately, your left shoulder burst out in dull pain from your whole body weight falling onto it.

A groan involuntarily escaped you as you turned to lay on your back.

“Fuck…” you said more to yourself than anything else. “What the fuck was that?”

You looked up from your supine position to the door by your feet.

Nothing. There was nothing in the doorway. No one who could have pushed you.

You let your head fall back onto the ground once you were sure that you were still alone. What pushed me? was the only thing on your mind as you waited for your heartbeat to slow back down to its regular pace. Your mind immediately went to a rabid wild animal even though there wasn’t anything of the sort around you.

After what had felt like an eternity—though it was probably only a few minutes—you felt well enough to get back up.

When you did, you finally got the chance to look at the room you had fallen into. It was a bedroom. A large 4 poster bed stood in the center of the room. Lush, jewel-toned sheets covered it, making it look softer than anything you’d ever seen before. Sheer navy blue curtains hung from the top of the bed frame in a canopy, casting the sheets in a blue hue. Peeking from under the bed was a handwoven bright red Persian rug.

Opposite the bed was a vanity that, once you got closer to you noticed, held countless vintage perfumes and makeup products. But as you continued analyzing the table, you realized the large vanity seemed to be split into two sections right down the middle.

On the left there were countless feminine flowery perfumes, a comb that seemed to have been carved from a dark wood. Small flowers and vines curled around its handle. There were ribbons in a plethora of colours, ranging from a deep crimson to the palest arctic blue. Hairpins laid haphazardly buried under the ribbons with elaborate flowers molded at the ends, which, you assumed, were meant to decorate the wearer’s hair.

When you looked at the right side of the vanity, you noticed the stark difference it had when compared to the other. While the left had flowers, ribbons, and pins, the right had an earthy cologne, what seemed to be a hair pomade, a pocket watch, and a boot shining kit.

As you finally took a step back from the table, you noticed that there was something very off about the room. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. But as you lightly drew your finger across the surface of the vanity, you realized what was so wrong with the room.

It wasn’t dusty.

Your finger hadn’t come away dirty after you took it off of the table. When you looked around the room you also realized that unlike the rest of the castle, the room wasn’t grey. The textiles weren’t faded and mute. The colours were still vibrant and clean on all these old objects, as if someone had been taking care of this room in particular, leaving the rest of the castle to rot with time.

Strange, very strange.

When you turned back to the vanity, you noticed something behind you that you swore hadn’t been there before. On the rich bed sheets, behind the sheer curtains was a blob of yellowish… something. It stood out against the dark sheets, drawing your eyes towards it, and almost like in a trance, it drew the rest of you closer to it too. You pushed the light curtains aside with the back of your hand.

A dress, a honey coloured dress laid on the bed. You stroked the silken fabric between your thumb and forefinger. In doing so, the front of the dress got pulled down revealing what was stitched in a small flowy script in the inside of the dress where the tag would have been.

For you, my love. Forever and always.

You traced the words with your fingers, and you don’t know what struck you next, but the next thing you knew you were wearing the dress. Your clothes, a pile at your feet.

And that’s how you got where you were now, standing in the middle of a castle, wearing someone’s stolen dress.

You stepped over your clothes, walking back to the vanity.

You studied the dress in the mirror. It hugged your body like a glove. It’s neckline was large, allowing a great view of your collarbone and shoulders. You dragged your fingertips against the exposed skin before letting them move further down. You noticed how the bodice was shaped to fit your breasts perfectly, neither too large that would leave loose fabric nor too small that would make it hard for you to breathe. Your eyes locked with your waist and how the dress cinched it just right before opening up into a looser skirt, giving you an hourglass figure.

For a while you just admired the dress on your body, feeling incredibly attractive until your eyes locked with the pile of clothes behind you in the mirror.

The sight of your soaked clothes on the floor shocked you out of your self-admiring stupor.

You were in an abandoned castle. Wearing a stolen dress. That you found in one of the few clean rooms of the place.

What the hell were you doing? What made you think this was okay?

Shocked with your own actions, you picked up your clothes from the floor determined to quickly change out of the dress and leave this place before you were caught in such a compromising situation.

Just when you had grasped the bottom of the garment to pull it off, something made you stop, your hands involuntarily loosening on the silk.

Music. Soft piano echoed from deep in the castle.

For the second time since entering this place, you felt your heart start hammering like crazy.

Somebody was here. Somebody that could get you arrested for trespassing and theft for the dress you were wearing.

You reached down again to pull the dress off only for the music to become even louder. So loud that it seemed to be playing from speakers directly into the room.

Fuck this, you thought, I don’t have time to take this damn thing off. Not with all this creepy shit. Just focus on getting the fuck out of here, Y/n.

You let go of the hem of the dress, letting it fall back against your ankles. You dug through your clothes for your damp jacket, pulling it on over the dress. You grabbed the rest of your clothes and sped out of the room.

But another surprise greeted you as you crossed the threshold of the room: the hall was clean. Not an ounce of dust anywhere. The stone was no longer covered in years of grime, instead it shone in the soft glow of the candles that were now aflame in the niches. There were rugs on the floor that weren’t there before, bright and welcoming. Side tables with bouquets lined the spaces in between the countless doors. Roses, peonies, hydrangeas, plus a hundred other more types that you didn’t even know the names of. All of them stood proudly in intricate vases, delicate and alive. Very alive. Not crispy or dead.

Okay, what in the actual hell is going on? You thought. Am I high? Am I dead? Did I get shot for trespassing on private property and this is some odd pre-death hallucination?

You weren’t going to stick around to find out.

You ran from the hallway back from the direction you came from, the thought of your car and its escape the only thing you let yourself focus on.

You were so shaken that you didn’t even stop to remember how the car wasn’t even working.

Nonetheless, in your fear-stricken mind, you thought: storm be damned, I’m getting out of here.

Despite trying to ignore your surroundings, your eyes unwillingly noticed all the changes to the rooms that you ran through. New, clean, bright, and no longer grey and old was the only way to describe it. Flashes of colours and flowers entered your peripheral vision as you sprinted through the castle. Even the floor beneath your feet was no longer the same. A plethora of rugs similar to the ones in the bedroom and hallway covered what seemed like every inch of the castle. Even though feeling them beneath your shoes threw you further into a loop, you were grateful for them because they muffled your footsteps as you ran.

Though, you doubted anyone would hear you running even if the rugs weren’t there considering the piano music seemed to only get louder and louder each second that you spent in the estate. So loud, in fact, that you had taken to pressing the cold, soggy clothes that were once in your arms over your ears to try and drown the music as you ran.

You felt like a newborn deer fumbling on your feet as you tried to stop your legs from shaking as you ran down the stairs. You couldn’t even use your arms for balance with the way you were covering your ears. But the end was in sight, you were in the foyer now, just a little more and you could jump into your car and never look back as you sped away.

Thank god too, you don’t think you could run for any longer.

As you reached the large wooden doors, you pulled the clothes from your ears, needing to use your arms to open the doors.

That was the worst mistake you made that whole night.

As soon as your hands left your ears, the music got louder by tenfold. Your eardrums blared with the noise. You felt like screaming with how much pain was streaming from your eardrums into the rest of your body like hot oil. But, you just grinded your teeth, trying to bear the pain.

Summoning every ounce of your strength, you reached out to the door, pushing it open. Immediately rain hit you in the face, dripping down your neck and onto the dress.

So close, you were so close.

The music was getting louder and louder.

And as soon as you lifted one foot to step out, you felt a hand grasp your shoulder.

You froze, and so did the music.

“You can’t really be leaving now, after everything,” the voice said.

You still stood facing away from the person, getting more drenched by the second from the rain. Figuring that you were found out, you reasoned that your best shot of not getting into any further trouble was to apologize.

Putting on your frailest, most apologetic voice, you said, “I know. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to trespass. I didn’t mean to steal the dress, I don’t know. I was just lost, my car broke down, and—and I’m so sorry!” You were close to tears, your eyes brimming with tears as you rambled nonsense.

The hand on your shoulder tightened, before forcing you to turn around. Your clothes dropping from your grip from the harsh movement.

You kept your gaze downwards, too ashamed to meet the eyes of the person before you. Instead you looked at the person’s shoes, a pair of black, expensive-looking leather dress shoes. Just by eyeing how they shone in the candlelight suggested that the flawless leather had gotten polished just recently.

Yup, you were screwed.

“Come on, now. Look at me. Are you going to torture me after centuries’ wait to see your eyes again?” the man—at least you figured was a man from his deep voice and shoes—asked.

You were utterly confused. Your brows furrowed in confusion, trying to comprehend the man’s words.

Still you didn’t look up at him.

The man grasped your shoulders over your damp jacket. “You are a lot more timid than before. Though, I suppose you were shy the first few days when we first met.” The man chuckled. “No matter. You’ll be as bubbly as you once were in no time, I’m sure.”

The man’s grip on your shoulders tightened once again, before pulling you into his chest. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing your face deeper into the crook of his neck, before he leaned the side of his head against yours. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/n. So much.”

You were as stiff as a board against his body. You still hadn’t seen the man’s face, had no clue who he was, yet the smell of his cologne seemed to bring you a surprising sense of calm. You don’t know why the man’s soft hands felt familiar, why his smooth voice sent pleasurable shivers down your spine, or why your tired arms ached to wrap around him.

But in the back of your mind, you knew this was weird. You should be outraged by this man grabbing you, invading your personal space, uttering gibberish that made no sense to you.

That’s when your eyes widened in realization. “How do you know my name?”

The man laughed a hearty laugh. You could feel the vibrations against your chest from the noise. The movement only making the wet dress rub uncomfortably against your skin.

The man nuzzled his head against yours before saying, “Like I would ever forget your name, Y/n. Does any man ever forget his bride?”

Fear started to pump through your body.

What is this man saying? He’s crazy, you thought to yourself.

Finally you seemed to come to your senses, moving your arms from your sides to his waist. You pushed the man away from you, to which he didn’t put up any resistance.

Shaking your head, you said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and honestly I feel like you’re just messing with me now. First the place goes from a haunted house to the Buckingham palace, and then you start talking about old brides and shit. I'll just leave, okay? I’ll bring you no troubl—” you raised your head to look at him and instantly froze.

The man was ridiculously handsome. Long dark hair slicked back paired with even darker eyes that sparkled with the reflections of the candlelight. Blemishless skin, with rose lips, full and tempting. His lips were stretched into an eased, yet the slightest bit teasing smile. A look of pure adoration painting his face. When you looked down from his face you saw his black velvet suit jacket. It had a sheen to it from where your wet body had been pressed against. Under the jacket was a white dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, revealing the soft skin underneath. The shirt’s collar slightly wrinkled as if he’d been pulling at it. The pants were of velvet too, tailored to fit his body perfectly just like the rest of the suit was.

As your eyes moved back up to his broad shoulders, you seemed to for the first time really take in just how large his frame was. Or at least the top of his frame was, because his broad shoulders and chest tapered into an unbelievably small waist.

Your eyes lingered on it, your fingers twitching to wrap around it, to put your arms around it and pull the man close.

The sound of him chuckling surprised you enough to force your eyes away from his body to his smug face.

“Still as entranced by my waist as ever, are you, Y/n? Don’t feel so shy, you can feel me,” he said, his voice getting quieter as he leaned down closer to your face. “You know I like it...” he whispered smoothly into your ear.

With his plump rosy lips pulled into a smirk against the side of your head, he grabbed your hands before placing them on his waist. He tightened your grip on him, before moving his hands to your own waist inside your open jacket. He teasingly squeezed you, then rubbed over the flesh in slow, deliberate movements. He had you pushed against the castle’s main door that he must have gotten closed at some point while you were freaking out.

He pulled himself flush against you, ignoring or maybe uncaring that your drenched body was getting him wet too. He moved his head to lay against your shoulder, turned towards your head so he could still keep somewhat of an eye on your expression. With each word he spoke, his lips skimmed your neck, leaving chills in their wake. “I’ve missed you so much, my love. I never thought I’d get to see you again. I was so close to leaving this realm, maybe move on to the world beyond“—his voice had started quivering—“I’m so glad I never did.”

His warm breath heated up your cold neck with each exhale. Paired with the way he moved his lips over the sensitive skin of your neck, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ve missed you so much, so, so, so much…” His lips cautiously pressed harder against your neck, puckering into a kiss that made your skin tingle under the soft touch.

Why you were letting him do this, you weren’t sure, but it may have had to do with the way your body seemed to yearn for him, against your better judgement. All that went through your head was how good it felt, to be in his arms, his lips marking your body as he pleased.

He felt the way you shivered under his touch, which only spurred him on to mouth at the point under your ear even more. He knew just the right places to pay attention to, before moving on to another spot that had soft gasps leaving your lips as he nipped at the skin. When the noises got loud enough for them to draw the man’s attention, his lips curved into a smile against your skin which only made your embarrassment deepen.

The change of pace spurred you to push the large man away from you, bringing a jacket sleeve-covered hand up right after to wipe away at the wetness he’d left spanning from your collarbones to your jawline.

“You can’t just do that!” you snapped, common sense flooding to the forefront of your brain as it should have long ago. “I don’t know your name, I don’t know why this place went from a dusty, trashy haunted house to a multi-million dollar estate, fully-furnished with all these well-taken care of vintage artifacts that would have collectors drooling at their prime condition, and I don’t know how you know me! I’m sorry that I came in here, okay? I won’t do it again, I was stupid, inconsiderate, and completely out of line. There, I admitted it, so can you kindly stop mind-fucking me with all this crazy shit?”

As you tried to catch your breath after blowing up in his face, you noticed the corner of his mouth raise up in a smug half-grin.

He stepped up to you again, walking up real close. He leaned in, eyes flickering down to your lips and you prepared yourself for him to continue his affections, ignoring everything you said.

You closed your eyes, ready to take whatever he did next.

But it never came. At the lack of action, you opened your confused eyes.

He was standing less than an inch from your face, eyes still glued to your lips. Only when you finally spoke did he break eye contact and look into your eyes.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you asked, though you weren’t sure why you sounded so disappointed.

Looking deep into your eyes, he said, “Did you want me to?”

You had no answer for him, no answer that you wanted to give him anyway.

He hummed at your lack of an answer, moving back from you. He just watched you for a second, seeming to look through your very being. It felt like he was looking for something in particular, deep within your soul. He then reached up to push a few damp strands of hair out of your face, letting his hand linger on the side of your head.

You looked up at him, still confused about what was going on. Was he ever gonna answer your questions? Maybe this was the sign that you should make a break for it, you were after all standing pressed up against the main doors.

If I could push him away hard enough, I could probably manage to get the doors open and make a break for my car—WAIT, my car isn’t working, you remembered. Fuck, I’m trapped.

His hands being placed on your shoulders broke you out of your thoughts. “I should probably answer your questions,” he said while pushing your jacket off of your shoulders. “But first, let me take this.”

“No! Wait, I’d rather keep it on,” you said frantically.

“Nonsense. It’s soaked through, you’ll get sick. Besides, you’re not gonna need it anytime soon.” He walked away from you to place the jacket onto a coat stand. This was the first time that night that he’d moved more than a metre away from you. The first time he had turned his back to you. The first time you weren’t under his watchful gaze.

This is my chance to run, you thought.

You knew that there was nothing nearby, but you couldn’t stand to spend another second with this mystery man. Trying not to make any noise you reached behind you to try and find the doorknob.

Your eyes were still locked on the man’s back, cautious of any sudden movements. Cautious of getting caught.

Bingo, you found the doorknob. Now just to quietly turn it open.

He had by now placed the jacket on the stand, but he hadn’t let it go.

You turned the doorknob a millimetre at a time. Any more and it would creak.

His hands were smoothing over the fabric.

Halfway done, just a little more.

He was checking the pockets.

Don’t look back, don’t look back, you prayed in your head.

He was going through your pockets.

My keys are in the jacket. He has my car keys! My stuff’s in the car. I have nothing, you realized.

He put your phone and keys away into the inner pocket of his suit’s jacket, before immediately turning to you.

You froze in your spot.

He scanned your frame from top to bottom, the hand on the doorknob, the fear swimming in your eyes.

“Don’t bother.” He walked back to you. “The door doesn’t open without my permission.” He could sense your uncertainty. “Don’t trust me? Try and open it.”

You did just that, turning to face the door this time. You didn’t have to worry about being caught this time. You took a deep breath in before turning the handle the last few millimetres that were left, but when you pushed it open—nothing. Nothing happened. It didn’t open.

“Got it out of your system?” You jumped at how close his voice was to your ear. He was standing right behind you, just barely resting his chin on your shoulder as he peered at your hand on the doorknob in front of you.

Though a bit hesitant, you nodded your head.

“Good.” He turned you around, before stepping aside to stand beside you on your left. “If you’ll be good, I’ll make sure you get the answers to your questions. Now, come.”

He intertwined your left arm with his right, starting to walk you deeper into the candle-lit castle.

“Where are we going?” you asked once you had mustered the courage to speak to the strange man.

“I saw you walk around very deliberately when you first stumbled inside—don’t look so scared, my love, I was just watching you—you weren’t lost or confused at all by the look of it. You knew exactly where you were going…” He turned to look at you as you walked. You refused to meet his eyes. “Love, why don’t you tell me where I’m taking you. I know it will come back to you.”

You looked around you. You were walking arm-in-arm down a narrow corridor on the East side of the estate. You saw an offshoot hallway a few metres ahead of you. It leads to the… kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. But, the two of you passed the hallway, continuing straight down the hall. The next door went to a… a storage room. You doubted he was going to take you there.

All of the sudden, you heard the piano start up again. Soft and sweet, not ear-bleeding like it had been before. Music.

Wait—it was coming back to you.

“You’re taking us to the ballroom.”

He smiled, his eyes filled with unrepressed joy. “Yes, I am. You do remember. You are my Y/n.”

He stopped in front of the door that led to the ballroom. It was a side door, not the main one that guests would use to enter the ball. This door was meant for the servants who would come to serve the guests hor d'oeuvres and drinks. The man stared at the door, an aura of sadness and anxiety seeping off of him and into the air. As it surrounded you, it only passed on the worries to you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He continued to stare at the door for a second too long before letting out an unconvincing: “nothing.”

You could hear the piano much clearer now. Though it was slightly muffled behind the door, it was still as smooth and alluring as you imagined it would sound without the wood blocking the sound from you. The subdued notes called to you, and as you placed your hand to push the door open, the grip on your arm tightened, keeping you on your spot. He brought you to the ballroom, but was not letting you go into it.

It confused you to no end. It seemed like confusion was your constant state that night.

“Aren't we going to go inside?” It felt like you had been speaking more than him since you got to the door. His self-confidence seemed to have melted as soon as you got in close proximity to the room. “Excuse me, uh..” He still hadn’t told you his name. You settled for a replacement title. “Uh, sir, are you okay?”

“I’m alright, my love. It’s just… a bit difficult to go back in there since, well, since that’s where I lost you.”

You were getting tired of his cryptic words and slivers of the past that he refused to fully reveal to you. Yet, a part of you wanted to comfort him, apologize to him, though for what, you weren’t entirely sure. The other sane part of you just wanted to rip your hair out from just how confused you were from this whole situation. You decided to go with the former for the sole reason that his grip on your arm was too strong to allow you to even reach your head.

The man got very serious after your soft apology. “Don’t be. There is no reason to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. It—It was just an unfortunate accident of not enough security during the wedding. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t mine either.”

It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, wishing that someone—anyone—would just explain what in the actual hell was going on. Preferably without clinging to you and calling you ‘my love.’

It wasn’t that you hated it when the mystery man said it, it was the fact that you didn’t hate it that made it worse.

The man smiled at you before finally opening the door into the ballroom. He held the door open for you, ushering you into the room.

The room was less a room and more of a grand hall considering it was as big as a professional soccer field. The floor was made of a light marble, grey accents swirling through the solid ivory hue. Under the flickering candlelight that spread from the multiple chandeliers that hung high on the scenically painted ceiling, the grey seemed to move across the floor like magic.

The piano music rushed up to you, bathing you in its serenity as it beckoned you further into the hall. You could see the piano as it sat at the far end of the ballroom spreading its sound into the world even though it seemed to be missing its pianist.

“It’s playing on its own.” You turned to the man, hoping he’d clear this confusion at least.

“It’s not.” The man hooked to your arm stopped the two of you in the middle of the floor, briefly letting go of you as he stepped in front of you, blocking the view of the piano. He wrapped his right arm around your waist as his left held your right one out to your side. With you thoroughly pressed against his body for the nth time that night, he began to sway to the rhythm of the music. “He’s there. I just assumed that it would be best if only I revealed myself to you tonight. I couldn’t bear to share you on our first night back together.” He winked down at you.

When you peeked at the piano over the man’s shoulder, you felt flashes of another life surface. Dark hair. A kind gummy smile. Music. Understanding. A friend.

“Yoongi…” The familiar name slipped from your lips.

The music faltered for a second, almost caught off guard at your words, before resuming to its former perfection, though a tad quicker in tempo than before. If you strained your eyes hard enough through the darkness, you could almost make out the figure of a man sitting at the piano. Though his hands moved gracefully over the ivory keys, his focus and gaze were locked on you.

The man wrapped around you let out a dark chuckle, drawing your attention away from the figure’s faint smile back to him. “I have to say, my love, it hurts that you remembered the musician’s name before you remembered mine.”

You gazed into his hurt stare, a sad smile accompanying it. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know how I remembered. I don’t even know what I just remembered.”

He let you think for a second before saying, “You do.”

“What?”

“Out in the hall, you had said that you don’t know what I’m talking about. You do.” He monitored your expression.

“I don’t think you understand, just how much I really don’t.” What was this man getting at?

He brushed some loose drying hair out of your eyes. “You know more than you think you do. You remembered the layout of our home, you found your way directly to our room.”

He suddenly twirled you in the midst of your dance, taking you by surprise. His eyes sparkled as your grip on him tightened as you tried to steady yourself after the sudden motion. And then back you were, pressed flush against his chest. “You don’t know how happy I was when I saw you standing in front of our door. I’ll admit, my excitement did get the better of me and I pushed you into the room in my rush. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” you said so quickly that it almost cut him off. You didn’t like seeing him feel bad.

His smile grew, eyes softening even further at your acceptance. “I was even happier to see you in your wedding dress.” The hand that splayed against the small of your back, massaged over the smooth fabric, almost savouring the feeling of having you back in his arms just like you had been at your incomplete wedding all those centuries ago. “Though, I see you didn’t put on the petticoat and corset that accompanies the dress. I’ll let it be though, I’m sure it’s hard to remember all those steps after all this time.”

He let out a soft sigh, looking out to the side in mild embarrassment. “I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I? What I meant by all this is that you do remember. You do remember me.”

His left hand let go of yours, moving to cup the side of your face. Eyes darting across your face, looking for a sign of recognition, he said, “Who am I, Y/n?”

Your throat immediately closed up. Your hands twitched, anxious sweat starting to coat them. “I—I don’t—”

“Yes you do!” He cut you off. He seemed to get more frantic the longer you kept him waiting. “You remembered the castle, the dress, the ballroom, and even the godforsaken musician—You have to remember me too!”

Your heart was beating out of your chest, eyes blurring as tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

“Come on, Y/n! Try! Just try to remember! I changed the castle back to how it was before to help you remember! I know you can do it! Just say it! Say my name, please! I can’t take it!”

The candle flames seemed to stretch higher, much higher than they should have, kissing the quickly blackening ceiling. The music had stopped long ago, and the presence of the friendly figure had left with it. Strong wind whipped around the ballroom, tossing your hair into your face so hard that you imagined them leaving little cuts in your skin. You clenched your eyes shut.

His grip tightened, and tightened, and tightened until—

“Jin! Your name is Jin! The Crown Prince, Kim Seokjin, of the Western Mainland and Isles of the Kingdom of Zergaci.”

Your voice faltered for a second, debating if you should admit the rest of the words that had been circling your head all night.

Fuck it.

“My fiance, my love. ...My Jin.”

The candle flames had gone back to their regular height, the wind no longer pushing at you. But the music had not resumed.

It was silent.

You didn’t dare open your eyes. You couldn’t bear to see Jin’s reaction.

And then you were being lifted into the air.

“You remember!” He spun you around, his hearty, joyous laugh immediately melting your worries. You joined him in his celebrations, a hole in your chest that you didn’t know even existed until a few minutes ago filling.

You’d never felt so complete.

He gently placed you back onto the ground.

Your cheek muscles were starting to ache with how much you were smiling.

You could remember everything. How you’d met at a nobility banquet, immediately catching one another’s eye. How he’d asked you for a dance, singling you out from all of the envious women. How he’d slowly gotten you to fall deeper and deeper into love with him over the course of five years. Charming you patiently, not ever making you feel uncomfortable or rushed.

You remembered the day he asked you to marry him. The clip-clop of his horse drawn carriage stopping at the door of your family’s estate. The way that he’d glanced up at your room’s window, knowing that you were waiting there, peeking out from behind your red curtains, for him to finally ask for your hand in marriage. He’d spoken with your father and mother first, always being the most traditional when it came to matter like this. The promise of giving you a good, fulfilling life sealing the deal for your parents as they quickly accepted the proposal.

They had finally called you down, telling you that Jin had wanted to take you somewhere. They had been trying to keep the proposal a secret, but Jin was always an open book and you could read him well. You’d known for weeks that he was going to ask you to marry him sometime soon.

He had taken you to one of his vacation estates. A smaller estate than his main one surrounded by fields and fields of flowers. He had chosen that particular estate, because he knew of your love for nature. Over the years he had switched out a lot of the flowers to your favourites.

But the most predominant type were the ones you loved the most of all. French marigolds. That was where he had taken you then, in the midst of the dual-coloured flowers. In the sea of orange and red, he’d asked you to be his ‘til the end of time.

Without missing a beat you had said yes.

And even though it caused you much pain, you even remembered your last day with him.

You had stayed the night before your wedding, bringing with you all of your belongings. He had wanted to have you to himself the night before the big day. The need to cherish you beating his want to keep the tradition of not seeing you before the wedding.

He had helped you get dressed that morning. Helping you into your honey-coloured wedding dress that reminded him of your favourite marigolds. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to dress you, but had finally given up when he realized he was incapable of doing your makeup. He had let your closest attendant finish up your makeup and hair, though he refused to leave the room while it happened.

You had only laughed at his childish antics.

It was only when you were greeting the guests before the actual ceremony when everything had gone awry. In your dying breath you heard someone say that apparently one of those women from the ball where you first met Jin had gotten a bit more angry than the others, paying off a man to get rid of you. It had been sudden, the man quickly escaping the chaos of the bride-to-be bleeding out in the arms of the Crown Prince.

Beyond that, you knew nothing.

“I love you so much, Y/n! So much!” Jin’s declaration brought you out of your newly-recovered past-life’s memories. He hugged you tight, not wanting to let go. Not that you wanted him to anyways, not after being reunited with the man who had made you so happy in your past life.

Who would be upset about being reunited with their soulmate?

He covered your faces in kisses in between his laughter.

You giggled. “The Jin I knew wasn’t so liberal with his affection. Not in public, at least. Are you really my Jin? Or have the years really changed you?”

“Seems that being away from you has made me let go of some of my more conservative ways. The centuries do that to you.” He pressed his cheek against yours, softly rubbing like one would expect a cat to do. Your hands were sat against his pecs over his clothes, moving up and down in a comforting way. You wanted to show him that you missed him as much as he missed you.

“Say, Jin, I can’t remember past dropping on the ground on that last day, what happened after that? How are you still here?” You leaned back to look at him. “Why aren’t you...dead?”

His eyes flashed at your questions, quickly darkening from their once cheerful brightness. He didn’t want to tell you. He refused to tell you what had happened.

He knew how kind you were and probably still are even after being reborn; you would hate what he’d done while he’d been struck by grief. How he’d doomed himself and all those who lived and worked for the royal family to stay captive at the castle in his fit of grieving rage. Not even death himself coming to free them from his clutches.

He wouldn’t be able to handle your disapproval, and so he decided he wouldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t let you slip out of his hands once again.

“Always so curious, my love.” His hand brushed your cheek. “But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re here, back with me.”

He gave you a soft peck on your lips, causing your eyes to flicker closed. While you basked in the afterglow of his love, eyes still pleasantly shut, he said, “I’m never letting you go now.”

The words brought a small smile to your lips. “You always say that, you jokester.”

His arms tightened around you. “I mean it this time. Y/n, you aren’t leaving me this time. I’m not letting you leave this castle, our home.”

The sincerity and monotonousness in his voice brought you out of your blissed out state.

This could just be him saying sweet nothings, but it didn’t seem like it from the serious look on his face. He did realize you were living a different life than your last one, right? You had responsibilities, a family, a life outside of all this. You couldn’t leave it all behind for a life long lost. Still, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and make it clear that you couldn’t stay forever in a joking manner. Test the waters, so to speak.

“Jin,” you started. “You know I have a life outside of here, right? I can’t just stay here all the time, even if I want to.” You jokingly batted at his upper arm to show you were just messing around, not trying to start a fight.

“A life outside of me?” He didn’t seem to think it was that funny, if his unimpressed expression was anything to go by.

You laughed half-heartedly, trying to keep up the happy persona. “Of course. I do have a family, you know. People I care about and love.”

His eyes flashed. “People you… love?”

You didn’t like where this was going. “...Yes? I mean, I have a complete life in the outside world.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

The sudden question threw you off-guard. “What?! Of course not!”

He stared right through your soul and when he spoke, the finality to his tone reminded you of his title. He was a ruler not to be argued with. His word was final. “Then there is no issue with staying here with me, the person who you are in a relationship with.”

“I have other people who I care for! I have a family; a mother, a father, a sister, two brot—”

“YOUR FAMILY IS DEAD!” He erupted less than a millimeter from your face. “Your family died more than three hundred years ago! The only person you have left is me! Only me! Those people”—he said the word with venom dripping from his lips—“are not your family!”

You were shaking, tears slowly rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

He had yelled at you. He’d never yelled at you, like this. Raised his voice, sure, but not unadulterated rage like this. Never said anything so hurtful. Not once. Not in this life, or the one before.

The Jin you knew was kind, considerate, a gentleman.

This was not your Jin. This was a man who, after the many centuries away from you, had become a shell of the person you loved. He had become a monster.

Your silent crying seemed to pull him out of his rage. Immediately, he seemed to realize what he’d done. “Oh. Oh, Y/n, I’m so sorry. My intention wasn’t to make you cry. I love you, you know!” He frantically wiped the tears on your cheeks. It was a worthless effort. More tears took the previous’ place promptly once they had been removed.

“Oh, don’t cry, my love! I love you so much! So much! You have to understand, I cannot let you abandon me again. I cannot let you leave! You’re all I have left! Everything I’ve done was just to have you again.”

He was losing it, his nails digging into the fleshy part of your exposed arms. Though you didn’t dare look down at his hands, you were sure he’d started to draw blood.

The tears were still streaming down your face. They had started to draw down your neck and over your collarbone, soaking your silk dress. Your clothes were just not getting a break today, it seemed.

“Here! Here, Y/n!” His right hand let go of your arm, reaching into the air behind you. When he pulled his hand back into his field of view, he had a flower clenched in his fist. They looked familiar, but in the mellow candlelight, and the fact that you were still crying, you couldn’t quite make out what exactly they were.

“A french marigold! Your favourite! The flower that was with us during all of our best moments! A symbol of our love! Take it, Y/n!” He thrusted the flower into your face.

You turned away from the flower, letting its velvety petals graze against your tear-soaked cheek. The only thing that your body allowed you to do through your fear was whisper: “I want to go home.”

He paused, letting your words soak in.

And then, in an eerily calm voice, he said, “take the flower, Y/n.”

Like a broken record, you repeated, “I want to go home.”

His wide, dead eyes pierced through you. “You are home. Take the flower, Y/n.”

Again. “I want to go home.”

“You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to. Take the flower, Y/n.”

“I want to go home.”

“Your efforts would be fruitless. Take the flower, Y/n.”

“You can’t make me stay.” You could feel each pump of your heart.

“I can and I will. The doors don’t open, unless I want them to. Take the flower, Y/n.”

You bit the bullet. “I don’t love you.”

His eyes glazed over, a scary smile slowly twitching its way across his face. A smile way too wide, way too toothy, made it clear that you’d said the wrong thing. “Y/n. You’re mine. Get that through your head.”

He turned your face to look directly up at him. His thumb rubbing against your chin. He leaned closer to you, eyes locked with your lips.

You quickly closed your eyes, preparing yourself for his kiss, but it never came. Instead, you felt something get tucked behind your ear.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Jin’s sorrow-filled look. A complete one-eighty from his fierce look from just a few seconds ago. His sad eyes took in the sight of the marigold blooming from behind your ear.

“You’ve been mine since the day you agreed to marry me. From the moment you said yes, you’ve been mine.”

He met your eyes, and you weren’t sure if it was a trick of the candlelight, but you could have sworn there were tears threatening to spill from them. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”

You heard a quiet sniffle that, if you weren’t looking right at him, you wouldn’t have believed came from the proud man that you knew.

In a voice, way too small for the man in front of you, too emotional for the Crown Prince that once had you wrapped around his finger, too broken, he said, “please.”

It was over.

And in that moment you knew that though you trembled, though you ached to run back home to your family, no matter how much you wanted to leave, with his quiet plea he had latched onto the old Y/n, the one willing to do anything for her Prince, and chained the present you and your soul to him.

Now, you would never leave, not even if you wanted to.

[chimielie]

champagne

summary: Kuroo x Reader. He proposes. You say no.

word count: 3.6k

cw: engagement, angst with a happy ending, reader is kind of a hot mess, drinking, throwing up, swearing, self-deprecating thoughts.

a/n: this blog is where i project all my commitment issues onto y/n and their fake volleyboy husband. as always, pls lmk if there’s a mistake bc i genuinely cannot bear to read this

You’re not stupid.

You would have to be to miss the signs, honestly. Tetsurō has been tiptoeing around you for weeks, insisting on watching rom-coms that have hardly been an institution in your relationship up till now. He squeezes your hand a little harder than usual at the end, when one lead bends down on one knee and the other nods yes, a million times, yes. You’ve noticed your father’s contact popping up on Tetsu’s phone screen a lot more often than ever before. You’ve definitely noticed the blue velvet box sitting on the highest shelf in the kitchen, ordinarily obscured by a grocery bag that happens to have turned very, very translucent in the lamplight when you were hunting for a late-night snack at two A.M.

You’re not stupid, so the way your heart drops— you can hear the organ splashing into your stomach acid— when Tetsurō gets down on one knee shocks you as much as the proposal doesn’t.

He’s talking, reminiscing with misty eyes and crooked smile on your relationship, on what have been some of the best days of your life, of what today should be. You can hardly hear him through the blood pounding in your ears, the hot sting in your eyes, the emptiness of your lungs. Your breathing is coming faster and faster, and you blink, images dancing on the back of your eyelids— every heartbreak you’ve ever witnessed, every marriage you know didn’t work out, every fear you’ve carried like weights just beneath your skin since you were small. When you open your eyes he’s staring at you expectantly, his nervous hyena laughter dying out, echoing around the venue.

The setting is perfect, the speech, you’re sure, was perfect, he’s perfect. You stand, clothed in finery that suddenly feels far too constrictive despite how often you’ve worn the very same design as a proud significant other on Tetsurō’s arm, in the center of a dome that opens up to the sky, only glass separating you and the velvet-dark sky studded with stars. Greenery crowds out of the walls, the riot of flora interrupted occasionally with statues and ornate mirrors. The food, or what little you ate as your nerves increased gradually during dinner, was excellent. It’s gorgeous and scenic and so expensive, a display of how much Tetsurō can provide for you, even if it’s only symbolic. It’s perfect.

But you’re broken.

That’s all you can think as you stare down at your boyfriend, at the ring sparkling in its box, a flush creeping over his face. I thought I was ready, but— but— and then your brain floods you with visions of him, angry, of you, crying, of you, split up. You’ve never wanted anything less.

“Love?” Tetsurō is looking up at you with the soft adoration and trust he’s always looked at you with, but you can see fear in the corners of his eyes, of a persistent pull upward of his eyebrows. You can’t do it. You can’t say yes— you’re broken— but you can’t say no. You can’t bring yourself to break him into bits the way you know it will. You know not saying anything is tantamount to a refusal, but your panicked brain isn’t supplying you with anything better. “Say something, please, you’re making me nervous.”

You stare at him, and there’s electricity racing over your skin and a piercing pain in your chest. You love him so much it hurts.

“I don’t feel well,” you choke, and then you run, dashing for the exit and praying that you’ll bump into a bathroom so you can bring yourself down from the edge of a panic attack before you see him again.

When you walk out, face damp from the cool water you splashed over it, gait wobbly, he’s waiting for you with the car, ready to take you home. The drive is short and long, silent and tense. You fiddle with your fingers, peel at your fingernails. He reaches out and grabs your hand to stop you. He hasn’t looked at you, but he knows you so well. You feel sick again.

When you get home, you shuck off your shoes without incident, hang up your coat. Normally, your shared home with Tetsurō is full of noise, the sound of pans clattering, the echo of your mixed laughter, the low buzz of the movies you fall asleep on top of him during. It’s a home.

Right now, it’s a house, with two strangers occupying it.

“Y/N,” he says, and he’s trying to make it sound as sensitive and quiet as possible. The gentleness is too much for you, the tenderness breaking you open and spilling your guts on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Tetsu,” you sob, and fall into his open arms. “I,” and you can’t get past that. There’s no air in your lungs, or maybe it’s because your face is buried in his shirt.

“Sh,” he says, brushing a large hand over your hair. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.”

You fall asleep quickly, half-clothed because you’re just too tired to do it right, but it’s restless. You notice when you wake up, groggy and much earlier than usual, that he’s clinging to you, his grip almost bruising, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. You turn in his hold, and he pulls you impossibly closer. You pet his hair and rub his back in soothing circles with your thumb until you drift off again.

The next few days are— strange, to say the least. On the surface everything is normal. You pack him lunch in the morning and kiss him goodbye as he leaves for work; you come home from your own job to him cooking dinner on the stove. You make small talk; talk too small for a relationship of many years. You can’t get it off your mind, and you assume he can’t either. Being rejected must feel a thousand times worse than rejecting him was, and that already sucked shit. Every time you try to talk to him about it, to explain yourself, he puts you off with a warm hug and a murmured “We don’t have to talk yet, don’t worry.” But his work days get longer, and you can’t watch rom-coms anymore, and you still wake up to his desperate touch, like he’s unconsciously trying to keep you as close as he’s trying to distance himself during the day.

The first time he calls you to tell you he’ll be sleeping at Bokuto’s, you’re nervous. You can understand that it’s closer to the office, that he needs that edge, and that he likely needs space, but you can’t help the voice whispering in the back of your mind that he’s not at Bo’s, he’s with someone else, he wants someone more whole and unafraid and loving than you can be. You try to tamp it down, but it’s still there, wriggling and writhing at the edge of your consciousness.

He comes home the next day, bearing the baked goods Akaashi always insists on giving visitors, and you relax. Two days later, he calls again, and again you worry. The third time, he stays away for a couple days, and you pray he ignores the dark circles beneath your eyes when he returns. The fourth time, you convince yourself that you’re used to it.

The fifth time, Bokuto calls you.

“Hi, Y/N!” He says, and your lips turn up in a smile at the sound of your friend’s voice, always cheerful and uplifting.

“Hey, Bo,” you respond. “Everything okay over there?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. There’s frantic whispering you can’t quite make out. “Your boyfriend’s drunk, come pick him up.”

“I don’t know if he wants that,” you laugh nervously. It’s a Wednesday. Tetsu never drinks on weekdays, and he rarely drinks enough to get drunk.

“Then explain why he’s been asking for you,” Bokuto says, and it’s a little jolt of warmth to know that Tetsurō still thinks of you. You think of how, a mere couple of weeks ago, you had considered your relationship strong and healthy and full of life, and now the two of you just seem to keep getting sadder and sadder and calling it love.

“How bad is it?” You’re a little afraid, again, and you slap yourself mentally, embarrassed at how cowardly you feel.

“Please,” and it’s Akaashi’s voice now, mellow and steady. “He’s being such a little bitch.”

You giggle, knowing that Akaashi almost always only swears casually after a couple glasses of alcohol, and grab your keys.

“I’ll be there soon.”

During the drive over, you manage to psych yourself out yet again. You think of drunken outbursts and the liquid courage needed to break up with you, and your back hunches like you’re trying to hide even though there’s nobody in the car with you.

You knock meekly on Bokuto’s door and listen for the telltale loud thumping as he smacks into walls and trips over lamps on his way to the door. True to form, he answers the door in seconds, out of breath and loud, a huge smile on his face.

“Long time no see!” You let yourself be folded into his big arms, warm and comforting, always open.

“Nice to see you,” you smile at him. “Where’s Tetsurō?”

“Oh, about that,” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Your stomach turns violently. “He fell asleep already.”

“Oh, that’s no worry,” you say. “I guess I’ll head back, then.” A soft laugh. You don’t want to go, back to your empty house and cold bed.

“No, no, stay for a little, come in,” Bokuto says, and Bokuto rarely ever asks for things. You walk in, and it’s been a little while since you truly felt like you were in a home. There’s a comfortable order to the chaos of Bokuto’s belongings, a sense of lived-in, loved-in wear to the rooms. You accept a glass of juice and a seat at his kitchen table.

“So you turned down his proposal,” Bokuto says, and you choke on your sip. “He’s been pretty bummed about that, I gotta say.” You imagine that Akaashi, probably asleep like Tetsurō, is scolding him for lack of tact in his dreams.

“I didn’t think I would,” you say quietly. You haven’t figured out how to talk about it to anyone yet. Your parents called, but you skirted the topic.

“He still loves you,” Bokuto says, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Bo, I don’t—”

“He does. That’s why he’s here all the time. If you don’t want him, he’s trying to make it easier on you to kick him out.”

“I didn’t know,” you say dumbly. The fan overhead is a soft buzz in the background. Chills race up your arms. “I still want him.”

“I figured,” Bokuto says. “You sound like it.”

“I didn’t say no because of him,” you look down. “I can’t believe he thinks that.”

“Tetsu’s a smart guy. He thinks a lot of things. He’s also kind of a dumbass.”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Your dumbass.” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you laugh, loud and clear. For a moment, the weight on your chest and the flowers in your lungs recede. You remember everything you love about being with Tetsurō, the love that makes things easy.

“I don’t know why I said no.” Bokuto says nothing, only takes a long swig of his drink and waits for you to continue. “I’ve seen a lot of relationships fall apart, and a lot of marriages. I knew he was gonna ask, but when it came to it, I folded.” You bow your head in shame. “I ran away because I thought the anxiety would go away when the moment happened, and it didn’t. He didn’t magically make me unafraid. I don’t think Tetsu would hurt me, but I can’t help asking myself what if, you know?”

“Well, that’s silly,” Bokuto says, and you blink at him in surprise, your hackles rising. “Love can be an at-first-sight-thing, but relationships are work. It’s the love that makes it worth it.”

“That’s… really wise, Bo,” you say in surprise. “Have you been reading couple’s therapy books?”

“I’m just that smart,” he tells you, and you grin.

You’ve just finished your glass when two hands land heavy on your shoulders, and you relax into their familiar feel.

“Y/N,” Tetsurō says, pulling you to your feet and cuddling you to his chest. “Missed ya.” His voice is sleep-rough and slurred, so you can tell the alcohol hasn’t worked its way out of his system.

“Hi,” you say affectionately, reaching up to cup his face.

“Bedtime,” he says firmly.

“Night, Bo!” You call, watching the big man wave at you as you’re dragged out of the kitchen and to the spare bedroom, where your boyfriend collapses on top of you, yawning into your skin.

“Mm, bedtime,” he says. You squirm out from beneath him and arrange yourself in a more comfortable position, still touching him as much as possible. “I missed you so much, but you came to see me!”

“Of course I did,” you say softly. “I’m always here for you, you know that.”

“No,” he shakes his head childishly. “Been scared, beloved, thought you were gonna leave. Don’t go,” he begs. “I love you.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “And I love you more.”

His only response is a soft snore.

As you observe him in the moonlight— your heart, fluttering like a trapped bird, won’t let you sleep— you think about what Bokuto said. Relationships are work. You think about how you’ve chosen to love Tetsu, chosen him again and again and been chosen in return, and how love is a series of steps toward each other. You’ve been walking, you think, and with a gulp of cool air, you feel your heart settle, still beating a little harder whenever your eyes pass over his handsome face. You want to run.

You wake when he does, mostly because he jolts violently and makes a sound of surprise.

“We’re at Bo’s,” you grumble, turning over and trying to return to the best sleep you’ve had since the proposal. “I came to pick you up and ended up staying the night.”

“Oh,” he says, and it’s childish and soft. “I feel unwell.”

Because you love him, you drag yourself out from beneath the sheets and to the bathroom, where you rub his back as he vomits and support him as he sways while rinsing out his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come,” he tells you as you bid Bokuto and Akaashi goodbye.

“Don’t be silly, of course I did. I wanted to.”

“If you’re sure,” he mumbles, and then: “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Tetsurō,” you say. “We should probably talk, though. Is there any chance you can take the day off? You still look a little sick.”

“‘M fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You take your car home and I’ll go to work.”

“Please?” You ask, and looking at your pleading eyes, he caves. “Fine. I’ll go in later.”

That suits your purposes.

Again, the car ride is awkward and devoid of sound beyond clearing of throats and occasional light sniffling. Your own clarity doesn’t extend to his, but you've dragged him into your issues, and you regret it sorely.

You pull into the driveway, parking the car, and before you can exit, Tetsurō reaches out to wrap a hand around your wrist.

“So what did you want to talk about?” In the morning light, he looks like shit, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he’s been trying to work himself to death. There’s pain and desperation poorly concealed in his brown eyes, and you can freely admit it hurts to know you put it there.

“Uh, Bo told me you thought I wanted to leave you,” you say, and then mentally smack yourself for starting so ominously. “But I don’t! I don’t want to break up, at all.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “That’s good.”

“If you want to,” you say, nervous. “I understand. That is totally on the table.” He tries to interrupt, but you push through, afraid that if you stop you won’t speak again. “I’ve put you through a lot these past couple weeks, and I just want to explain myself before we come to any conclusions. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and a familiar smirk is tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want to break up, by the way.”

“Good,” you breathe, and you knew it but it’s so good to hear him say. “I knew you were going to propose, and I wanted to say yes— I want to say yes. If you proposed now, I would say yes. I just didn’t realize how much I’d idolized this, like, fairytale romance, where everything would magically click into place. When it didn’t, I was so scared, I thought it would break us, and I never want that. I was,” and that familiar anxiety is choking you again. You swallow it down. “I was scared of our relationship falling apart and it only made things worse. That’s— that’s why I said no.”

“Technically,” Tetsurō points out. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, and suddenly it’s like nothing was ever wrong at all.

A week of bliss later (absence makes the heart grow fonder, and how absent you two were from each other), Tetsurō comes home from work, exhausted and ready to be rejuvenated by a night of relaxation with you, to find you already in the kitchen.

“Ow— shit, shit,” you’re yelping as you grab a hot pan from the oven, dropping it with a clatter on the counter.

“Hey, kitten,” he greets you, and you shriek.

“Why are you home! Welcome home, I mean. Go to your room!” As an afterthought, you add: “And wear something nice!”

You open the door a cool twenty minutes later, wearing the same outfit you had worn that night beneath the glass sky, leaning on your bedroom doorframe.

“Sir,” you say, a small, restrained smile playing on your lips.

“Beloved, what’s going on?” He asks you, but you just turn and lead him down the hall to your dining room, where tall taper candles cast flickering golden light over a (mostly) perfectly done meal, bubbly in glasses, your nicest tablecloth.

“Nothing,” you say, and he casts you a disbelieving look. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he raises his hands, taking a seat. “Wow, this looks good; you spoil me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you wave it off. “Thank you.”

He waits for a moment. You stare back at him. He raises his fork.

“Wait, no, don’t eat yet,” you panic, grabbing his wrist. He looks down at your hand, arches a brow. You make a sweet, embarrassed noise, and pull it back. “I have something to say.”

“Okay,” he says, and he can’t conceal his smile.

“Kuroo Tetsurō,” you start.

“That’s my name,” he says, and you glare at him.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, Tetsu, I’m as in love with you now as I was the day I first met you: so much it scares me. I remember that the first thing I thought when I saw you was I want him so bad. I’ve grown a lot since then— I’ve grown a lot in the last few weeks.”

“So have I,” he murmurs. This time, you just smile softly at him before continuing. You sink to one knee slowly, still maintaining eye contact as you tell him about your relationship from your point of view. You tell him about the ways he’s made you better, that he makes you want to be better. You tell him— again— that the hardships have never been hard because of him, that the peaks have been enhanced because of him. You tell him that you’ve never been so sure of your trust in someone, had someone you could rely on like you can on him. You tell him that you love him more than anyone in the world.

“So,” you breathe, drawing a blue velvet box out of your pocket, clicking it open to reveal a ring, matching the one he bought you in a different size. You crawl forward on your knees, laughing a little at the awkward movement, and reach up with your left hand to wipe the tears off his face, a few of your own sliding off your chin. “Even though I might be a little broken, if you’ll have me, I’ll ask: Tetsurō, baby, beloved, will you marry me?”

The moment isn’t perfect, and your breath comes only unevenly. It’s not a night beneath the stars, surrounded by finery and smothered by expectation.

“Yes,” he says, and then he’s got one hand splayed over your back and the other in your hand, spinning you around. You cling to him, laughing, and then you’re pressing kisses all over his face.

“Y/N,” he says when he steadies the both of you, and his face makes the transition to seriousness. “I don’t want to hear you call yourself broken again. You are human, okay? Human and perfect and Iloveyousomuch.”

“Okay,” you say, and he kisses you, long and slow and tasting like bubbly. “Wait, wait,” you push at his chest. “Hand.”

When you slide the ring onto his fourth finger, it fits just right.

[unfinshedsentec]

Heyloo! If it’s okay can I request a draken x fem or gn reader who’s being harassed by their ex gf b/c she wants y/n back and draken sees this and intervenes saying he’s their bf n y/ns ex doesn’t believe him so he kisses them and their ex gets the hint and leaves, leaving them still in a kiss n when they pull away they are both flustered n drakens like I just kissed an attractive stranger and y/n n him get to know each other better after the whole ordeal and later get together:3

Hey love! Thank you for requesting!! I sort’ve mixed this with another request, so it won’t be exact, but it’s still the same gist❤️

I love you|| k.ryuuguji

reader is gender neutral!

word count: 2.1k+

character pairing: ryuuguji ken (draken) x reader

tw: cursing and toxicity (toxic ex)

It had been December 1st yet; you were in a pair of shorts and cursing out the annoyingly warm weather. Sweat trickled down your soft skin as you panted while walking up the steep incline that led to place you wanted to go, the movie theater, which was also the place that motivated you to move on, partly due to its nice air conditioning.

But that wasn't the only reason you wanted to be there. Naturally, you were also going to the theater to see a particular movie that you had been really looking forward to. Unfortunately, you were only able to see it just now because the theater was packed full, but , you finally managed to book a ticket and now, you could finally see the movie which you anticipated would be one of the best one's you'd ever see.

What you didn't anticipate was the insane weather of the day. Luckily, you quickly arrived at the theater, which you lived not far from, got approval to go in, and grabbed your favorite snacks for the movie.

Though, you being stupid and excited led you to splurging on expensive movie snacks, and by the time everything had been made, your arms were full of popcorn, drinks, candy, and even pretzels. Struggling, you made your way down to the designated theater and sat down at the closest seat you could, not being able to hold everything any longer.

Peacefully, you situated yourself, and then turned your fascinated eyes towards the large screen in front of you, which was playing the usual advertisements. You casually popped a handful of popcorn in your mouth while you intently watched the upcoming movies, and in your mind, you thought about which ones you wanted to see.

Many advertisements played, and many handfuls of popcorn had been shoved in your mouth, when finally, the movie you had been waiting so long to see finally started. You practically started screaming when you saw the beginning credits, purely from anticipation and excitement. And, from there, your full attention had been turned towards the screen

Well, that was until someone had sat down in the seat directly next to you, despite the row full of empty seats next to you. You questioned the strange action at first, but you ultimately brushed it off and turned your attention back towards the movie.

But suddenly, the unknown person spoke, absolutely shocking you.

"Is all that for you?" The all too familiar voice caused your head to snap to your side, shock being written on your originally excited features. Waves of dread, and anxiety bubbled up in your chest. You didn't even have to look at the person next to you to know who they were. You already knew that your ex was sitting beside you.

The very one that ruined you.

Hearing your ex's voice shook you enough that it took you a moment to collect yourself, at least to the extent where you could talk again. Masking your surprise and albeit, fear, you spoke to him for the first time after a year since your breakup.

"N-no, actually it's for me....and my boyfriend" you blatantly lied, all you previously gained confidence going down the drain after hearing his voice. You practically shook, barely being able to take being around him.

After all, being around him reminded you of how broken he made you feel, and to be honest, it made you feel completely and utterly broken again.

"Awww c'mon, there's no way you replaced me that quickly" he replied. "Besides, there isn't a soul around here..." The male next to you leaned in closer to you, so close that you could feel his warm breath brush against your face. Although you couldn't see him, you instinctively knew a wicked smile was on his face.

"Well...that's because he's using the restroom ass-hat, now leave me the hell al- "Unintentionally, you cut yourself off from your own gasp, as his hand reached up to your check and yanked your face closer to his. Now, you were so close to him that his breath brushed up against your trembling lips. His thumb stroked your check, as he brought you even closer.

"Don't forget baby, no one can love you like I do. I know it won't be long before you come runnin' back to me.... after all, you're so deeply in love and obsessed with me. You'll never love anyone like you love me"

You struggled to escape his tight grasp, but to no avail. Desperately, you tried to move your face further away from his, as your reeled in disgust. Silently, you shivered, your mind going into overdrive. His words were, once again, getting into your broken mind, like they always did.

But this time, unlike the past, you were different. You were more independent and knew your worth, so you shook off his words, not letting them get to you again. But still, you were stuck in a trance.

His trance.

However, as you continued wriggling away from your ex, an unfamiliar presence and voice came from behind you, snapping you out of your ex's trance. 

"Yo dude, the hell are you doing to my s/o?" the voice angrily gritted.

"Ha, s/o?! As if- "Your ex's words stopped as he looked at the figure behind you, and slowly his hand slid off your face and returned towards his own body. Out of curiosity, you turned too, hoping to see your savior. But what you saw certainly wasn't what you were expecting.

Behind you stood a tall guy, one that was at least six feet tall. From the light of the movie, you could see he had blonde hair and dark black eyes. His eyes and face held anger as he looked at your ex in pure disgust. He also had a dragon tattoo on the left side of his temple, making his look even more intimidating.

"I'm gonna say this once and once only, get the fuck away from 'em, or else, I'll kill you" he darkly said.

"You really tryin' to pick a fight with me?" Your ex responded, storming over to the much taller guy. While your ex was trying to act brave, you could see his trembling body and bad posture as he shrunk into himself.

He really looked like he was going to piss himself.

"Eh, you wanna go?" the tall guy said, cracking his neck while an almost menacing smirk came onto his face.

"Uh-umm....”

"C'mon, let's go"

"...actually, I'm all good! You can have them!" Your ex said, running out of the theater with his tale between his legs. Both yours and the unfamiliar guy's eyes watched him as he left with pure tears streaming down his face.

An amused laugh came out of the taller guys as you too, amusedly watched your ex leave.

"Damn, talk about a big head for someone's body" the unfamiliar guy chuckled, his now softer gaze turning towards yours, though, he still had a bit of a stoic expression on his face.

"Y-yeah"

Awkward silence filled the small space between the both of you, you in particular not knowing what to say. Should you thank him? Or should you offer him the seat next to you? Truth be told, your anxiety made you want to say nothing, in fear of saying something stupid.

Thankfully, while you were overthinking, the blonde spoke for you.

"Mind if I sit there?" he said, pointing at the seat next to you. "Just in case that weirdo comes runnin' back"

"Yeah! O-of course" you shakily spoke, the new guy now sitting next to you.

Once again, silence came between the both of you, both of you turning your to the big screen. However, your mind dug at you, as you felt guilty for not thanking him. He helped you, the least you could do was thank him, right?

You just hoped you wouldn't say something stupid in the process.

"Hey...ummm, thanks for helping me back there"

"Huh, of course. I fuckin hate assholes like that" he replied, a hint of anger being in his voice. "Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Draken by the way"

"Y/n. I'm Y/n L/n"

"Nice to meet ya Y/n, if you need help with assholes like that again just call me" Draken then pulled out his phone and probed you to put your own number in.

"I will.... thank you" you replied, doing just that. You weren't expecting him to be so nice to you, but you were beyond thankful for it.  You were beyond thankful for him. And if you were honest, you were sure you'd need his help again.

After all, you clearly had pretty bad luck.

And, ironically enough, you ended up needing Draken's help more than once after the movie theater. You ended up calling him quite often, so much so that you met his friend, Mikey, who often tagged along with him.

You even ended up taking both him and Mikey out as a thank you, more than once.

Soon enough, you ended up calling Draken for other things besides your ridiculous ex's. Before you knew it, you were friends with him. Friends meant spending time with each other, and you spent A LOT of time with Draken. And before you knew it, you found yourself longing to be with Draken all the time.

You felt empty without him, and when you did see him, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off him. When you were around him, your heartbeat so much that you could hear it echo throughout your whole body. Butterflies entered your stomach every time his gaze turned towards you.

Long story short, you had caught feelings for him. Ones so intense that you began to think you loved him, really loved him.

The only problem you had with your feelings was, you had no idea what to do with them.

You couldn't resort to your friends because they had no idea who Draken was, Google was useless when it came to love, and you certainly didn't have any ideas yourself. So, you resorted to the shorter blonde boy that knew Draken better than anyone, the very one that managed to force you into being friends.

That's right, you went to Mikey for help.

"What do I do Mikey?" you shakily questioned, beginning to get desperate.

"Ehhh, what do ya mean, what do you have to do? You confess!"

"But what if he says no!"

"Ha, he definitely won't"

"Bu-"

"CONFESS TO HIM!!! TELL HIM, I LOVE YOU!! IF YOU DON'T DO IT, I WILL!!" he yelled, throwing his Dorayaki at you.

"Alright...alright, I'll do it now" you quickly gave in, knowing Mikey would absolutely confess for you, and in the most embarrassing way too.

"Good! Do it now!"

"I didn't mean literally n-"

"KEN-CHIN, GET OVER HERE!!" Mikey yelled without a moment wasted.

"Mikey!!" you yelled, a bright pink blush appearing on your cheeks. 

You really weren't expecting to confess to him so soon, but clearly you didn't have much of an option. Truth be told, you were scared. You didn't want to ruin your friendship, let alone the ones you made with Draken's friends. But still, there was a part of you that was excited.

You loved Draken and wanted to be with him. You just hoped he felt the same.

"What'cha need Mikey?"

"Nothing!" he yelled, running away.

Draken stood there completely and utterly confused, his eyes following the blonde, who went behind a tree.

"The hell?" he questioned.

"H-he called you over for me"

"Oh, what's up then?" he said, moving his glance back towards you. You, shrunk in response, your own gaze moving towards the cement below you, you not being confident enough to look at him in the eyes.

"I just needed to...I needed to tell you that... I love you!" you blurted out, finally looking at him.

Silence filled the air between the both of you, like the one that was there when you first met. A shocked expression formed on Draken's face, as he simply stared at you, clearly overtaken by shock. You, shrunk even more by the simple blank look in his eyes.

Truth be told, you almost ran away put of embarrassment, but suddenly, his shocked expression turned into one full of relief and admiration.

"Took ya long enough, idiot" he replied, a small smile appearing on his face. "I love you too"

And from that day on, you finally became happy. Draken was great to you, as he always had been. He protected you yet made sure to love you. And you, did the same.

Finally, you were truly loved. You were truly happy.

And it's all because of some random man that helped you with your stupid ex

//end

[inkykeiji]

anonymous said: i would like to suggest, keigo having you on speed dial to call you up and use you whenever he's too pent up because his public girlfriend wont sleep with him. you feel guilty for being the other woman but you were such a big fan of his. you want to end this but keigo isn’t about to let his little bird get away

warnings: 18+, dubcon, rough sex, manipulation, minimal prep, cheating, mentions of caning, noncon photography, dacryphilia, slight degradation peppered with slight praise

words: 3.3k

Gentle vibrations coursing through your mattress and quivering softly against your skin rouse you from your half-conscious state, bleary eyes blinking slowly as you gain your bearings again. It’s late, the wall of full-length crystal windows allowing the moon’s beams to stream into your condo, weakened by the magnificent glow of the city below it, encased in halos of turquoise and jade and violet.

And then, the vibrations start again, and your heart drops.

You know who it is before you even glance at the screen of your phone. Only one person ever calls you this late.

You had been expecting it, to be honest. Crime has hit an all-time high, and it seems like every time you turn on the news, or scroll through your social media feed, there’s a fresh story about a new villain he’s just defeated, headlines in big bold letters, peppered with photos of windswept golden hair and an award-winning smile, or grainy footage of him zipping around, so fast he’s just a blur of gold and crimson, as he neutralizes the enemy, serif words chalk full of praise for the Number Two Hero. As always.  

It makes you sick, makes your stomach churn with a toxic mixture of guilt and revulsion.

Yet, in spite of this, your hand moves on its own, disobeying your brain as it screams at it to let it go to voicemail, just this once, thumb pressing that little green button before bringing the heavy electronic to your ear, quiet and groggy as you answer.

“I’m in the lobby,” his smooth voice, always laced with just a hint of cheekiness, flows through the speaker like melted chocolate, dark and decadent. “Let me in?”

You know he could get in on his own if he really wanted to—he chose this building for a reason, after all. He chose you for a reason, after all.

He could’ve had anyone—could still have anyone—he wanted, with a plethora of beautiful, adoring, devoted young women hanging on his every word, but he picked you. He picked you, because no matter how dedicated and supportive all of those other girls are, none of them have ever loved him the way you did—the way you do.

The feeling lingers, much to your disgust. It lingers when he gives you that gentle, private smile—the one the cameras have never seen, the one that he saves just for you, in the middle of the night after he’s filled you with cum and sucked his name into your neck; lingers when he murmurs sweet nothings into your hair, arms curling around you in the early morning sun; lingers when he fucks you stupid, until you’re a sobbing, drooling mess, until all you can think about is his cock.

The soles of your bare feet echo as they pad against the marble floor, powerless to stop the heavy sigh that slips from between your lips as you fiddle with the little keypad close to the front door, those soft beepbeepbeeps forcing chills to skitter across your skin.

Once, this condo had been everything you had ever wanted. Once, you had considered yourself lucky to be the mistress of such a well-known, distinguished, so-called good man. Once, you had dreamt of him, every single night, of lazy smiles and easygoing drawls, of wicked golden eyes and matching tousled hair.

Once.

Now, it feels like nothing but a cold, empty cage. Fitting, you snort to yourself, shaking your head a little.

Now, all of those extravagant items he had bought for you—the expensive coffee machine, the stupidly massive 4K TV, all of the shimmering dresses and lavish coats, the silk sheets outfitting your gigantic bed, the delicate Agent Provocateur lingerie—have bile rising in the back of your throat, coating your tongue in bitterness, dread sinking thick and heavy in your stomach, turning your blood to concrete in your veins.

Now, that golden gaze makes your skin crawl, those large, impossibly soft hands—protected by those ridiculous gloves, of course—make you want to scrub your body with scalding water until it’s raw, until you’ve ridded yourself of his stare, of his touch, of his scent—sickly sweet and sticky like toffee, blazing and spicy like cinnamon.

And yet, the feeling still lingers, taking root deep at the very core of your body, feeding off your soul like a fucking parasite.

Teeth clack against yours the moment your front door swings open, your body slammed up against the wall a second later as he skillfully kicks the door shut, producing an echo of tremors through the surrounding walls much too loud for three in the morning.

Hands, silky and smooth, are gliding up your bare thighs, playing with the hem of your lacy babydoll slip, lithe fingers tangling in it and pulling as he sucks on your tongue.

“Missed you,” he mumbles between kisses, catching your bottom lip and tugging on it just to hear you whine, a delicious chuckle vibrating against your mouth a moment later, inspiring a shameful, scalding heat to begin spreading in the pit of your belly. “So much,”

“Did you?” and you hate how breathless you already are, hate the way your head tilts and neck arches as his lips travel down the sensitive skin, nipping gently with his front teeth.

“You know I did,” he singsongs, but you can hear the irritation sown into his tone. Hands grip your shoulders, pinning you against the wall, a soft noise of surprise escaping your lips. “Mm,” he hums appreciatively, pulling back a little as lidded eyes scan your form, dark like thick caramel when they meet yours again. “You know this one’s my favourite,”

It is, composed entirely of scarlet lace that dips just below your sternum, the delicate material clinging to your body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination.

His hands roam, taking the hem of the dainty fabric with him as he pushes it over your hips, up your abdomen and to your breasts, before letting the garment slide down your body again.

The softest, sweetest mewl of his name escapes your lips as the tip of his tongue flicks over a lace covered nipple, circling it once before taking it between his teeth and tugging slightly.

Another laugh, deep and dark, vibrates against your chest, while a hand slips between your thighs, a soft groan rumbling in his chest.

“Such a good, good girl for me, aren’t you?” Two fingers rub achingly slow circles into your clit, Keigo’s tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at a pert nipple again, drenching the lace in saliva. “Following the rules, just like I asked,”

A whimper catches in your throat and you nod, spikes of sharp fear shooting through your stomach as faded memories float languidly through your mind. You can barely remember it, brain so delirious from the pain that you hardly retained any of the experience, but the sound of the cane slicing through the air, mingled with the sound of your own wails echoing throughout the bachelor condo, the intense sting of its impact against your bare skin, the ache in your fingers from gripping the bedsheets that lingered for days later…Those you remember.

He had turned your backside into a brilliant piece of art, you remember him telling you, the morning after when gentle fingers were rubbing cream into your wounds, the obnoxious click! of his phone camera sounding a few moments later seared into your memory. Such a beautiful masterpiece, full of periwinkle and indigo, and it was all for him—because of him.

You couldn’t sit properly for a week and a half after the incident, and that you’ll never forget, either.

All because you had broken one teeny tiny rule, a rule you didn’t even know was a rule, a rule you thought he had been joking about—no panties when sleeping.

Two fingers pushing into your little hole snaps your mind back to the present, a whine falling from your lips as your hips push towards his palm, instantly craving more of him. Curved lips, formed in the shape of a sinful smirk, drag along your jaw as he murmurs to you. You like that, baby? Huh? Did you miss me as much as I missed you?

It’s only been a few days since you saw him last, but you find yourself nodding anyway, breathy little yeses exhaled through parted lips as his fingers pump in and out of you, knuckles curling with each pull out, catching on the spot that has you moaning out his name, that has you pathetically trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, that has you begging for more.

He’s always impatient anyway, barely takes any time to stretch you out—just enough so it isn’t uncomfortable for him, really, scissoring his fingers and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit until it’s throbbing, until he deems you wet enough to take him.

The drywall quivers as Keigo deftly spins you, shoving you against it, a low whine sounding in the back of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck you in this,” he says decidedly, as if he’s just chosen what his lunch will be for tomorrow, big hands roaming over your ass, kneading and squeezing.

“Keigo, please, not here—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, and his voice is so gentle, so tender, gathering the delicate lace in his fists and pushing it up, up, up, until it bunches around your waist. “Be good for me, yeah?” sharp teeth sink into the back of your neck hard enough to break the skin, an alpha marking his territory, your responding cry muffled by the wall. “I’ve had such a long day,” he mumbles against you, licking over the bite. “Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you all day, y’know,” his hips grind against your ass, hard cock nearly slipping between your cheeks and accentuating his point, the thin fabric of his grey sweatpants being the only barrier between you. “And that bitch couldn’t satisfy me right even if her life depended on it,”

His tone darkens at the end, and you hate the way it still manages to send a flock of butterflies fluttering through your stomach, hole clenching greedily around nothing.

“So be a good girl—” a slap echoes throughout the empty apartment as his palm collides with your skin. “—and lift your hips for me,”

And then he’s tugging, hands wrapped around your hips as blunt nails dig into your flesh and hoist up, forcing you onto your tiptoes. You obey, of course, because you always obey, aiding him by pushing your ass towards him, chest and cheek pressed up against the wall.

A shiver courses through your body as he leans away for a moment, taking his body heat with him, the shutter of his phone camera click!ing a few times in quick succession.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, heat returning as he taps the head of his cock against your soaking cunt, reveling in the soft, wet little slaps. “You’re so beautiful,”

And he sounds so honest, so sincere, unexpected tears springing into your eyes and blurring your vision. Because his words shouldn’t, they absolutely shouldn’t inspire a deep warmth to bloom in your chest, but they do. It’s selfish, and pathetic, and derisive, sour shame taking root at your core a moment later, black and inky and rushing through your veins, eating up the warmth in an instant.

But Keigo shatters it all a second later with one quick, sharp thrust, burying himself deep within you, cockhead nudging against your cervix.

A yelp hitches in your throat at the sudden action, tears spilling over your lashline as your little hole burns, struggling to accommodate his girth. “Too thick, Kei, too thick,”

He doesn’t care, he tells you with a breathless chuckle, hips setting a punishing pace right from the start, refusing you even a moment to adjust. He knows you love it, he says to you, words growled into your ear with a sadistic smile, punctuated by the harsh slap of skin against skin that accompanies each of his thrusts.

Your nails scrape against the drywall, trying in vain to grip something, anything, to keep you upright as he pounds into you. A harsh gust of wind swirls around you, cool against your heated skin, and then his wings are caging you in, slamming against the drywall with such force that bits of it crack and crumble. Your hands fly out to grip them, little fingers curling around the edges as you try to keep yourself steady for him.

The sweetest moan escapes his lips, hoarse and whiny in the back of his throat as you clamp down on them, fingers slotting through the sharp feathers, hissing through your teeth as they leave superficial cuts along your sensitive skin.

It’s beginning to build, that familiar heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter and tighter with each snap of his hips, broken whimpers and airy little Kei!’s slipping from your parted lips as your legs begin to tremble.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest as he tells you to keep standing, damn it, the order spit through clenched teeth as his fingers grip your hips, spots of blue and purple blooming under them.

You’re trying, you want to tell him, words leaving your throat in the form of pitiful little sobs as your fingers clutch his wings, joints aching and stiff from being curled in the same position for so long.

The heat is rising, higher and higher and higher until your choking on it, scalding your tongue and blistering your throat.

“M’gonna—” you gasp out, the words garbled with spit as teary eyes roll back in your skull.

“Yeah—Y-Yeah,” he encourages breathlessly, hips gaining more speed with each piston into you, cock repeatedly dragging against that spot, the one that alights your entire body, that shoots tingling sparks up your spine and through your veins. “C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum—” a low grunt cuts him off, hips stuttering. “—Cum on my cock,”

It’s pathetic, really, how quickly your body obeys, knees nearly buckling as uncontrollable mewls of his name escape your lips, catching in your chest with his ruthless thrusts as you gush around him, cute little cunt clenching almost painfully on his thick cock.

“Good—Good girl. Now beg for it,” and he’s nearly whining, voice cracking as his movements begin to falter.

Pleads spill from your lips before you even know what you’re saying, voice absolutely wrecked as you beg for him to please, gimme your cum, please k-keigo, want it, I want it, I want it, fill me up, please, please, please!

Honestly, how can he deny you when you’re asking so nicely, so prettily for him, hips messily pounding into you three more times before he stills, the weight of his body crushing you against the wall as his cock pulses, filling you with ropes upon ropes of thick, hot cum.  

And he’s relentless that night, insatiable that night—fucking you over the arm of the couch, deep and hard and fast, cockhead slamming against your bruised cervix as a hand fists in your hair and yanks you up, snarling out the dirtiest words as his lips graze your ear, then praising you for being such a good little cockslut for him; fucking you in your giant jacuzzi bathtub, nimble fingers digging into your hips as he forces you to ride him, reinstating the fresh bruises from not long before; fucking you into your plush mattress, sharp hipbones signing his name into the soft flesh of your inner thighs in blotches of navy and violet as endless tears leak from your eyes, streaming into your hairline, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

The sun is just beginning to rise, peaking over the horizon and painting the city in a soft golden light. The buzzing of a phone on your nightstand rouses you from your half-asleep state for the second time, lifting your head to blink blearily at Keigo, who rolls his eyes without even glancing at the caller. It’s her—you know it is, calling to ask him where the hell he is, if he’s alright, if he’s coming home soon, if he’s safe—and acrid guilt settles on your tongue.

He lets it go to voicemail without a second thought.

“I hate her,”

“Break up with her, then,”

“And what, date you?” he snorts, and although you know he doesn’t mean for it to, it still stings. Rolling over, he turns to face you, his head propped up by his palm. “You know I wish I could,” he says softly, his free hand reaching out to cup your cheek, fingers grazing your cheekbone. “You know I would if I could, but…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to—you’ve heard it a thousand times before.

Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

But she’s the daughter of a world-renowned, established hero—you’re a quirkless nobody. But she’s good for his image, good for his brand—you’re not.

Sometimes, though, after he’s fucked you into a boneless mess, when he’s laying in your bed with a cigarette perched so artfully between his fingers, he opens up, allows you a tiny peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Tonight it’s something you’ve heard before, but you don’t mind listening anyway, drawing nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, little fingers following the dips and curves of strong muscle, gliding under smooth skin that almost shines gold in the pale morning light, little blonde hairs catching in the beams as he breathes slowly.

It fucking sucks, he’s telling you, honey eyes trained on your finger’s movements, following its ministrations in a trance. He never wanted this—never asked for this, he admits to you, as he has so many times before, at four in the morning when the city is at its quietest, just before it begins to wake with the dawn of the sun. He hates it, all of the obligations and responsibilities that have been thrust upon him since he was a child.

“Sometimes I feel like my spine’s gonna fucking crack under all of it,” he laughs a little, though it’s wobbly and frail, looking away from you as he stubs out his cigarette.

“It’s just exhausting,” he flops onto his back with a deep sigh, staring up at the ceiling. And you can hear it, his voice heavy with fatigue, with the duties that have been forced upon him, the ideals he’s been forced to uphold, laced with a hint of melancholy.

It makes your heart ache, despite the derision you now feel towards him. You don’t know his struggle—never could, never will—but he looks so…sad, eyes desolate as they gaze up at nothing, lips pressed together in a thin line. And that spark of love, the one you repeatedly keep trying to snuff out, blazes with the need to comfort him.

Reaching over, gentle fingers card through his sweaty golden locks, soft and shining in the dim light. His chest rises and falls with the effort of another sigh, eyes closing briefly at your touch, nuzzling ever so slightly into you.

“But at least I’ve got you, right?” he rolls onto his side, hands finding your hips as he drags you towards him, pulling you into his embrace and crushing your body against his chest. “You’ll never leave me, will you, my little bird,”

And although it isn’t phrased as a question—because he already knows the answer—you respond anyway, swallowing thickly against the acid rising past the lump lodged in your throat. “No, Keigo, never,”

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Not sure what kind of AUs you write, but could you possibly do a Mob!Bucky x Soft!reader? And by soft!reader I mean she’s generally very kind, gentle, and cutesy, the “wouldn’t hurt a fly” type, except when defending those she cares for, then it’s like someone flipped a switch and she’s hell on wheels lol

All Bark and No Bite

Summary: When you fell on hard times, comfort came from the very last place you expected

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Soft!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, intimidating behaviour

Author’s Note: I really loved this request :) thanks so much anon

---

Approaching the front door of your apartment, you heard low talking coming from inside. Your dad hadn’t mentioned anything about having guests over, but you were making his favourite spaghetti for dinner, so maybe he’d just invited a friend over to try it.

He loved showing you off to people, and you loved the proud smile he wore whenever he did.

You turned the key and pushed open the door, seeing your father in the front room, sitting beside a youngish man you didn’t recognise. Clean shaven with neatly slicked back hair and a pretty expensive-looking suit, he was absolutely nothing like the friends who were usually brought home for dinner.

As soon as your father saw you he jumped up from the couch, looking a little antsy. ‘Hi sweetie. This is Bucky, a friend from work.’ He walked over to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek, before turning round to look back at his friend. ‘This is my daughter, y/n.’

You gave Bucky a warm smile. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too darlin.’ He had a thick, deep Brooklyn accent that made your stomach tingle.

‘Are you staying for dinner? I’m making spaghetti.’

Bucky sent a nervous look towards your father, who seemed to be attempting a very subtle head shake, hoping you wouldn’t notice. There was definitely something weird going on, you could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife.

‘That’s alright.’ Bucky eventually replied. ‘I should get going soon.’

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence as you took your coat off and hung it by the front door. Only when you walked through to the kitchen did you hear the deep mumbling start again, far too quietly for you to make out any of the words.

You heard the front door open and close, then you heard your dad quickly shuffle into his bedroom.

---

An hour after the guest had left, dinner was ready, but your father was still locked away. You walked to his bedroom and timidly knocked on the door, inching it open to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

‘Dad? Is everything alright?’

He looked up, you could immediately tell he’d been crying. He sighed and patted the bed, inviting you to sit by him.

‘I sorry, sweetheart.’ He reached out for your hand and squeezed it. ‘You know we’ve been struggling a bit lately and, well, I owe some money to some bad people.’

‘That man, who was here earlier?’

‘He’s one of them, but he was here to try and help me out. If they found out he could get into a lot of trouble.’

His grip on your hand was tightening, almost to the point of being painful, but if that’s what he needed to do to keep him grounded then you were happy to let him.

‘How bad is it?’

He turned to look at you, tears welling in his eyes. ‘We could lose everything.’

That hit you like a punch in the gut. He looked absolutely devastated. You hadn’t seen him like this for years, not since you lost your mother.

You moved your arms to circle his shoulders, giving him a tight hug.

‘It’s okay dad. We’ll figure it out.’

---

The next day, while your father was out at work, you were woken by aggressive banging on your apartment door. You considered ignoring it, but they didn’t let up, almost thudding the door off of its hinges.

Opening it cautiously, you saw two burly, intimidating guys staring down at you, and Bucky stood slightly behind them looking a little sheepish.

‘Hey there sweet thing.’ The one at the front said, his alcoholic breath washing over your face. ‘Is your daddy home?’

‘No, he’s not.’ Bucky’s face dropped slightly, obviously shocked by your firm tone.

‘Can you tell me where he is sugar?’

‘No.’

Bad breath gave a low, sinister chuckle before stepping forward and lowering his face to level with yours. ‘I really think you should. We don’t want to have to do this the hard way.’

You were probably being stupid and reckless, but no way were you going to be intimidated into compromising your dad’s safety. You leaned in even closer to your unwelcome guest, leaving barely an inch between your forehead and his.

‘If you so much as touch me, I’ll scream this fucking building to the ground.’

It took a second, but he eventually backed up. ‘I like you, kid. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.’

He turned and walked away, the other man you didn’t recognise following him closely. Bucky hesitated for a second, staring at you while his mouth curled into an impressed smile. He grabbed a cigarette from behind his ear and put it between his lips, winking at you before finally following his colleagues down the hallway.

After firmly pushing the door closed and sliding the chain across, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a few shaky breaths, thankful that you’d come out of that interaction unscathed.

You never told your father what had happened. He had enough to worry about.

---

A few days later, you were working a double shift at the diner, trying to earn as much money as you could to help your dad out. You’d been on your feet for thirteen hours straight but, thankfully, it was pretty late, so the place was almost completely dead.

You were filling up the coffee machine with beans when you heard the bell above the door go. Turning your head, you saw Bucky saunter in, eyes glued to the newspaper in his hands.

He took a seat at the counter. You wiped your hands on your apron and went to stand opposite him.

‘Hi there.’ He seemed to recognise your voice, his head snapped up as soon as you spoke.

‘Hey.’ A wide smile spread across his face. ‘I’ve never seen you in here before.’

‘I don’t usually do the graveyard shift. Just, y’know, trying to earn some extra money.’

His smile dropped slightly after hearing the exhaustion in your voice.

You hadn’t intended to make him feel guilty. If anything, you owed him your gratitude, cause knowing that there was someone else helping your father out made you feel so much better about this shitty situation.

‘Coffee?’ You chirped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

‘Great, thanks.’ You grabbed him a mug and started pouring. ‘I, uh- I’m really sorry about the other day. Doorstep intimidation was really unwarranted, I tried to convince them out of it.’

‘It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.’

He smirked slightly. ‘You handled it well enough. I was impressed.’

‘Oh I’m definitely all bark and no bite.’ You passed him his coffee and gave him a warm smile. ‘But keep that to yourself.’

Pottering around behind the counter for a while, you felt his gaze on you whenever you passed by him. It was actually quite nice, having this devilishly handsome man show some interest, so you found yourself coming up with as many excuses as possible to walk in front of him.

Ten-or-so minutes after he’d arrived, you had to duck into the kitchen briefly, and when you came out you found yourself pretty disappointed to see that he’d left.

You trudged over to his empty coffee mug, picking it up and double-taking when you saw that it’d been sitting on top of a fifty dollar note.

He must’ve left it by accident, surely? Fifty dollars is a ridiculous tip for a cup of coffee.

You slid it into your apron, figuring you’d give it back next time you saw him. You could even use it as an excuse to get your dad to invite him back to the house, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to resort to that- you hoped that maybe he’d come around by choice.

---

It’d been a week since you’d seen Bucky at the diner, the fifty dollar note was still sitting in your bedside dresser. Your father had been going downhill, getting worse everyday, and the temptation to give the money to him was getting more and more difficult to resist.

Coming back from the grocery store, you climbed the stairs of your apartment building and turned into your hallway, the sight that greeted you making you stop dead.

Bucky was sitting outside your apartment, leaning against the door, looking like he’d just been in a horrific car crash. As soon as he saw you he struggled up onto his feet, the full extent of his injuries becoming apparent as you got closer.

‘I’m really sorry y/n, I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘God Bucky, what happened to you?’

‘They found out what I’ve been doing.’

Your eyes widened in shock. ‘They did all this just because you helped my dad out?’

‘Not exactly.’ He winced as he limped out of the way of your door. ‘I haven’t been playing ball with them for years, I’m tangled up in more shit than I can keep track of.’

It was definitely a stupid idea to let a guy being chased by the mob into your home, you knew that, but you were really struggling not to feel sorry for him. He looked completely broken.

‘My dad’s gonna be out all day.’ His dejected nod at that was the final straw, you knew you had to help him. ‘But I’ll clean you up.’

You gave him a reassuring smile as you let him through the door. He steadily lowered himself onto the couch while you fetched a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you figured at the very least you could give him a bit of comfort and wipe all the dried blood off his face.

You took your makeshift first aid kit into the front room and sat next to him.

‘Look at me.’ He shifted his face towards you. You wrung out the cloth and gently pressed it to a deep gash above his eyebrow, making him wince. ‘I’m really sorry this happened, you didn’t deserve it.’

He chuckled lightly. ‘You gotta teach me how to do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Flick between the nicest and the scariest person I’ve ever met.’

You gave him a faintly amused smile. ‘We lost my mom when I was a kid, my dad needed all the kindness he could get.’ Bucky looked a little shocked at your honesty. ‘But he’s also stupid as hell, so he needs defending pretty often.’

‘He’s lucky to have you.’

Your eyes flicked to meet his, sensing a hint of sadness behind his words. ‘Do you have anyone?’

‘If I did, I probably wouldn’t have ended up beat to shit and on the run.’

You sighed and nodded, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and scanning your eyes over his face again. ‘That’s about the best I can do. You’ve stopped bleeding, but you won’t be winning any beauty contests for a while.’

He chuckled and ran his hand over his hair, taking a deep breath.

You were really conflicted about what to do next. Having him here could put both you and your father at risk, but were you really just going to throw him back out on the street? Anything could happen to him out there, you’d never forgive yourself if he would up in an even worse state.

‘Bucky, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.’

‘Thanks.’ You could almost see a wave of relief passing over him. ‘I don’t think my place is safe at the moment.’

You reached out for his hand and squeezed it tight, a calm silence falling as your eyes locked together. He slowly moved his free hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes, then letting it come to rest at your jawline, gently cupping the side of your face.

You closed your eyes and settled further into his hand, almost feeling yourself melting under his soft touch. Between working and looking after your father, you’d never really had the chance to get close to anyone like this, so these sensations were pretty new to you.

You felt his body shift slightly, and a second later felt his lips press against yours. It was unexpected, shocking you a little at first, but it didn’t take long before you relaxed completely and returned the kiss. It felt like there was electricity flowing through your body, making all your hairs stand up and your stomach do flips.

Getting a little carried away, you lifted your hands up to hold his face to, completely forgetting his extensive bruising. He winced slightly and pulled away.

‘Oh god, sorry I forgot.’

‘S’alright.’ He flashed you a wide smile. ‘I knew you had some bite in you.’

---

[writings-by-blondie]

~If The Stars Could Speak~

Soap Mactavish x F!Reader (teaspoon of Angst)

She was way too good for him and he knew that yet he couldn't forget the way her (h/c) hair fell over her shoulders, her laugh and a bit cold, but glittery look of her (e/c) eyes when their gaze met for the first time..it was like he could see universe in them.

He was in cold, gloomy, Russia, on a mission that was to be last, scribbling down words on the peace of paper, counting down hours till he get to hold her forever...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His most trusting man, and friend, Simon and him decided to lay back and enjoy some free time they were granted away from their ever noisy and ever busy camp.

They were at downtown, walking and talking about how tonight is their night - they will leave job at office and they will just enjoy strong alcohol and good music.

The night was a bit chilly, but nothing unusual for the late September.

That just meant that John will finally have chance to wear that nice black spitfire jacket he bought not long ago, and he looked well in it.

As the two men walked they spotted the bar they wanted to be in for the rest of the night, right outside of it, sticking out like a sore thumb was parked some expensive car that John didn't know how to indenify as. He wasn't a big car head like his friend.

"Look at this mate. Its Porsche, bet some meat heads are in this place",

said Simon chucking and eyeing the car and tilting his head slowly towards the bar.

Mactavish smirked and pushed his friend gently as he started walking in, "You have a problem with that or you're just scared of guys who drive expensive cars, eh?".

Inside of the bar you and small group of your friends were in VIP lounge. Infront of you, on small glass table was a bucket filled with ice that kept some red bulls and couple of Baltica beers cold.

You were drinking Jack Daniels, your glass half full. Being tipsy already, you fake-laughed at some perverse joke friend next to you finished telling.

Tonight, you really felt down. Truth to be told, you've been feeling under the weather last couple of months, nothing seemed to go the right way and nothing you did could change that feeling. On top of that your stupid poosh boyfriend broke up with you over text last week, and even though you understood that your friends cared for you and wanted you to forget about that fool and enjoy yourself, you still couldn't shake away the bitterness and just wanted to curl away in your bed, eat some strawberry ice cream and watch ‘Casablanca’.

But here you were, in a black dress that glittered under the light, your hair styled in lazy but not messy curls, and your over-expensive white heels. You looked like the IT girl that every man would want for them selves, to put you on pedestal and admire you.

(Y/n) leaned back in the black leather seat before she took a deep sigh that was followed by pouting and throwing down rest of the Jack that was in her glass down her throat. It burned for a bit, but the sweet flavour of alcohol made her want to drink more, so she opened the half empty bottle and poured more of the honey-coloured liquid into her glass.

She leaned in close to her friend on the left and whispered,

"I need to go and check my make up. Save a seat for me, and dont touch my bottle, I will know if you do.",

you almost groaned last words since you knew well that your friends loved to mess with you.

The (h/c) girl now stood up, taking her light coloured purse that matched with her heels, in her hands and started walking towards the washroom of the bar.

The floor was wooden, hard wood, after all the bar was made to accommodate high class people and to draw in tourists who had a lot of money to spend. Her heels making a little bit noise as her steps collided with the floor. It was a southing sound, like when rain hits the metal.

Her hips swayed as her dress didn't quite hug her whole neatly shaped figure, so it swayed with her movements, glittering under the dim light of the noisy bar.

She had to watch every step since she felt that the alcohol was indeed kicking in, but the song playing on stereos drew her attention and just for a tiny moment she forgot completely that she had heels on.

"Shit-", you muttered loudly as your purse left your hands and you could see the dark wooden floor getting close to you now, but you weren't colliding with it, instead you felt stern grip on your waist, feeling the coldness of someones hand that went straight to your skin, under the dress. You furrowed eyebrows before looking up, facing a, without any exaggeration, handsomest man you ever laid eyes upon.

His eyes, blue as the sea in mid July in the noon, almost glittering like a waves when they shine under the hot sun. His smell now invaded your nostrils touching your senses, stimulating them, wanting more of it. It was pine mixed with old brand of ‘denim’, manly but still subtle, just enough.

He smiled at you softly looking into your eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

"Careful now lass, we don’t want any broken bones yet, the night is still young eh?..", he spoke with thick and extremely attractive (for some reason) Scottish accent and she took deep breath in, as the man slowly placed the girl in front of him back on her legs, parting his hand with her waist. The girl licked her lover lip, realizing now that she was blushing way more than it was appropriate for this kind of situation and softly muttered, "Sorry.. The heels..", under her breath before she walked pass the man and disappeared into woman's washroom.

Mactavish however trailed her with his eyes, her long and subtly toned legs, and the way the subtle cutout on her dress reviled a bit of her thigh. She was clearly in distress and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself as he picked up her purse from the floor and sat down in the nearby booth with Simon.

"What the hell was that?", Riley said as he took off his black leather jacket, placing it next to him.

"It was like some scene out of those old movies mate. Its like, in that one moment, universe existed to put us together.", John smiled to himself, also placing his jacket next to him, being a bit surprised at his own words, he wasn't cheesy, but romantic? He was that.

And he would never let any of his friends know that since well, it was an army and he didn't need Ghost going around the base telling everyone that their captain was softie.

"Since when are you that cheeky eh? Maybe Price doesn't make you do enough pushups at morning." Simon smirked at his friend and raised his hand to call the bartender,

"Its a quote, some of us are literate cinema vise mate", Mactavish smirked back at him leaning over the table, trying to reach for his cigars in his back pocket, "But she is bonnie, nonetheless.".

In washroom you tried to steady your breathing. You put your hand on your chest and closed eyes, but the only thing you could see was the man's eyes and his face. Girl quickly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in big mirror that was placed on black and white tiles. (Y/n) looked at her face, noticing few spots where her make up was messed up, she pouted a bit and reached down on the sink for her purse, but her palm was met only with cold marble sink.

You quickly shot your gaze towards your hand, with your eyebrows furrowed. Eyes darting across the sink, around it and eventually around the whole washroom then the realisation hit you like a heavy boulder- you dropped your purse when you tripped, when he grabbed you.

"For fucks sake..", you muttered under the breath. It was enough humiliating that probably whole bar watched you stumble around like a new born deer and almost kiss the floor, but now you had to go retrieve your purse that was probably still on the ground and go back to washroom again looking like a lost highschool girl on the party.

You shook your head and realised that stupid anxiety attack got your judgment clouded- people fall every day, and they drop stuff everyday too.

The girl now straighten her posture, fixed her hair a bit and opened the door, exiting the cool room she was in before heading to the booth were she dropped her purse, but to her surprise the purse was not on the floor instead she heard familiar thick accent from the booth next to where she was standing,

"Looking for this lass?", the man waved with her purse smiling at her with one of his brows raised, his friend watching her, waiting for her next move.

You swallowed a big gulp, approaching the booth were the men were sitting slowly, taking your purse from the blue eyed man,

"Yes, thank you. Saving me from embarrassment.. Very noble of you.", you said with a now confident voice, not breaking eye contact with him. There was something about him, something unexplainable. It was like that with every second she looked at his face, at his slightly parted lips as a little smile formed on his face, you were losing grip on the time it was like a whole universe worked for you and him.

"Glad I could help ma'am. Those shoes do look dangerous, better watch your step.", the man spoke and she smiled at him, shyly nodding and turning around, breaking the eye contact with him, slowly walking towards her own booth where her friends were loud and drunk.

But every step you took was heavier than the last one, you didn't want to go there, you wanted to sit with him, smell that invading pine again, feel his touch again.. Was this alcohol that was in your bloodstream?

You stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, before turning on your heels and going back to the two man who were now smoking, their drinks were on their table as well.

"Oh screw it. Universe, dont make a fool out of me!", you thought internally as you approached back their booth, and both men looked up at you again.

"Do you need some help lassie? Are you feeling well?", the blue eyed man asked. You actually just now noticed that he had his hair styled as a mohawk and it suited him so nice, the scar over his eye stuck out as well.

You snapped out and shook your head in denial,

"Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?",

Ghost cleared his throat and looked away with a huge smirk over his face, avoiding John’s stern look. Mactavish moved himself to the left, leaving vacant place for the girl to sit and nodded his head down while putting out cigar that was already burned.

You sat next to him, smiling and biting inside of your cheek, leaving your purse on the edge of the table waving to the bartender to get his attention, you showed him universal sign for ‘another bottle’ and the man nod to you.

You returned your attention towards two men who were gazing at you the whole time.

"So, who wishes to start this AA meeting? How about you sir?", you pointed at men across from you. Both men cracked at your joke before the one you pointed at started talking,

"Name's Simon, that’s Soap- I mean John..", Simon barely held in his laugh looking away from the pair. You looked at men next to you and his jaw was clenched, he obviously didn't like that one.

"Y/N, nice to meet you fellas. This night needed some life in it. I was dying of boredom over at VIP's. Some fresh environment is nice..",

you smiled at John who was downing his beer, slowly he nod at the girl and the bartender finally came with your new bottle of Jack and three glasses for each of you.

"Put it on my bill, thanks.", you said and John eyed you as you opened the bottle of whiskey and poured everyone about a half of the glass, raising your own towards him as you finished. You smirked a bit, leaning towards him, unintentionally, your thigh subtly brushed against his light blue denim jeans.

"Cheers to not breaking bones and to concerned strangers.”, you said the words, slowly looking up at his eyes yet again.

John looked down at you, slowly colliding his glass with yours.

"Well, cheers to me I guess..", Simon muttered to himself and downed down the glass. You couldn't help but laugh sincerely, John joining you while rolling his eyes at Simon,

"Ghost getting ghosted, this will be the story to tell the mates back at camp for sure..".

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, leaving your glass on the table and crossing your legs, leaning back,

"Camp? What are you two like some secret agents or something?", you asked and John and Simon talked to you about their job deep into night. They explained their line or work as subtle as they could and shared some of the funniest moments from their missions with you.

John enjoyed your laugh, the way you blushed when you caught him looking at you, avoiding his gaze, how well your lips were glossed and your perfume that made him want to invade your neck and collarbone with small and soft kisses. He also noticed how soft your skin was when he "accidentally" touched your hand as you were reaching for the bottle, wanting to pour another drink.

It was about 3 in the morning when you turned around towards the bartender who was next to you, telling you and your new friends that the bar is closing in about five minutes. Your friends left long time ago, too drunk to even notice that you were gone or that you were now sitting elsewhere.

"Oh come on Gorge! Cant you see how much fun we are having here? Can’t you just lock us in or join us?", you blinked innocently at the bartender and it made man blush, ofcourse that didn't go unnoticed by Mactavish who cleared his throat subtly and put his hand around your shoulder. You turned your head, raising eyebrow at him and questioning what the hell he was doing.

"Come on lass, man has a job to do, a boss to answer to. We will get you to your hotel eh?", you chuckled at him, now relaxing into his touch, and he loved it. He softly rubbed exposed skin on your shoulder with his thumb and you inhaled sharply, smiling at him reaching for your purse and pulling out keys from your car,

"I drank a lot.. Who is driving lads?",

You closed the door of your Porsche and could hear Simon in the back seat whistle,

"It even has leather inside and tv in the back of the seat. Of course it does.. For gods sake (y/n), you could've just told us that you are rich. We would've distanced from you.", Riley made a joke and you laughed, turning around in your seat looking at Simon, as John started the car, slowly advancing towards the main street.

"I wouldn't trade time I had with you boys for nothing in this world. I haven't laughed like that in ages..",

Riley now looked at Mactavish on review mirror smirking,

"Soap, drop me off first and then take (y/n) back to her place. Base is just around the corner it will save her some gas.".

You eyed man who was driving now, waiting for his response, he groaned in response then he nodded slowly looking at you, before returning eyes to the road that was empty. The city was in deep sleep.

John parked infront of some old looking house and Simon chuckled, "Well this is my stop. I'll see ya in the morning mate, don't forget to freshen up, we will need you frosty eh?",

Simon said before he slammed the doors shut and swiftly disappeared into the house.

You looked at John and pouted a bit, he looked and you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully,

"Where to miss?", he put up his best British accent and you couldn't help but laugh at how silly he sounded.

"With you? To the stars.." you leaned on his shoulder and kicked down your heels, tucking your legs under your tights.

Mactavish took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of your perfume, before he started driving again, he reached for the radio and turned it on.

A soft tune of "Midnight" song was on it and you hummed in approval.

"You know, I feel like I should've met you long ago instead of wasting my time around, not knowing where am I going, what am I doing. I wish this night could last forever John, I wish I could be stuck in it forever.."

The man smiled and reached for one of your hands, locking his fingers with your smaller ones, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I want to show you one place, if you are not up for sleep yet lassie?"

You parted your head with his shoulder to look up at him, his face being illuminated by dim street lights, he looked so soft and like he didn't have any worry in the world.

"Aye sir, I am in your hands for the rest of this trip." you joked and he let out a huffed laugh, bringing your hand closer to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you watched him carefully, biting your lower lip as you felt the warmth spread throughout your entire body from just that tiny exchange of affection.

John parked the car, pulled the break and turned the machine off. He leaned back in the leather seat and looked at you, smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Take my jacket, it can be windy up here."

He said and reached in the back seat for his jacket, handing it to you. You took it into your hands and looked around you, it was quiet and dark all around. Not single lamp post or anything was in the vicinity, only the headlights that John left on, and the soft tune of radio that still played.

"There is nothing here, and honestly it feels like a horror movie. Am I about to be murdured  and thrown from this cliff John?"

Mactavish just chuckled and opened the car doors on his side,

"Do you trust me lass?", he asked as he leaned on the car roof, peeking inside and looking at you.

"Do I trust man I just met in local bar to exit my car, my only way of escaping, and obey him to walk into my own funeral? Sure yeah, here I come.." you said with playful tone as you stepped out of your car, flinging his black jacket over your shoulders and sliding your arms into it. It smelled like him and you buried your nose into the collar of jacket, closing your eyes and getting lost in the man's perfume mixed with aftershave. You were about to close the doors of the car when John cut you off,

"Don't close the doors, we won't be able to hear the music".

He was now behind you, towering over your smaller frame and your heart skipped the beat as you turned around to face him.

He slowly reached for your hips and without any hesitation or struggle, swayed you off your bare feet and lifted you up. You instinctively warped your arms around his neck smiling at him.

"You need to stop watching that many horror movies, they will rot your pretty brain"

He smiled at you with his eyes, looking down at your parted lips. Your face being right infront of his, possibly few inches away since he could feel your breath on his skin, and you could feel his. Blush creeped around your cheeks and he put you down on the hood of the car that was still warm from the engine. Your hands left his neck, but he still remained between your legs, not letting your hips just yet. You could've swore that his eyes were shining that night, you knew it was not possible, that your brain was seeing tings the way it wanted to, but you still chose to believe that impossible was possible in that moment.

His shadow that was casted due to headlights now moved, and with deep inhale his grip left your hips and you bit your lip. You felt disappointed and empty, you wanted him to lean in closer, you wanted to taste him and to seal the deal, but he moved away, hopping on the hood with ease, next to you, and leaning down on the windshield, one hand behind his head and other stretched out across the hood. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and slowly nodded towards his hand.

You pouted but soon enough curled against him, resting your head on his arm and softly gliding your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm.

In response he softly put his fingers in your hair, massaging your head in circular moves.

"Look up lass, the sky is beautiful tonight. No clouds, just stars blinking and shining somewhere out there, far, far away. Haven't seen this in a while."

You listened to his words and followed his gaze up towards the sky. He was right, it was indeed beautiful. Dark blue mixed with dozen blinking lights looking back at you and him. Moon was nowhere to be found however. And then it struck you, the whole moment was inscribed into your memory- his soft breathing, the glitter in his eyes, the soft music that was playing from inside the car, the murmur of water somewhere in the distance, the ruffle of the leaves and grass that were moved by soft breeze and your eyes watered a bit, you really wanted to live in this moment forever, to lie on his arm forever and to gaze at the same stars forever.

John noticed the hard breathing next to him and faced you with soft smile "Dont cry lass, I more like you smiling, it suits you better. Can't say the same for those shoes.. Those didn't work for you that well eh?" you chucked through the tears and felt his thumb on your cheek as he wiped one stray tear.

"I just want to be here forever.. Like this. With you next to me. If I had one chance to freeze the time it would be right now, right here with you so I could look at your eyes filled with thousand stars forever, counting them slowly one by one, never getting bored of you." the girl said softly pulling herself closer to him. John smiled and kissed her hair softly.

"Funny how you are telling me the words I should be telling you bonnie. Maybe this is just a dream eh? Maybe we will wake up from it feeling empty..I know that I will miss you when I am gone.. Now, tell me who broke your heart?"

John said with whisper, still gazing up at the stars, slowly closing his eyes.

"Life did. But its nothing you can't fix.." you said quietly, blushing and looking up at him. He opened the eyes and looked back at you, his eyes trailing every line of your face, trying to remember all the features of it as he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead.

"Dance with me?" He asked and you smiled up at him.

"I dont have any shoes on." you replied as with one swift move he pulled you off the car .

"That is nothing I can't fix." he smirked a bit and lifted you up from the car, telling you to stand on his shoes.

"John no, I am heavy." you chuckled as his hands held you close to him, his hands under his jacket, one placed on small of your back and one firmly held your hip, your feet now on his shoes, and he started moving slowly in tune of "Gloria" by Midnight that was on radio station at the moment.

"Bollocks, you are light as a feather, I can't even feel you. Do you even eat something or you just drink every day?" He joked and you laughed, throwing your hands over his head, locking them behind his neck.

"Captain Mactavish, stop teasing me and kiss me. I demand that action." you ran your hand over back of his head, feeling the tingles on your palm from his fresh shaven hair cut.

He looked down at you, lingering his eyes on your lips that were smirking a bit, slowly closing distance between the two, teasingly.

He pressed his cold lips on yours and you closed your eyes, wanting to remember every single moment and every move he made.

He slowly moved his hand up and down your back, inviting you to deepen the kiss which you accepted. He kissed you slowly, with passion with every move. He was spilling all of his emotions right then and there, he held you like was afraid that you will disappear from his arms, like he wouldn't be able to touch you or feel you. Your heart feel heavy, and you swore he could hear it since it was crashing against your ribcage. 

John slowly parted with your lips, looking into your eyes, his forehead resting on yours,

"After I am done with next mission, I will steal you and take you away so we can count all of the starts together, alright?" He asked and you nodded in approval slowly.

"Promise you wont forget?" You blinked up at him and he softly leaned in and kissed your lips again, kiss that was assuring and warm.

"I will be back in two days, wait for me here and be ready for a trip.", he softly brushed his nose on yours and you smiled wide at him, the universe was on your side, fate was on your side. It gifted him to you, to keep him and to cherish him, that whole night was like a fever dream, it almost didn't feel real- but it was. He was there and you were with him, swaying to the music slowly, kissing and feeling each other praying that sun wont come up just yet..

In two days you were at the same spot, your truck filled with all your stuff you needed.

You paced around the car excited, wanting to have his arms around you again, wanting to kiss him again... But he never showed up.

You never saw him again. You visited the bar often, you went to the house where you left his friend that night but the house was not there, it was demolished not long ago.

John disappeared without the trace, just the way he came into your life, unnoticed.

You never heard from him again. It was like that whole night was just a distant dream you had, and you would believe it if it wasn't for his jacket that was in your closet, his smell still lingering on it.

Years have passed, you never quite moved on, settling for a man who was nothing like John, but he cared for you, he really did.

Treating you right, bringing you flowers for every 14th of February, never forgetting anniversary or your birthday.

He didn't have stars in his eyes, he never took you to that place, never made you fall in love with him in bare hours, but he was enough. You had a nice house in nice neighbourhood and you lived a nice life with him.

You were at kitchen, preparing a lunch for your husband and you, when you heard a bell ring of your doors. You swiftly cleaned your hands and rushed to open the door.

"Yes?" You said as handle turned and the door opened.

Man who you never met before stood before you. He had small blue eyes, his beard was a bit weird but it suited him nice. He had a brown hair, and looked like life never treated him with ease.

"Can I help you sir?" You questioned the stranger and he nodded affirmative

"You are a hard one to find (y/n). Took me long enough.. Name's John Price, I have something for you.", he said and pulled white small envelope from his pocket handing it to you

"What is this sir? How do you know my name?" He smiled sadly at you and turned around being ready to leave when he stopped in his tracks, not facing you still.

"I am sorry. Wish I did more." .

He said and you were more confused than ever, you watched as man left your property and you closed the door, looking at the envelope that was in your hand. It was a bit heavy, but only on one side of it.

You rushed to the living room, where you sat down and opened it.

Dog tags fell out from them, they were cleaned recently, but the rust on them was noticeable still.

"John Mactavish"

ARMY

Some numbers and rest were scribbled from them.

Your heart dropped and your lips parted, eyes already filled with tears that slowly left your eye, falling down your cheek.

In the envelope was also a paper, it had blood stains on it. You tried wiping your eyes and reading it.

"I want to invite you for a walk,

To a quiet place; In the moor.

When the breeze sings midnight,

One if those nights- the moon is full.

A restless pounding invades in my heart,

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If they could only speak ,

What would they say?

If you could hear them talk.

For they know of my fondness for you,

And that in my thoughts

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you,

They would ask you,

To love me back."

You hugged the peace of paper like it was John himself and let your tears fall freely whispering to yourself and to the paper like he could hear you, like he was the one in your arms instead of this bloody peace of paper.

“I do love you John.. I never stopped.”.

A soothing closure fell over you. Now he was the star somewhere up in the sky, looking over at you every night you faced the sky, waiting for you to join him one day.

[spitpr1ncess]

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.

[goblinkingdomsblog]

Hello I hope you are doing well !! I was wondering if it okay to request the mafia universe where they meet the agent y/n have a moment but then the agent smile and go away in like we will meet again kinda way I’m sorry if it’s too much you don’t have to do it I appreciate your writing and love it thank you for your hard work 💕

They get hurt while running away from the police, but agent y/n helps them - part 1

Members: hyung line.

Genre: mafia!AU, reaction.

Premise: during a police chase, one of the mobsters ends up getting injured. Suddenly, you appear when he least expected it, willing to help him. You say you will see each other again in the future. With complete certainty: after all, you will guarantee it yourself.

TW: (V) = Violence.

Mafia Series Masterlist

Mafia Series Plot

Hii!! I hope you enjoy this post, and that it meets well your request!

I'm really happy to know that you like the things that I write! Thank youu!!! 💜❤😁

+ Sorry for the delay, I wanted to make a long version of this reaction. The part 2 is already posted!

"We'll see each other again, don't worry."

Namjoon:

The damn right leg. It was always that damn leg.

Namjoon gasped, lowering himself against the wall of the dark alley. The smell there was not at all pleasant, and the humidity certainly wouldn't leave his expensive suit unpunished, but he was too busy to care about that at the moment.

Everything happened in a flash: one hour, he was sitting comfortably on a soft leather sofa, talking to the leaders of the other two most important gangs in Seoul (maintaining good relations between partner companies was essential); on the other, he was running down the wet sidewalk, after escaping from the building through a side door. The damned police had somehow discovered the secret meeting, probably through a traitor, and had invaded the place, trying to kill three birds with one stone.

Even his security guards had stayed behind, exchanging shots with the police to give him enough time to escape. He hated having to escape, looking like a coward, but he knew it was necessary.

Another thing he hated: he couldn't run fast without dropping at least one of his weapons, or himself. It was in a fall on the wet street that he had injured his leg, the same one that had broken twice before, and that now was hurting again thanks to his shitty motor coordination. He knew he was being chased, so he got up and forced himself to run for several more blocks, until the pain became too unbearable to walk. It was at that moment that he hid in the alley, where he was until now.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the wet darkness. Without a gun, he could do nothing but watch, hoping his bad luck wasn’t that glaring that day.

When you turned into the alley with your weapon in your fists, using its wall for protection, you saw him immediately.

The mafia boss, sitting on the floor, with an empty expression.

Frowning, you checked if that was a trap and if there was someone around, but he seemed completely alone. Raising your voice, you announced your presence, and the first thing he saw was your well-equipped uniform.

- Hands up. Put them behind your head. - you said, with controlled calm.

Namjoon sighed, obeying slowly.

- I'm unarmed. You don't need to be alarmed.

- Get up and come over here. - you ordered, ignoring his words.

The mobster started to get up, but then he slid back down the wall. He tried a couple more times, until he gave up and lay motionless on the floor.

- Hurry up.

- I am unable. I think I broke my leg again. - he murmured, almost as if admitting it was a shame.

Suspicious, you didn't move forward initially. You checked the alley again, but no one was in sight. So, you decided to use a different strategy: you approached with the gun pointed at his head, after all, none of the henchmen would dare threaten the life of their leader (or at least that was what you hoped to be true).

- If you try anything "funny", I swear I'll kill you, okay? - you hissed, bending down in front of him.

The man's legs were stretched out in front of him, and the right was in an ugly position, proving that he was telling the truth. The bone must have torn the flesh, because a bloody wheel was beginning to form in his pants. It would be disgusting to anyone who was not used to brutality.

- How did you get hurt like that?

- Let's say that this specific bone is not the strongest. It is already the third incident that occurs with the poor thing. - he tried to laugh, perhaps to feel better about himself, but the pain prevented him.

You then took a deep breath. You couldn't leave the man bleeding there, even if he wasn't the best of people. It went against your values.

By slowly lowering the weapon (but keeping it within immediate reach), you began to roll up your uniform sleeves. The basic first aid classes you took when you joined the police would have to do.

- What will you do? - he asked, lost in hesitation and fear, as he noticed your approach.

- I will help you not to bleed a river. But it will really hurt, and it will be a really temporary solution. - you answered, seriously.

Without saying anything more, the man just fell silent, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face.

You put your hands firmly on his leg and, using the techniques you had learned, started to push. The pain was absurd, but he preferred to bite his lip until it bled rather than scream. Of course, being a fugitive from the police should be part of the motivation for not making too much noise.

The cracking of bones when they went back to place was hollow and dark, but at least the meat stopped being kept open. Taking a serious look at him, you noticed that the man was pale with pain, looking like he was about to pass out.

- Breathe in. The worst is over. - you replied, rummaging through your belt until you found the bandages you always carried along, in case of personal emergencies.

Carefully but firmly, you started to bandage his leg, just to stop the bleeding and keep the leg in place for as long as possible.

- Don't move too much, or you could make your situation even worse.

The man remained silent for a few minutes, just watching your serious expression and your nimble hands as you bandaged his leg. He wasn't sure about how to react, after all, that kind of situation was not quite what a mobster would expect from a police agent.

- Uh... why are you helping me?

You lifted your head, facing him directly.

- One of the most important parts of doing justice involves not letting anyone bleed to death. And even if your wound is not that deadly, I believe that waiting for a long time in a wet alley is not the most ideal healing scenario. - letting go and wiping your hands on the leftover gauze, you took your gun out of your belt and stood up - I'll give you the advantage of not immediately telling them where you are. But hope your henchmen find you fast.

He watched you walk away, going back cautiously to the exit of the alley.

- But... I... - unable to formulate a coherent sentence and not wanting to look like an idiot, Namjoon just gave up asking questions - I suppose that's what it means to be on the good side. Thank you anyway.

Surprisingly, you turned around one last time. The smile that shone on your face exposing all your teeth and lifting the corners of your mouth, giving you an air of extreme cleverness, took away the little breath that was left to Namjoon.

- Oh, but you don't need thank me now, because we will meet again. And next time, I'm not going to be that good. - clicking your tongue, you took a step towards the darkness - You better be well prepared.

So, you're gone, leaving him alone in the alley until the moment he would be found by the other gang members (which took a little longer than it should have).

Seokjin:

Shit!

That whole day was being terrible. First, Jin had started by clashing with members of a rival gang. Then the police arrived, shooting anyone they saw ahead. It was in the middle of so many fights that he ended up being shot in the palm of his hand, and his dominant hand!

Pressing his hand against his now-stained shirt chest, he continued walking through the seemingly empty industrial quarter, unsure of how to hold his revolver straight.

Everything should have been a simple negotiation, but things got off track too quickly.

His palm had already bled so badly that the entire front of his shirt was red. In addition, he could no longer move his fingers, which was a really bad signal. Containing a sob, he let a few tears roll down his face.

He was concerned with his own hand, but his biggest concern was if it would lose its usefulness forever. How would he be a hacker after that, without being able to type?

It was at that moment that you found him wandering alone and desperate. You had been looking for the fugitives in the more distant streets, to make sure they didn't get far. However, when you found the boy crying, a part of the adrenaline that dominated your mind dissipated. He barely held a gun, after all.

With patience, you announced your presence. When he saw you, he threw his head back in mourning, as if he were indignant at the heavens.

- I can't handle it right now! - he whimpered.

Rolling your eyes, you approached, your gun in hand.

- Don't worry, I won't shoot if you don't do anything stupid.

Eyes widening, he pulled his hand away from the body, in a strangled cry.

- How would I do it if there's a hole in my hand?!

Even a few feet away, the fact that it was possible to see through his hand was disturbing. The bullet had gone in and out, leaving a hole with color of blood, bones and nerves showing. Yes, the boy's despair was justified. You just kept calm because you've seen a lot of complicated situations like that before.

- You have to stop the bleeding!

- How am I going to do this with one hand?! - the silent tears continued to run down his face.

Sighing, you finally approached, scaring him by holding his hand.

- What is this?!

- A basic aid, considering that the nearest hospital is two kilometers from here. - you replied simply, taking improvised bandages from inside the jacket of your uniform.

There was not much to do about that hand other than to stop the bleeding. Avoiding looking at his blood-soaked shirt (which was not a pleasant sight at all), you began to wrap the wound with the fabric, covering the hole and tightening the bandage tightly.

He let out a sob of pain, but he didn't back down, knowing he needed to put up with it.

- Take good care of this wound.

He wiped his wet face with his healthy hand, sniffling.

- I don't even know if I'll have a hand after this! - the reaction would be comical if it weren't tragic. The panic in his voice was real.

So, you closed your expression, getting completely serious.

- You will take care of your hand and you will stop being pessimistic. It'll be there the next time we meet. - so, you gave a smile of certainty, small but absolute.

Then, moving away, you raised your weapon again, passing by him.

It took a few seconds for Seokjin to understand what you had said. The pain left him with slow thinking.

- Hey, next time?! - he exclaimed, turning in your direction.

Unfortunately, you were too far away to be stopped. He watched you leave for a much longer time than the expected.

Yoongi:

He was no longer able to walk, so he didn't force himself anymore. It didn't matter that he was inside the same building that the police were still in: he just couldn't get away anymore.

Limping painfully for a few more steps, he sat down in the narrow hall, resting his back against one of the walls. He and his two customers had been caught during the delivery of a shipment of heroin, and one of the damned customers had stabbed him to have time to escape. Literally.

With a small knife stuck in his thigh, Yoongi was actually slower than the others, easier to be captured. He was just lucky to be in the company of his most trusted friends, who came into conflict with the police just so he could run. He was worried about them now, of course, and he couldn't even repay their sacrifice and really escape. The pain was so much, and the blood on his clothes was so much, that his veins seemed to be filled with acid, which caused a burning sensation in his entire body.

Closing his mouth to try to hold his breath and feeling the sweat on his forehead, he leaned his head against the wall, looking at the ceiling for a few moments. The knife was still stuck in his leg and needed to be pulled out. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to three. Then, lifting his trembling hands, he put them on the handle of the knife. That gesture alone was enough to make more cold sweat run down the back of his neck.

Then, as he prepared to pull the knife out, you appeared at the end of the hall. Wide-eyed, you observed the injured man and what he intended to do.

- Wait! Don't pull it! - you exclaimed, startling him.

I mean, Yoongi got scared, but the only thing he did was to turn his head slowly towards you, without really expressing fear.

You turned the other way, knowing that your colleagues were close. Specifically, a colleague who hated mobsters, and who would certainly have no mercy when shooting a man who was already injured. There was even a trail of drops of blood on the carpet, which went as far as the dealer was left.

- Why not? Sometime it will have to go. - he said, in a weak voice, with the tone of someone who no longer cared.

You slowly lowered your weapon when you realized that he was not carrying any gun. Then you looked at him again, snorting when you realized that you would need to act quickly.

Too many people had been hurt that day. You needed to fix the situation. Then, running up to him, you bent down in front of the man.

- You were stabbed in your thigh, that is full of important blood vessels. In addition, you are already bleeding too much. - you said, scolding him with some anger - If you pull the knife, it can make the situation worse and cause a much worse bleeding. Even though it hurts, the knife seems to be stopping the wound.

Too impressed by how straightforward you were, he just remained silent, nodding his head to signal that he would obey. In the distance, you heard your angered colleague's voice. Then you faced the mobster again, running your hands over his shoulders.

- I'm going to get you out of here and put you in a place where you're not in the immediate sight of a gun. But I can't do anything else. You will need hospital care.

Yoongi opened his eyes wide when you started to help him up, shocked by the situation as a whole.

- Why are you doing this? - he asked, his voice low and strangled with pain.

With effort, you managed to get him upright, but you were practically carrying his full weight.

- Because I think people should go through a fair trial, and not just get shot in the head like will happen if I leave you here. - striving to walk, you started down the corridor, towards the basement of the building - And make sure that your leg does not leave a trail of blood behind us, even if you have to tighten the fabric of your pants around the wound.

Again, he obeyed without protest, containing a cry of pain as he prevented the blood from dripping on the floor. He was shaking and sweaty, and the pain he was enduring must have been scary. Still, that was better than leaving him to die.

You followed as quickly as possible to the staircase, and each step was a sacrifice for Yoongi. The black mask you were wearing, part of the uniform, prevented him from seeing your face, but your eyebrows were frown at the smell of blood and the man in agony.

When you reached the basement, you hid the man behind a tall and heavy closet. The place was small, dusty and probably untouched for months. Still, you left him on the floor, sitting.

Stretching your aching back, you searched for the bad and cheap phone you used when you went to work, for emergencies. You turned it on and handed it over to the injured man, just before standing.

- Use this to call someone who can help you. It's the most I can do for you. - you said, as soon as he held the little electronic device.

Pale but with lively eyes, Yoongi took another deep breath to be able to speak through the pain.

- Thanks. - he said simply, closing his eyes when a flash of pain passed through his body. Then, he opened his eyes again - Isn't this phone tapped? It would be pretty easy to track me, then.

With a mysterious expression, you walked away. Even though you were wearing a mask, he could see the corners of your mouth going up to form a mysterious smile.

- You will have to find it out until the next time we meet. - you replied, taking your weapon from the belt just before leaving by the same staircase you had traveled before - Do not expect me to help you again.

Hoseok:

Hoseok was crying, something he hated to do. However, getting shot in the chest was not something that happened every day, and it was okay to cry in a situation like that.

With his hands pressed to the bleeding wound, he staggered down a deserted road in the hot dry night. The road was flanked by plantations, since it was located in the countryside, and the only noises there were that of the plants moving with the wind and that of the nocturnal animals.

He was afraid of those animals, after all, he smelled of blood. Still, nothing too dangerous should be there, as farmers would exterminate any creature. Even the "creature" himself, probably, if he appeared bleeding and wanted by the police in one of the houses far from the road.

He stumbled forward, needing to lean on one of the wooden fences. The pain in his chest was so strong that he had no idea where he was running to.

Suddenly, he felt the cold muzzle of a gun at the back of his head. As he bent over the fence, he stopped paying attention to the environment, and didn't notice when you approached silently.

- Hands up! - you hissed between teeth.

With a high-pitched cry, he remained in place.

- I'm using my hands to stop the bleeding from the shot your colleague gave me in the chest! - he exclaimed, his voice exuding real pain.

Swallowing hard, you wondered if it was true, and ordered him to turn around. When he did it, weak, the front of the shirt soaked in blood was proof enough.

The man's luck was that the shot had hit the right side of his chest and not the heart. The bullet was still lodged in his chest, but the bleeding was not aggressive enough to had hit an artery. That man was very, very lucky.

- Give me your gun. - you said, forcing the man to hand over his revolver. As soon as you made sure he was unarmed, you lowered your own weapon - Let me see.

By taking the man's hands away and looking more closely at the wound hole, you were sure that no very important veins had been hit. Then you started to take off the man's coat.

- Hey, what are you doing?! Isn't it enough that you invaded our place and killed 4 people?! - he exclaimed, irritated and scared.

Hearing those words was not pleasant, but they were true. So you didn't answer, just folding the jacket efficiently and wrapping it diagonally around his body, tying it tightly on his back.

- I'm helping you, you bastard.

Arching his eyebrows, he realized you were telling the truth.

- Why? - he asked, confused.

- Because nobody else is going to die today. I'll make sure of that. - you answered seriously - Now tighten the wound again. Prevent too much blood from being lost.

The man was already pale, but when he heard of blood, he became even more so. He swallowed hard, his face still wet with tears.

- Are you sure that I will not die?

You started to smile wryly, wanting to laugh at his crybaby face. However, as you watched his expression, you realized that his panic was real. You then changed your expression, smiling without showing your teeth but confidently.

- I am sure. We will meet in the future, because I will keep you alive. - you said, walking away - Now, run to the house after this plantation behind you and ask for help. I have to go back to the mission.

He wanted to say something else, but you were already walking away. The courage you gave him through your steady smile was enough.

He had the strength to run to the nearest house and ask for help.

Maknae line here.

The images used on this post are not mine, credits to the owners!

Kisses from the Goblin Kingdom! :)