#never used ear protection for the noise. maybe it would help lmao??? sound off in reblogs guys. who else is hearing the noise

[leatherface-headspace]

lassie can hear the high pitched frequency that lights and electronics make

[mellowyandere]

One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 1

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead) 

Summary: Shouta loves a good game of cat and mouse, unfortunately for you the game’s a little rigged. This is somewhat of an experiment to try and write a smut scene from the male POV. Disclaimer I am not a man so uh yeah lmao. 

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect. 

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink

Aizawa Shouta was a rational man. He did his best to adhere to logic, and to never waste time with unnecessary action. And yet despite this, he absolutely loved watching you try to escape. You were pretty clever, even without him “accidentally” forgetting to lock the second story window that just so happened to be above some forgivingly soft shrubbery. 

You probably would have figured some way out on your own, but something feral inside him didn’t want to wait around for you to act. Normally it was his ever-loud husband Hizashi that fell flat when it came to the notion of patience, but today he would relent to his own selfish desires. 

Toshinori would have been utterly distressed had he been aware of the sleepy pros scheme. The number one was a man of swift action, seemingly never thinking twice before charging fist first into danger. He would not be happy Shouta was playing with you like this, but Toshinori and Hizashi wouldn’t be made aware of his little game with you. After all they had no idea he set this up, so they might genuinely try to punish you. He’d keep it quiet once he caught you and pretend it’s your little secret. Maybe you’d even be a little grateful if you believed he was saving your skin.

He rationalized his behavior by telling himself you seemed so bored, truly this was the perfect way to stimulate your mind and body. So when he heard the telltale sound of a body landing in bushes on the back side of the house he simply started a timer for 20 minutes to give you a bit of a head start. 

Was it cruel to get your hopes up like this? Perhaps, but he’d make sure to fuck you senseless to alleviate the disappointment. After all, if you were a good girl you’d have settled into your life with them already. But you really did enjoy testing them, which brought out the side of him that wanted to put you in your place. 

Giving himself a once over he made sure he had everything he would need for your inevitable return home. Well, now that you were basically quirkiness, all he needed was his capture weapon just in case you put up a struggle. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to fuck you when he caught you, or if he was going to haul your cute ass home first. 

Thinking about plowing into you with adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the hunt had some blood rushing below his belt. Well he could always just do both.

The shrill ringing of his phones alarm brought him back from his wandering thoughts. With a sadistic grin stretching wide across his face he headed for the front door.

-----

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks trapped inside that house with three insane men. Sure they might not beat you or starve you, but the constant belittling, undermining and infantilizing was about to drive you to insanity yourself. You almost jumped for joy when you noticed an unlocked window on the second floor in Hizashi’s and Shouta’s room. The blond man had a bad habit of using too much cologne, and his dark-haired counterpart was always having to air out the room when the radio star went overboard. 

Eraserhead was normally very diligent about ensuring the window was sealed tight, but last night Toshinori had come home in a flurry of smoke and blood, sending his blond junior into hysterics. It was nothing serious, unfortunately, but Shouta had been the one to calm Hizashi and tend to the number ones injuries. Amidst all the ruckus he had left the window unlocked. 

You knew Shouta would soon realize his mistake and lock the window down tight, leaving you with a small time frame to enact your grand escape. It wasn't ideal, but the best you had been able to do was wait for both blonds to leave, trapping you in the house with Shouta. Normally he let you be during the day, opting to nap and grade what appeared to be homework. Hopefully today would seem like just another day, and he wouldn’t think to check on you until dinner approached. 

You found yourself perched on the window sill, ready to take flight. All you had were the clothes on your back, not wanting to make any suspicious noises that would tip you off. On the count of three you braced yourself and pushed off from the ledge, landing on the bushes below with a thud. 

Fuck, that was a bit louder than you had anticipated. Ignoring your growing anxiety, you made quick work of escaping the clutches of the now flattened bush and took off into the woods on the back half of the house. 

Your heart was hammering like mad in your chest as you sprinted as fast as you could. It was hardly fair that it was your first time outside in three weeks and you couldn’t even slow down to take it all in. Thankfully it was spring, meaning you wouldn’t have to worry about the cold. All you needed to do was find someone to get this stupid quirk canceling collar off and then you could safely recede into the background, making sure the three pros never found you again. 

Easier said than done when one of those pros was All Might, and the other two were just as formidable, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. You did your best to not leave a trail behind, but knew once Shouta figured out you were gone he’d have no trouble tracing your tracks. It was the unfortunately shitty reality you were dealing with. 

Were you really going to be able to escape? Even now as you ran as fast as you could it felt like a fruitless endeavor. There were too many variables that had to line up perfectly in order for you to pull this off, and as you ran directionless through the woods no viable solutions were coming to you. Hell, even now your lungs were burning from exertion, legs begging you to stop. 

But if there was one thing that you were it was stubborn. Stubborn to a fault sometimes, and so you pushed onwards. After what felt like an eternity of non-stop running you slowed to a walk. The forest seemed never ending, taunting you with its sprawling army of trees and shrubbery. You decided to be more mindful of the tracks you were leaving, veering off course in a way that would hopefully go undetected. 

Now no longer running you simply kept your steps quiet and ears alert in case Shouta had already discovered your absence. He was good at his work, but even he had limitations. 

-----

Shouta had to give credit where credit was due, you were better at this than he thought you’d be. If you were his student he’d be proud, but you were his prey so he was a bit annoyed. At first your tracks had been sloppy, easy to follow and incredibly straight forward. At some point though you had changed your approach, footsteps almost vanishing as you adopted a new tactic. 

He found himself crouching low, inspecting leaves to see which you had accidentally broken. There were no more snapped limbs as you carefully maneuvered through the woods. If he wasn’t a pro at hunting people down you probably would have been able to evade him, but this was his livelihood. 

Ever so carefully he followed your almost invisible trail. He had you beat in endurance so you’d have to settle somewhere eventually, and without food and water you were at a distinct disadvantage. Everything was lining up in his favor as he intended, even if you were making this a little harder than expected. 

The anticipation of catching a glimpse of you, of watching you realize he was there and taking off, made his heart beat faster. The longer you evaded him, the more time he had to come up with a fun punishment for you. 

-----

The sun had been directly overhead at the beginning of your escape, and was now kissing the horizon. Oranges and reds were thrown about the woods as the creatures of the night began to wake from their slumber. You listened to see if you could hear the chirping of frogs to find a water source but no luck. 

There was no doubt in your mind that Shouta was 110% aware of your absence by now and was probably hot on your trail. You were zigzagging a bit, trying your best to not disturb the forest floor while making it harder to track you. Dammit this was the fucking worst, it had to have been at least 6 hours in these woods, and without any food or water you were famished. 

And yet despite wandering about for 6 fucking hours you had yet to see anything besides the woods. Maybe you should just give up, sit down and accept defeat and whatever punishment you had awaiting you. You couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the fear of what that would entail. 

As dusk quickly turned dark you debated on whether or not you were going to rest for the night. Visibility would be lower, giving you a slight edge, but Eraserhead was a night owl meaning you were entering his domain of peak performance. There was also no guessing if he was the only one looking for you. All Might could move faster than you could even comprehend and Present Mic was fine-tuned when it came to noise location. 

Sighing in annoyance as your wayward thoughts shot holes through your confidence you decided to find somewhere to try and lay down for a bit. If all three were out hunting you down they could take turns and overlap the time so you never got to rest. As busy as they should be with hero work they always seemed to find too much time to hover around you. 

Spotting some dense shrubbery, you crossed your fingers that any creepy crawlies would keep to themselves and carefully began to conceal yourself. Perhaps one of them would pass by and you could gain some intel. If you were lucky they’d write this area off after not finding you and search elsewhere. 

Settling as comfortably as one could in a bush you closed your eyes and did your best to focus on the sounds around you. The melodic chirping of crickets was the most overwhelming of all the sounds. Skittering of small forest animals echoing around as well. Your mind began to desensitize to those sounds, the lack of adrenaline that pushed you along at the start of all this causing it to dip into unconsciousness. 

That was until you heard the distinct snap of a branch. Eyes flying open you were on high alert as you kept still. You tried to hear if there would be any follow up sounds, knowing something of a decent size had to have broken the branch. If it had been a deer they would have simply kept moving, which made you all the more anxious. 

“No more tracks kitten, I know you’re here somewhere. This little game dragged on a lot longer than I had anticipated so it seems there won’t be any way to hide this from Zashi and Toshinori.” 

You wanted to scream. Even though you had tried your best it simply wasn’t enough against Eraserhead. 

“If you come out kitten I’ll give you one last shot to run. Those bushes over there look like a mighty fine hiding spot for someone of your size.” His voice was pointed directly towards you.

FUCK. You couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not at this point but he knew you were here, might as well come out with some dignity before he dragged you out kicking and screaming. 

The bush rustled loudly as you forced your way out. You were tired, famished and most of all so frustrated you wanted to cry. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he had a condescending smirk plastered to his face. 

“There’s my pretty kitty, did you have fun outside?”

Shouta knew just what to say to strike a nerve, but you held your tongue. “One last shot to run. You said so yourself. Ditch the capture weapon and catch me like a man, I mean unless you don’t think you can. I’m already quirkiness which is your gimmick on a regular day, so really you're just beating on someone while they're already down.” You looked up now, glaring at him as his smile grew in amusement. 

“I’m going to have to be a lot more physical without it you know, I’ll have no choice but you manhandle you.”

“I’d rather take my chances.” You knew even without his capture weapon you didn’t stand much of a chance of escape. Your only goal now was to try and see how much he was willing to handicap himself. 

“Gonna give me a head start or are you going to just run as soon as I do?”

At this Shouta had to keep himself from snarking back at you. He had already given you a head start, but if he told you this was all set up you’d probably lose the will to fight on. “Five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes to run as far as you can and then I’ll come after you,” he said while pulling out his phone. 

“What about Toshinori and Hizashi?” 

“At the house. I told them I’d handle this, Toshinori will be coming to get us though once I tell him game over. We’re pretty deep in the woods and I don’t feel like walking back for six hours.”

You nodded at his words. So it was just the two of you then. Your combat skills were nothing to write home about, but maybe if you fought dirty you could gain the upper hand. 

“Alright, tell me when.”

“Oh, I already started it. You have 4 minutes and 17 seconds.”

Fucking asshole. You took off sprinting, running as fast as you could, only opting to slow to a jog once you thought you were out of earshot. You wanted him to believe you’d be trying your damndest to put distance between the two of you. But you knew you’d never outrun him. Instead you were going to continue jogging for a bit, counting down the seconds in your head so you didn’t lose track your timer. 

Once your remaining time was up you were going to lay low and try to ambush him. He wouldn’t be paying as close attention to your trail since he knew he could easily catch up. 

After the remaining 4 minutes had passed you found a decent sized tree to hide behind and worked on slowing down your breathing. It felt like your heart was going to chisel its way straight through your bones, your limbs trembling with anxiety. It wasn’t often you were hunted back when you were an anti-hero. Not many people knew who you were which made it incredibly easy to be looked over. 

Scooping up handfuls of dirt you waited. You heard him before you saw him. He wasn’t bothering to take it slow, seemingly eager to get it over with. He ran right past you, noticing you a second too late as dirt and debris were chucked straight into his face. 

He yelled out in surprise, hands reaching out to grab you but you jumped out of reach. True to his word his capture weapon was nowhere in sight. Screaming in anger you lunged at him, nails attempting to claw his face but his own larger hands were working on wiping off your dirt assault, effectively blocking you.  

He stumbled back a bit, unprepared for your hostility, before steadying himself and turning the tables back on you. In one swift motion his fist collided with your gut, forcing the air from your lungs. Your arms came down to protect where he had hit as you wheezed pathetically. Seconds later his larger frame came crashing into you, easily knocking you to the ground. 

You cried out in pain, head hitting the ground a bit too hard as stars danced behind your eyes.

“Not very smart of you Y/N, I mean it beats trying to outrun me, but really? Dirt? It’s like you want me to punish you or something.”

“GET OFF ME!” 

Placing a hand on the back of your head he pushed you down while his other arm pulled the lower half of your body flush against him. You could feel his erection pressing up against your ass.

You were a snarling sobbing mess at this point. All your emotions crashing down at once as you thrashed below Shouta.

“Easy now easy, calm down kitten. You did really good, better than I thought you were going to. If you calm down I might be willing to reduce your punishment, but you have to stop throwing a fit first.”

Despite his words Shouta was enjoying almost every second of your thrashing. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was knowing how disappointed you were right now. Anyone would be after coming so far. Now was his chance to make it up to you before giving Toshinori the go ahead. 

As your struggles subsided the only movement from your body was from your gentle sobs. Shouta for his part was slowly grinding his hard cock against your ass as he softly shushed you. 

“I know you’re disappointed kitten but I’ll make you feel better. If you’re a good girl for me I’ll be willing to look past that little dirt tactic. You’re such a smart girl though, you really did catch me by surprise.”

Leaning down he began to whisper into your ear, removing the hand from your head and bringing it down to your clothed pussy. 

“You always were resourceful, it’s one of the things I fell in love with about you. If only you were a hero, but then again if you were I wouldn’t have had the fun of hunting you down.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words. All three of them enjoyed reminiscing about how they first saw you and all their subsequent actions that lead to your imprisonment. The effort they had put into bringing you “home”. It was beyond disturbing. 

“Please Shouta, not here. Can we, can we just go home first?”

“Maybe if I had found you 4 hours ago, but right now you’re treading on very thin ice. Be a good girl for me and I’ll make sure Hizashi and Toshinori don’t punish you too harshly when we get back.”

His large hand was pawing at your clothed sex, black hair draping over your own face as his body curled around you. He slowly rutted against you, excited huffs of air ghosting across the side of your face. You could practically feel his heart vibrating against your back he was so worked up. 

He gently rubbed his stubble against the side of your face, composure slipping a bit. While Shouta absolutely loved how feisty you could be, nothing compared to when you submitted to him. He craved the feeling of your tired body giving in to his ministrations, but he needed more. 

His hand quickly slipped between your pants and underwear, index finger eagerly aiming for your folds. He couldn’t care less that you were sweaty and dirty from the hunt. Right now all he could think about was the softness of your exposed flesh, and much to his delight, the slight wetness to your outer lips. 

“Seems like someone likes being caught more than they let on hmm kitten?”

He couldn't help but taunt you a bit, loving the way you sniffled and whimpered beneath him. You knew when to behave yourself, when to be good for him. Arousal was flooding his veins. The way it felt to rub himself against your perfect ass, even through layers of clothes, had his mind blanking out. 

Your core was warm, even without him dipping a finger inside. Gently he began to delve deeper, gathering up your arousal to spread around. Your pants were starting to bother him a bit, retracting his hands he made quick work of not only your bottoms, but his as well. You remained still for him, opting to sulk like a child as he prepared to ravish you. 

You were too cute like this, and with the lower half of your body on full display he couldn't help but groan in delight. Bringing a hand down he slapped your ass hard, mesmerized by the way your flesh gave way. You yelped in surprise, body rutting forward. His cock twitched as he palmed your sore flesh, cooing softly in apology. You glared back at him, pretty little face set in a pout.

As much as he wanted to slap your ass until you cried for him to stop he restrained himself. Although this was a punishment, he had set you up. He would go easy on you, not forgetting his promise to himself to help you forget the frustration you were feeling right now. 

Whenever you got angry you opted to stop talking, instead waiting for a moment of weakness to strike or quietly accept your fate. Judging by your defeated expression he could safely assume the latter 

Folding himself over you he brought his hand back down to your pussy, thumb working slow circles on your clit while he middle finger delved deeper. Your entrance was a bit tight, but with gentle persistence he worked his way inside. 

Your velvety inner walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t help but rut his aching cock against your bare ass as his mind drifted to the feeling of you clamping down on his arousal instead. Your whines of protest only further spurring on his overwhelming need to be inside you. 

Adding a second finger he began to pump into you with a bit more urgency. Your slick was quickly coating his hand as he hit all the spots he knew would work you up to your orgasm. Groaning in delight he brought his lips to your exposed neck, sucking and nipping at your soft flesh. 

He loved when he could tell you were getting close. Your warm walls would clamp down on him, breathy mewls and moans escaping your soft lips. You were rocking back into him, uncaring of the fact that you were grinding against him as you chased your release. In these moments you abandoned your resolve to fight against him, and he happily took advantage of that. After all, if your body knew what you wanted, surely your mind would catch up one day.

Your moans were more audible now, hands grasping at the forest floor. Your back was arched into him, desperate to use him. So close, you were so close he knew it, and right before you could finish he pulled his hand away. He laughed as you huffed in frustration. 

“Shouta pl-please.” Fuck, he loved it when you begged. It didn’t happen often with how stubborn you were but when it did he knew he had to comply. 

Instead of verbally responding he opted to do what he wanted to all night long. Lining up the tip of his cock to your entrance he groaned at the heat radiating off you. Pumping his hand along his length a couple times to lube himself up with your excess fluid he pushed the tip in. You stilled beneath him, and in one swift movement he fully sheathed himself. 

His mind went blank as you cried out in pleasure, wet walls convulsing around him as your orgasm tore through you. He held still, opting to gently pet you while cooing softly down at you. Before he met you, even with Hizashi, he had never been very vocal during sex. But now he couldn’t stop himself from babbling a bit, praising you for being such a good girl. 

As your body stilled in his arms he continued to plant kisses along your delicate neck. Your soft sniffles made his heart clench a bit, how was it possible for you to be so damn cute? 

“Alright kitten now it’s my turn. No pulling anything stupid, I won’t take long.”

This whole hunt had been one giant tease, working him up in a way he normally wouldn’t allow himself. Pulling out he groaned at the feeling of his cock sliding against you. Moving his hands he grabbed your waist, eyes transfixed on where you were joined. Your back was arched as you braced yourself on your elbows, presenting yourself to him. 

His mind clouded over, blood opting to drag his attention elsewhere. He began to push back in, desperate to feel you surrounding him. Setting a tempo he pulled about halfway out before slamming back in, loving the way your body moved as you bounced off him. 

His hands dug into your supple flesh, possibly leaving bruises. He could feel the oncoming of his own orgasm, the muscles in his lower abdomen pulsating. He was panting, heart racing in his rib cage as his eyes rolled back into his head. He didn’t have the patience to edge himself today, he needed this, needed you.

He loved hearing the way your breath was forced from your lungs when he fully sheathed himself inside you. He knew he was overstimulating you a bit, but the part of him that needed to find his own release didn’t pay that fact much mind. All he could think about was the way it felt to be one with you, lost inside your soft warmth.  

After only a couple more minutes of relentlessly pounding into you he couldn’t hold it back any longer. A wave like sensation rushed through his body as his hips stuttered. He folded over you, wrapping his arms around you as he felt his hot cum rush through his cock and fill your body. The emotions rushing through him as he released into you, the woman he loved, were indescribable.

It didn’t take long for his muscles to relax, euphoria swept away by the need to take a nap washing over him. You had long since stopped crying, remaining motionless beneath him. He wondered what was going through your mind as he held you flush against him.

“Sho-Shouta.” So meek, so quiet. His heart fluttered a bit. “Can we go home now... I want to take a shower.”

Chuckling softly he pulled himself out, groaning a bit at the feeling of overstimulation as your warm walls dragged against him. Leaning away he smiled as his cum leaked out your pussy. 

“Yes kitten we can go home. I’ll make sure to clean you up.”

You groaned in protest, hating when they insisted on washing you. He knew you liked your privacy but Hizashi and Toshinori were still going to want to punish you. He’d keep close by to keep them from being too harsh. 

Pulling up his pants he fished his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at the sheer quantity of missed calls from the two aforementioned. Poor little kitten, it didn’t look like you’d be getting off easy. 

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz NSFW Alphabet

Not my gif

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Hawk is pretty quiet after sex. He likes to lay there with you draped over his chest and a smirk on his face while you both catch your breath. If it was a particularly rough night he will get a wet cloth and clean you off before getting snacks and turning on some rock music or an action movie. He’s almost always the big spoon when cuddling.

B: Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)

His favorite body part of yours is your face. He thinks you look so innocent and pure like a literal ray of sunshine. A complimentary opposite to his look. He especially likes how sweet you look while doing certain *ahem* activities. His favorite body part of his are his abs. He worked hard for them and they give him confidence. He loves when you run your hands down them while y’all are making out.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Hawk likes to cum on your face or inside you. You guys are young and not at all ready for kids so you always wrap it up, which is why he usually cums on your face. He could honestly finish just thinking about how you look covered in him like that. When it’s a super passionate or romantic night he prefers to finish inside you with or without the condom. He just likes to look deep in your eyes.

D: Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He’s always wanted to try anal. His tattoo buddy Rico told him it was awesome, and he’s wanted to do it ever since. He’s nervous to ask you though because he would never want you to be in pain. When you eventually tell him you want to give it a go, he’s beyond excited but also super gentle.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Hawk is somewhat experienced, but his confidence makes up for anything he might not be sure about. He was with Moon for a few months and learned all the basics, but it’s with you that he really starts to experiment. He’s also a super quick learner.

F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

The boy loves to try new things. You guys are making your way through the Kama-sutra. He still thinks you can never go wrong with the classics though- missionary and cowgirl. As long as he can touch you he’s a happy guy.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they more humorous, etc.)

He almost always is wearing a smirk when y’all are going at it. He’s more serious than goofy at first just because he feels like he has something to prove but once you guys get comfortable and he knows he can be himself around you, he lets loose a little and will crack a joke or two during.

H: Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

God I wish I could say the carpet matched the drapes lmaooo imagine a little mini mohawk. But fr he’s probably trimmed. Nothing too fancy but he keeps it clean.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He’s a romantic at heart, but only for you. He’d never tell anyone but on Valentine’s day he goes all out. Rose petals, candles, a massage. And he loves to buy you lingerie to wear for him.

J: Jack off )Masturbation hc)

He does it a lot when he’s by himself because he can’t believe he got such a sexy mf as his girl. He always thinks of you. If he’s ever too frustrated from training or a tournament he’ll rub one out by himself so he doesn’t take out his anger on you. He’d never want to hurt you. But if you’re there, he obviously prefers you over his hand.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Anal, Hair pulling, choking, he loves when you bite his shoulder when it feels good, or scratch his back so when he takes off his shirt at practice everyone knows he did a good job. He also loves to leave hickeys all over your neck and thighs. He’s a confident boi but he has an insecure past so he wants everyone to know you’re taken and taken well ;)

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He’ll take you anywhere and everywhere. Bed, the dojo, the canyon, on his motorcycle in an alley somewhere, he literally does. Not. care. You guys even did it in his mom’s Sentra while it was in the middle of the car wash

M: Motivation (What turns them on, what gets them going)

Any time you bend over, or ask him to help you with something like opening a jar, he likes to feel needed and wanted. You could honestly look at this boy funny and he’d pop a hard one.

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do)

Anything that causes you pain. He would never slap you or make you gag on him or anything like that. Also threesomes are out, whether that’s with another guy or another girl, he wants it to be just you and him always.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

The first time you went down on him he thought he was gonna explode. He couldn’t believe it was happening. But the first time he went down on you? He’d never heard such beautiful noises and he knew from then that he wanted to hear those little moans every day for the rest of his life. He’s got the basics down when you first get together, but after you show him what you really like and y’all start experimenting? God tier head.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Honestly depends on the day. When you guys first meet he just wants to impress you so he’s super fast and rough, but once you tell him that slow and steady wins the race, he starts to take his time. You still enjoy a good pounding every once in a while though

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

He’s the king of quickies (not too quick tho if ya know what I mean). He’s a young guy, he’s horny all the time and doesn’t care if anyone sees. He’s doing what he wants when he wants as long as you’re ok with it.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment)

YES. It’s his favorite thing. You both love to get freaky and try new things. He’d do anything you ask him to do, and do it well.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for)

Ngl, when y’all first got together, this kid would bust in under 10 minutes. He’s a young guy, you were his second girlfriend ever, and he spent most of his childhood thinking he would never even talk to a girl like you. He bounced back fast though and could go for multiple rounds. And he’s built up stamina over time so no issues here.

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

He loves to use toys on you. In the beginning, you were having trouble reaching the summit *wink wink* no matter what he did. He was amazing, but for whatever reason you couldn’t quite finish. You told him it was fine but he said he couldn’t enjoy it if he knew you weren’t enjoying it. So one day he bought a tiny pink vibrator and held it between your legs while he fucked you and you LOST IT. Now he has several different toys that he uses on you all the time.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s not much of a tease. He likes to let you both have what you want. But he loves when you tease him. The anticipation of you hovering over him, not knowing when or if you would finally sink down, gets him that much more excited.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Kind of quiet, but lots of swearing and groaning. Literally the “ugh fuck” right in your ear as he sinks into you. He doesn’t like to be too loud (his old shy self is still there) and would rather hear you scream for him.

W: Wild Card (Random hc)

He is very much into foreplay. He likes to make sure you’re on the brink of orgasm before he even gets in you. Your only sexual experiences before you met him were guys just shoving themselves into you completely dry and when you told him that, he promised you he would never do that to you. He’s been a foreplay prodigy ever since. It’s his thing.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Probably about 5 or 6 inches, average girth. Honestly size really is overrated. The G spot is only 3 inches in I’m tired of everyone acting like bigger is better. You Don’t Need Much if they’re using it right and he definitely does.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

On a scale of 1 to 10, Hawk is an 11. He could fuck you all day every day for the rest of his life. Morning, noon, and night. Rich or poor, in sickness and in health (I got carried away lmao)

Z: ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep after)

Hawk likes to cuddle, eat snacks, and watch a movie after. Maybe it’s because he always felt insecure sleeping around other people as Eli but he always lets you fall asleep first. He loves to feel like he’s watching over and protecting you while you sleep on his chest. Literally when you’re in such a vulnerable state around him he feels so honored and would die before he let anyone lay a finger on you.

[angry-geese]

hello, how are you? so i don't remember very well how it went, but yesterday i found your tumblr and i was amazed and you write so well 🥺💗

but then i'm a bucciarati simp (i will never get over your end) and i would like to know if you can write a scenario where the reader is just an ordinary citizen who admires bucciarati (because he helped her a while ago) and wants to join the passione and he's just against it because he doesn't want to expose her to danger, he just wants to know her real reason, so he uses his ability to find out if she's lying, which is very helpful as there's a sexual tension there and well, everything ends up in sex.

ok that was very specific lmao maybe if you want to change or are not willing to write, that's fine with me.

anyway thanks, you are amazing 💗💗

aww thank you <3

don't ever worry about being too specific, I always love seeing what other people come up with :)

Tomorrow - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. mutual pining, fluff. minor mention of violence. unprotected sex, quickie, fingering, hickeys, hair pulling, body worship (??? if you squint???). afab reader.

word count: 1.7k

It's hard to believe it's almost been a year.

Your shop had been open for barely a month. When you first moved to your neighborhood, it was made known to you it was a dangerous place. But rent was low, and the building was just too perfect to pass up on. Not many places had room for a bakery, and a space to live upstairs.

You were in over your head. But you were too stubborn to admit it.

It had caught his eye the moment he saw it. Maybe it was its cozy nature; a small shop tucked away, full of plants, a cat dozing off in the window. Or it could have been your inviting smile, the way you lit up as the door opened.

Every day he got the same order. By the end of the first week, you made sure to have it ready for him.

From the very beginning you faced issues. A business like yours attracted a lot of attention; good and bad. The local gangs knew you were bringing in money. They wanted a cut, and you weren't willing to give it to them.

You should have given it to them.

You were warned. They told you they'd come back. You were warned but didn't listen.

They trashed your shop. You swept broken glass from your floors for weeks before it finally came out. They were persistent; more than you ever thought. When you stood up to them, they threatened to kill you. They probably would have, had Bruno not stepped in. While you were willing to lay down your life for your business, he wasn't going to let you.

You're not quite sure what Bruno did, but you never saw those men again.

You never charged him for food again. If it meant he would keep coming back to your shop, you would do a lot of things. You said you owed him. At first, he was willing to accept. Weeks went on as you still refused his money. It got to the point where he felt bad. He hid money around your apartment hoping that you'd take the hint. But you never did.

You could never pay him back. Bruno claims you already have—with all the free food—but truly it's a debt that can't be repaid. Putting it lightly, you owe him your life.

The mess was cleaned up, but you'd never feel safe in your home again.

Over the past few months, Bruno had become one of your closest—if not your closest—friend. His little free time was spent at your shop. The two of you could talk for hours about nothing in particular. Business would come and go, but he was always there. If you called, he'd come running. You really didn't have to call. At the first sign of problems he was by your side.

Bruno's influence only works so much. He could only pay off those thugs for so long.

He was worried when you missed his call this morning.

His stomach sinks as he sees the broken glass.

You're not crying. You really don't look too upset. To you, this is the final nail in your coffin. You only notice him as he stops. You motion for him to sit next to you on the steps.

The people in this town are like vultures. They can sense any bit of fortune. Any money you have can't be kept for long. Stashing it away is never a good idea.

"What happened?" He asks.

"I didn't get my protection fees paid in time."

He takes a seat next to you. For the first time in his life, he feels speechless. As far as he knew, he'd taken care of this. Those thugs would have hell to pay.

"I want to join." You say.

"What?"

"I'm taking Polpo's test." You say. "I want to join Passione."

"Why?"

It's finally occurred to you how close your faces are.

You ball up your apron and toss it aside. You don't have a better answer for him. As much as you wish you did; you don't. You want to tell him anything but the truth. Really, he feels betrayed. Has he not done enough? Has this all gone to waste? He's tried all he can to keep you away from the gangs.

It seems it wasn't enough.

His grip on your arm tightens. You don’t dare look him in the eyes. As if you couldn't be more obvious. You nearly jump out of your skin as he licks a long stripe up your cheek. Instantly your face goes red. Your cheeks burn at the heat that sends right to your core. You're stammering out a few nonsensical sentence fragments.

"That's the taste of a liar, y/n."

You whip around to face him. "I want to be able to defend myself!"

The look in his eyes isn't what you expect. It's more a look of betrayal than anything. To be honest, you didn't expect him to have any reaction at all. He's rather adamant about keeping you away from Passione.

"I can protect you." His voice has gone oddly soft. "I'll take care of you."

Bruno's grip on your arms loosens.

He leans in for a kiss. It's soft, but his warmth lingers on your lips long after he's pulled away. He smells like fancy cologne, and almost like a restaurant, strangely enough. It's a weird, comforting mix of cooked food and expensive men's cologne.

He's wanted to do this since he first met you.

His hands move to cup your cheeks. They're so warm. It's hard to resist his touch. He looks at you with such longing that it makes your chest swell with affection. The heat in your face returns, but it's in less of a lewd manner. He admires every dip and curve of your clothed body; how your waist is cinched in whenever you wear your apron, how your strong hands work pastry dough into shape.

He leans in for another kiss. It's deeper this time, and leaves a longing ache in your chest. The rough muscle of his tongue presses past your lips. He tastes faintly of alcohol.

You're too impatient to get to your room. He'll settle on bending you over your apartment's kitchen counter. He wants to take his time with you, but for now, he's content with this. Maybe there'll be a second time.

His long fingers work to undo the buttons of your pants. You don't take a lot of prep work. You're already soaked. Two of his fingers press into you. They’re long, but fairly thin, and slide right into you. His fingers stroke against your g-spot as his thumb works circles around your clit. It doesn’t take him long to figure out just what makes you weak. Bruno has you a shaking, moaning mess in no time.

You lean against the counter, propping yourself up on your elbows. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his pants. His cock is built like the rest of him; long and dark. It’s girthy, but not intimidatingly big. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed, and the same color as the hair on his head. A vein runs up the bottom, only getting more prominent as he gets harder. He shoves your pants down to your knees.

Bruno groans as he sheathes himself in you. The feeling of your warm, wet cunt is intoxicating. Maybe he’s a bit more pent up than he thought. His hand buries in your hair. He leans forward to nip at your earlobe. Bruno coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him.

He rolls his hips against yours in desperate, quick motions. Bruno can't decide what to do with his hands. They're gripping your breasts, then your hips, then settling in your hair. He’ll have you like this again, he’s certain of it.

Heat pools in your stomach. His touch leaves you with an aching need for more.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long," he says, "you’re so beautiful.”

His fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He sucks a dark mark into your shoulder—one where you won’t be able to see it. It sends a whole new heat to your core. While his cock isn't the biggest, it curves in just a way that makes your toes curl.

He makes it known just what he thinks about you; babbling about how good you feel around him, about how long he’s wanted to do this.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. If you had any neighbors, you'd certainly be getting noise complaints. Your moans are like music to his ears. You don't worry about being quiet. Let others hear you, what do you care?

"Harder Bruno!" You cry out.

He can't resist something as beautiful as you.

His free hand moves to your clit, tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. He works you up in a way you never knew possible. Your skin feels feverish, and sensitive to the touch. The heat in your stomach only gets more unbearable. You want to beg him to cum inside. You need him to cum inside. Your mind is too hazy to think of much else but him and the way he fucks into you. He leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Something in you snaps. There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge; it's everything. You clench around him as you cum, crying out. The way you suck him back in is almost enough to send him over the edge.

His thrusts get sloppier as he nears his own orgasm. He scrambles against the counter for purchase, gripping the edge of it so tight his knuckles turn white. He doesn't want to risk cumming inside. He pulls out, giving himself a few pumps before cumming into his hand.

Bruno presses a kiss to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. Your skin is sticky with sweat. A tired, but pleased look spreads across your face. His hair tickles your neck. The sight of your shaky, sleepy form is almost enough to make him hard again.

You lean back into him, giggling. “We made a mess…”

“Want to make another?”

"Are you suggesting a round two?” It’s a joke, but you carry some seriousness behind it.

"Anything for you,"

[blossom-hwa]

You Look So Lovely, Darling (I’ll Love You for Lifetimes) - |BaL|

Kinda feels weird to be writing the proposal scene so early, but like? This drabble series is all out of order so whatever lmao :) enjoy some sweet nervous channie who just wants his proposal to be perfect <3

(and again, thanks to @deathbykpopboys​ for helping me work out this scene!! I LITERALLY owe you the world if you ever have ANY requests I'll be willing to write them :D)

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, slice of life, single parent!au

Triggers: cursing

Word Count: 2.9k

Chan just wants to give you a picture perfect proposal - why is that so hard?

SKZ Masterlist | Breathe, and Live | Touching Stars (TBZ teacher!au)

Proposing, Chan comes to learn, is no easy task.

It looks so simple in movies. One of the couple pulls a ring out of their pocket, kneels down in front of their significant other, and pops the question. There might be tears, but it always ends in pure joy.

Movies make it seem like a formula, a simple algorithm that Chan just has to follow in order to get this proposal right. In real life, though, Chan thinks he’s about to lose his mind.

Because movies don’t demonstrate how to act in front of an older brother very protective of his sister. They don’t show him how to talk to his children or hers, how best to ask them if they’re all right with gaining new siblings and a new parent. They don’t give him insight on how to pick the perfect god damn ring, something maybe reminiscent of the promise rings you both wear on chains around your necks, but also not too similar because what if you think he isn’t being creative?

And the worst thing is, they don’t tell him how to pick the perfect moment. They don’t tell him where to go, what ambience is right, whether or not little kids in the room will ruin the timing.

At this point, just thinking about proposing turns Chan into a stammering mess. Even though you’ve discussed marriage before, you haven’t made any large moves beyond that. Jisung and Felix have been calling you Mama for a bit, but Hyunjin has only just started calling him Papa, and mostly on accident (though each time he does, Chan’s heart fills with this overwhelming happiness that brings tears to his eyes). What if you decide now isn’t the right time? What if you decide you want to wait a little longer?

What if you decide Chan isn’t the right person for you?

That’s a question that plagues Chan every time his mind even brushes on the topic of marriage.

He loves you, though, he loves you so much. And he knows you’re the right partner for him, even if in the end you might decide he isn’t the right partner for you.

Patience, he tells himself, taking a deep breath. He really should be working on this new track, but instead, he’s staring into his hands, trying to map out the perfect proposal. Not too fast, Chan. Take it in steps.

The only problem is, step one scares him out of his wits.

. . . . .

Chan is a full year older than Minho, and then some. By all rights, he’s the elder, and he shouldn’t be as terrified of the younger man as he is.

Minho’s a scary person, though. He’s driven, concentrated, focused – it’s how he’s gotten so far as both a dancer and a father. Chan knows he’s hardworking, but Minho is just as much, if not more, than he is.

And he’s very protective of you.

(When Minho found out you two were dating, he told Chan, verbatim, “I won’t hesitate to take you to international waters, chop up your body, and toss the parts overboard if you hurt my sister.” Just thinking about the blank expression Minho had on when he spoke those words is almost enough to make Chan lose his nerve.)

But here he is, standing just outside of Minho’s studio, ready to knock. He’s sweating, not because it’s hot or anything (it’s actually pretty cold because Minho is weird like that), but just out of sheer nervousness. His heart feels like it’s pounding a mile a minute.

Oh, God. Chan raises his hand again to rap on the door. Stop thinking. Just do it.

He knocks.

A few seconds later, the dancer opens the door in all his sweaty glory. “Chan?”

“Yeah.” Chan tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it just looks like a grimace. “Can I ask you something?”

A glint comes into Minho’s eyes. “Of course, come on in.” He opens the door widely, smiling in a distinctly cat-like fashion that is literally scrambling Chan’s brain.

Why does he look like he knows what Chan’s about to ask?

The door swings shut with a soft but audible click, and with the noise goes Chan’s last chance to run away.

“So?” Minho looks over once Chan’s inside the room. He’s enjoying this way too much.

There’s no way he doesn’t know what I want to ask.

“I… um, so I’ve been dating your sister for a few years,” Chan starts.

Minho actually snorts. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Chan can feel the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Right. Um, I just wanted your approval for – I’m planning to – well, with your permission, of course –”

The smirk on Minho’s face only grows with each stuttering word that comes out of Chan’s mouth. And in all honesty, he actually has no idea what he’s saying. All of the sentences he rehearsed in his head before coming here seem to have completely flown out of his brain, and from Minho’s expression, he just sounds like an idiot.

He keeps going anyway, because nervous Chan doesn’t always make the best decisions to make himself look good.

“Well – um, look, I just really love her a lot.” Chan looks down with the admission, knowing he’s definitely rambled too much already, but he needs to get on with it and ask the stupid question. “I… wantedtoaskifyouwouldbeokaywithmeaskingtomarryher.”

Minho leans forward, eyes innocently wide. “Sorry, I didn’t get that, can you repeat what you said again?”

Lee Minho, you are a grade-A asshole.

Face burning, Chan clears his throat. “I wanted to ask if you would be okay with me asking to marry her. Your sister, I mean.”

Silence. Minho leaves him in silence for five whole seconds which feel more like five millennia. Chan thinks he’s going to crumble into dust on the floor out of terror and embarrassment.

“Do you have a ring?” Minho finally asks.

Chan’s cheeks burn redder. “Not… not yet.”

“So you’ll need help picking one, then?” The dancer raises one perfect eyebrow.

“… Yes?”

“Beautiful. I’ll be there whenever you need me.” Minho smiles. “Anything else you wanted to ask?”

Chan just stands there, dumbfounded. “So… is your answer yes?”

The smile immediately drops off of Minho’s face, replaced by an eye roll and a sigh. “Yes, Bang Chan, you idiot.” He punches Chan’s shoulder. “No one’s ever going to fully deserve Y/N, but you’re the closest I think anyone’s going to get. You really thought I’d say no?”

Rubbing his arm, Chan smiles sheepishly. “You can’t blame me for being nervous.”

“What? Nervous, around me?” Minho laughs, sharp and loud. Even though Chan knows he’s teasing, it’s still a bit frightening. “Never would’ve thought that.”

“You’re just proving my point,” Chan says.

“No, I’m not.” Minho smiles, close-lipped and slit-eyed. It’s terrifying. “Now, off you go. And don’t come back unless you need help picking a ring!”

It takes Chan five minutes of sitting in the hallway, garnering strange looks from several people passing by, before his legs are stable enough to take him back to his own studio. Heart still pounding, he mentally crosses a line through step one.

Next comes step two. Chan purses his lips. Step two is a bit less scary than step one (mostly because it involves children and not Lee Minho), but no less challenging.

Well, he got through Minho. Chan sighs. He just has to hope that the kids will be as receptive to the idea of a new parent as Minho was to a brother-in-law.

. . . . .

The kids know that you and Chan are at least, in some shape or form, together. They might not understand the nuances, like how you’re technically dating but don’t always refer to yourselves as boyfriend and girlfriend (because it just feels so much deeper than that, somehow), but they understand that you two “like” each other (Jisung pretends to vomit every time he hears the word “love,” so Chan just uses the word “like” to avoid that) and thus live together.

They love it, most of the time. Hyunjin was a little put out when he found out he would have to share a room with two other boys, but after Minho moved out and Hyunjin realized he would get his uncle’s old (and slightly bigger) room, he happily accepted the new plan. Jisung and Felix were mostly just happy to live with their best friend.

(Children, Chan just thinks. They’re so easy and so hard to please.)

Of course, there are difficulties. Jisung’s sensitive and has more than once broken down when he thinks Chan isn’t giving him enough attention with a new boy in the household. Felix’s tantrums are rarer, but they exist, and Hyunjin is still getting used to sharing his mom with someone else.

They’re a family, though, a messy, mostly happy family that can pull together at the end of the day and whisper “I love yous” to each other before bedtime. And that’s something Chan values more than anything in the world.

Which is why obtaining his kids’ approval for officially tying the knot is something so important to him.

He gathers them together one day in the apartment with the promise of watching a cartoon show after he asks them something. Three pairs of big eyes stare up at him from the couch, and Chan feels his heart melting with love and racing with anxiety.

Chan takes a breath. “Do you know what marriage is?”

“Yeah!” Jisung pipes up. ���It’s when a girl and a boy get together and kiss!”

The laughter spills out of Chan’s mouth before he can even think. “Well, not quite, Jisung,” he chokes out, trying to stifle his remaining giggles. “It’s when two people who love each other very much get together officially. Marriage can be between a woman and a man, a man and a man, or a woman and a woman. Any two people can get married.”

Three small heads bob their heads in understanding.

“I wanted to ask you three if you would be okay with me marrying Y/N.” Chan looks each of the boys in the eye. “Is it?”

Felix nods quickly. “Yes!”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “Are we still going to live together?”

Chan smiles. “Yes, Sungie.”

The other twin nods. “Okay!”

Hyunjin’s mouth pouts slightly. “Will I have to call you Papa?”

A little piece of Chan’s heart breaks, but he tries not to show it. “No, of course not, Hyunjin.” He smiles as brightly as he can. “You can keep calling me Channie or Uncle Channie or whatever you want. You don’t have to call me Papa if you don’t want to.”

Hyunjin’s round, dark eyes gaze into his with a solemnity Chan honestly didn’t know toddlers could have. “Do you want me to call you Papa?”

Oh, fuck.

What the hell does Chan say to that?

With a sigh, he decides to be honest. “I would love it if you did, Hyunjin, but like I said, you don’t have to. I’ll never force you to do something you really don’t want to.”

There are a few seconds of silence, then Hyunjin nods. “Okay. You can marry my Mama.”

A weight lifts itself off of Chan’s chest and he smiles, freer this time. “Thank you, kids. One more thing – don’t tell Y/N about this!” He looks into each of their eyes, trying to convey how serious he is but in a fun way. “It’s a secret, okay?”

“Like a spy mission?” Jisung bounces in excitement.

The smile on his face widens. “Yes, Sungie. Like a spy mission.” He looks at the other two boys. “Do you promise? Pinky promise?” He holds out his pinkie.

The three resulting shouts of “YES!” make Chan hope their neighbors won’t come knocking. But even if they did, Chan thinks, he wouldn’t care.

He’d go to the ends of the earth to defend these three kids, after all.

. . . . .

Step three goes by in a flash. Out of sheer anxiety, Chan actually takes a full day off from work and calls Minho for help in finding the perfect ring.

Miraculously, he finds something within his budget range – a silver band with a small diamond set in the center. It’s simple but elegant, and the diamond glints beautifully in the sunlight. Really, the ring matches the way Chan often finds himself summing up your existence.

So only the last step remains: the actual proposal.

Looking back, Chan has no idea why he thought each of the other steps was so stressful. This is pure stress, he thinks, waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. Should he plan something extravagant? Or should he just go with the flow? When is the perfect time, anyway? What constitutes “perfect” in your mind? In his?

Minho just tells him to wait for the moment he thinks is “right.” But what the hell does “right” even mean?

“You’ll figure it out.” The dancer gives Chan a bright grin, patting his shoulder. “And if you don’t, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

Chan just puts his face in his hands and screams.

. . . . .

When Chan proposes, the sky is dark. The kids are already tucked in bed, and you’re sitting on the couch, leaning into his shoulder as you mindlessly scroll through your phone.

Absently strumming his guitar, Chan smiles down at your face, illuminated by your phone’s glow. As if sensing him staring, you look up as well. “Sing me something?” you murmur.

“Of course, love.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “What song?”

“Anything you choose,” you reply. “Anything.”

Chan thinks for a moment, then starts strumming the instrument.

Softly, with mood, tightly hug her

Use it once a day, every day…

When your eyes meet hers, smile.

The characteristic chords of one of your favorite songs make you relax even further into Chan’s body, a smile blooming across your face. He badly wants to stop playing and just kiss you good and full, but he keeps his fingers strumming the guitar.

Let her breathe under a different sky, a different wind,

Sometimes, kiss her without a plan…

Chan almost stops playing.

Without a plan.

He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t have any proper plan on how he’s going to pull the little box out of his pocket and ask the question. But now…

Maybe he’s got an idea.

The final chords die away, and Chan finally gets his long-awaited kiss when you sit up lethargically, pressing your lips to his softly. “Are you awake enough for one more?” he whispers when you pull away.

“Mm, one more.” You nod happily, snuggling back into his side. “Then sleep.”

Chan takes a breath. One chance, Chan. This is your chance.

His fingers start strumming a song very familiar by now to him and the boys. From the way your eyes light up, you recognize it too.

It doesn’t have words. It’s just a collection of guitar chords, hastily arranged in a sweet, rough melody. In the track version, it would have piano, but because Chan only has two hands, he has to make do with just the strings of the guitar.

It’s the first song he ever wrote for his twins, the song he created that day so many years ago when they weren’t even born, when they were still kicking in their mother’s stomach. They think of it as their family song, the song he plays when the twins are sad, when they can’t get to sleep, or when they just want to hear something nice.

The last strains of the song fade away and Chan looks at you to see a tear glittering on your cheek. “You play that when the boys are sad,” is all you say. “It’s your family song.”

Chan smiles softly. “But you’re part of the family too.”

When he pulls out the box, your eyes widen. “Chan –”

“Shh.” He presses a finger gently to your lips. “Y/N, the past few years you’ve been with me have been some of the best of my life, and I can’t ever thank you enough for staying with me all this time.” There’s a tear welling up in Chan’s eye, but he blinks it away. “I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, if you would marry me.”

There’s a moment of silence that nearly gives Chan a heart attack. What if you say no?

“You – you stupid romantic sap.” The tears are really sliding down your cheeks now, but your mouth is smiling wide. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Chan. I’ll marry you.”

Chan can’t speak as he slides the ring onto your finger with trembling hands. Throat choked, he can only pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder as your tears soak his shirt. “I love you so much,” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough for to see your eyes sparkling with love, so much love. Your touch intoxicates him, with your fingers pressing gently against his skin as you press your lips to his in a sweet, sweet kiss.

Yes, he thinks. You’re the right partner for him.

The perfect partner for him.

Teary-eyed, he smiles. “I love you too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 congratulations for the newly engaged couple!!!)

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 8.8k / genre: smut, established relationship, driftracer!au

summary: Jimin’s been pretty busy recently and you’re starting to feel neglected. Guess you’ll just have to make him pay attention somehow.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), unsafe driving (back at it with the street racing), cursing, mild degradation, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (it goes without saying but please use protection guys), creampie, controlled orgasm (delay), multiple orgasms (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names

THIS IS A FOLLOW UP TO ‘CATCH YOUR DRIFT’— please read the original first

a/n: to everyone who was asking about a cyd follow-up—here it is! it’s basically a pwp with the flimsiest of plots lmao. enjoy!! x

--

“Jimin's up to something.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks away from where he’s been fiddling with something in the Pontiac’s engine. “What?”

“Jimin,” you repeat, slowly. “He’s up to something.”

Park Jimin. Breathtaking, captivating, gorgeous Park Jimin—unstoppable in his sleek black Nissan Skyline GTR, a master in his element, relentless, incredible. Your rival and main competitor on the track. The one person who challenges you, who you measure yourself against, who you always strive to beat.

Park Jimin. Your boyfriend.

“He’s been… weird lately,” you say, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Jungkook looks a little baffled but also concerned, eyes darting over in the same direction as yours. Jimin’s already kissed you good luck, a soft, lingering touch of his lips against yours before returning to his own car, and you’ve been watching him get ready for tonight’s race. He lounges against his black Skyline and laughs at something that Yoongi and Taehyung are talking about, looking every inch the king that he is.

Jimin is as striking and dazzling as always, jacket covered in jewels that burst outwards like fireworks, the cut of his metallic shirt low enough to reveal his collarbones and smooth skin of his chest. The only understated part of his outfit is the pair of unadorned silver hoops in his ears, simple and elegant. A gift from you that he wears every time you race.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise a little. “What do you mean he’s up to something?” 

Honestly, being with Jimin is a dream. At first you’d been concerned that your competitive natures would clash and that being opponents on the drifting circuit would cause friction in your relationship—but it actually works out really well. Jimin makes you strive to be a better person, the best you can be, both on and off the track. You’re both as invested in giving each as much attention as you do to winning races, and the truth is that a lot of the fierceness you show on the track melts away entirely when you’re alone together: it just highlights how multifaceted and incredible Jimin is.

He’s a ruthless competitor. He’s also sweet and caring and kind and he always makes time for you. 

Or at least, he normally does.

“He keeps saying he’s busy, and he seems to be distracted when we’re together,” you admit to Jungkook in a low hush. There’s no one within hearing distance of your Pontiac but you’re still cautious. Your relationship with Jimin is well known throughout the circuit now and you don’t want people overhearing intimate details about it. It’s none of their business. “I don’t know, Kookie, it’s… it’s concerning. I guess.”

You’re usually self-assured and confident but right now you sound unsure. Jungkook’s known you for years and years and is one of your closest friends, but even so, admitting this to him is difficult—and he knows it. 

Jungkook pulls the hood of your car down, shutting it with firm hands before he leans across the metal towards you. “Have you tried asking him about it?” 

“Of course.”

“What did he say?”

“We, uh, got distracted,” you say, and Jungkook makes a face at the implication.

“Maybe next time you’re trying to have a serious conversation you shouldn’t let yourself get ‘distracted’?” He raises his eyebrows as he lifts his hands to make air quotations at you and you pout.

“But his ass is just so perfect, can you blame me?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m out,” Jungkook says while looking pained, and you can’t help but laugh.

Later, though, when you beat Jimin in the race, he lavishes attention on you like he always does—you’d barely inched out ahead of him tonight and so he takes his time when he works you up, touch light and teasing as he runs his hands over you. Your head tilts forward as you pant, bent over the hood of his car as he fingers you open, deep and slow. Just the way you like it, even if you’re hungry for more.

“Jimin, please.” Your voice is desperate as you beg and try to rock against his fingers, get him to move faster. “I need you inside me, god—”

Your words choke off when you feel a sharp smack against the bared skin of your ass, a small punishment for your impatience. You let out a gasp that turns into a quiet moan, turning to hide your face in your elbow to try and stifle the noise as Jimin’s hands immediately soothe over the touch, soft as he rubs over your heated skin.

“Patience, baby.” His voice is low. “You’ll get my cock when you’re nice and ready. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, a little breathless. “I just want you so bad.”

You’re still turned away from him but you can hear the affection in Jimin’s answer as he leans forward to kiss the sensitive skin just behind your ear. “I know, sweet thing.”

Once he finally sinks his cock into you, it doesn’t take long for him to pull you over the edge, your nails scraping against the warm metal of his car as your body goes tense and you cum. Jimin follows soon after, spilling himself inside you as you shiver and clench around him, trying to draw him in as deep as possible; no matter how many times he fucks you open it never gets old, the way you can feel his body move against yours, the way he gasps and moans as he reaches his own edge, the way he holds you close as you both go lax against each other, warm and tender.

“Are you free on Saturday?” You’re perched on the hood of his Nissan afterwards, arms curled around his neck as you pull away to look up at him. “I thought you might want to come over for dinner and a film? You can choose which one we watch, I’m not picky.”

A quick expression flits across Jimin’s face, faster than you can identify, before it turns apologetic. “Sorry, baby. I’m busy this Saturday. How about next week?”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Um. Do you want to… grab a quick lunch instead? Or something? When you’re free?”

Jimin turns his face into your hair, nuzzling into your scalp before he kisses the crown of your head. “I think I’ll be busy all weekend, but I’ll let you know, okay?”

You pause and try to hide the surprising amount of pain and confusion that shoots through you at his subtle dismissal, schooling your features before Jimin pulls away to look at you. “Okay baby,” you say brightly. “I hope you have a good weekend, either way.”

Jimin cups your face gently as he smiles at you, all warmth and open affection before he dips down to softly kiss you on the lips. “I will.”

--

If you didn’t trust Jimin so much you’d think he was cheating on you.

You know that Jimin has his own life outside of you and you’re okay with that. You honestly are. It’s not that you want to monopolise his time, but he’s usually so willing to give it to you without you even asking—so now that it seems like he’s pulling away, it’s all the more pronounced when it happens, and you can’t help but wonder why. You’re trying not to be pushy and you haven’t outright demanded Jimin tell you what he’s so busy with; it must be important if he’s prioritising it over you and keeping it a secret, right?

Right?

You’re not needy or overbearing or clingy, but you are a tad possessive, and you can’t help but feel jealous of whatever it is that’s catching Jimin’s attention so much.

“Uh.” Taehyung’s eyes are wide. “Y/n, uh… your bra is? Kind of? Showing a little bit?”

“I know Tae, but thank you.” You take one last glance at yourself in your wing mirror before straightening up, content with how you look tonight. “I can assure you it’s entirely intentional.”

You usually opt for feminine outfits when you race, but they’re never normally this revealing; it’s borderline scandalous, really. Your bra is visible through the lace mesh of your shirt and your skirt is hiked so high it barely covers your ass, pleats fluttering each time you move. The thing that’s covering you the most is actually your pink leather jacket, but even that’s not enough to hide you from any eyes that are roving over you.

But the real kicker—the part of the outfit that would let anyone with discerning eyes know that you’re aiming for aesthetic over practicality—are your shoes. Your over-the-knee suede boots have a killer heel and they have got to be the worst things to drive with, the heels making it hard to shift your feet when you need to slam them onto the pedals, but you don’t care.

“I still think you should try talking to Jimin instead of doing… this,” Jungkook says, waving an arm at you.

“You just gestured to all of me.” You raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Not that you don’t always look good, of course, but tonight you’ve pulled out all the stops and it shows.

“That’s my point,” Jungkook groans. “If I nearly catch sight of your butt cheeks one more time I’m going to call the police. I’m feeling distinctly harassed.”

“You should be grateful.” You blow him a kiss and Jungkook makes a face.

“I’m going to call 911.”

“We’re not in America, Kookie,” Taehyung says. Jungkook just sighs.

Seokjin’s organised the meet at a car park in Gangnam tonight, and you watch as the lot starts to fill up, tweaked Supras and Skylines and Fairlady Zs whose engines rumble as their drivers descend into the underground level, filling the basement with noise. There are unfamiliar faces you don’t recognise, rich residents of Seoul’s most expensive neighbourhood rolling out to show off their money by way of their beautiful cars. 

You know a lot of these people won’t be racing tonight and they’re just here for the novelty of it all. Good for them. You have other things on your mind.

(If Jimin isn’t going to give you time when you want it, then you’re not going to let him take it when he wants it.  He hasn’t turned up yet but you know the second he sees you he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you—but tonight you’re not going to let him have you.)

You’re perched on the hood of your flame-red Pontiac as you wait for everyone to finish turning up, pretending to be absorbed in checking your nails as you cross your legs; you don’t have to look up to know that people are staring at you and your shameless behaviour. 

They can watch. You’re not doing this for them.

You glance up at the sound of a deep rumble, almost a purr, and your eyes widen at the sight of the next car that rolls into view. It must be the only time you’ve ever been caught off guard by an unfamiliar vehicle and you don’t even have to pretend to be overawed, breathless as you take in the gorgeous sight. 

She’s low and sleek and magnificent, stark black cut through with a thick ribbon of blood red that rises over the car's bonnet and roof, matching the crimson wheel trims and strip of colour that trails over the edge of its spoiler. The LED headlights glow white and red, crimson halo rings shimmering through the pristine and unmarked glass. She’s all smooth lines and curved edges, every contour a graceful stroke that builds up into a masterpiece, heavenly and bewitching all at once.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe, and for the first time since you started racing, you approach someone’s car before you even know who they are.

The driver is a man you don’t recognise. He’s stepped out of the car and is leaning against it casually, arms crossed and head tilted as he surveys the other motors lined up nearby, running a hand through his dyed brown hair to push it away from his forehead. He’s tall and handsome with his defined cupid’s bow and hooded eyes, and he’d almost look sleepy if he wasn’t watching you so intently, noticing your approach and keeping his eyes on you as you step forwards.

“Oh my god. A Dodge Viper?” You can’t begin to imagine the exportation costs for this thing and how much it must have cost to get the parts to modify it, let alone maintain it. (But Gangnam is an incredibly wealthy area, after all, so you’re not too surprised.)

“You like it?” The Viper’s owner tilts his head at you, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “I can take you for a drive later if you’d like, beautiful.”

“Trust me, if I was sitting in this car, I’d be behind the wheel,” you say. “I bet she drives like a dream. How did you get your hands on an SRT-10 ACR? In Seoul?”

His smirk grows wider. “Brought it with me from Chicago.” He shrugs carelessly, as if it can’t have cost him a small fortune. Like the money means nothing to him. Pocket change. Holy shit. “You wanna take that seat behind the wheel to see if it suits your fancy?”

It does. You run your hands over the leather seats and tilted wheel, pretending to hide a laugh behind your hand as the driver, Johnny, leans into the car to adjust the seat for you; you spread your legs so he can reach between them to pull the bar before he can move the chair, helping you hitch it forwards so you can reach the pedals with your feet, your legs shorter than his. It’s nothing lewd but it’s undeniably flirtatious, even if you’re more focused on drinking down the car’s beautiful interior than pandering to his attention on you.

Johnny holds a hand out to help you step out of the low car and back onto your feet, taking a second to steady yourself on your heels. You’ve been so focused on the Viper that you haven’t been paying attention to the other vehicles that now fill the parking lot, but over Johnny’s shoulder you notice a car that’s as familiar as your own by now—Jimin’s black Skyline.

Your hand is still lingering in Johnny’s as you take the sight in. Jimin looks surprisingly flashy today, jewel embellished bomber jacket catching the eye, Gucci shirt tucked into leather trousers that are cinched tight against his waist by his belt, highlighting his thick thighs and perfect ass. Still pink-haired and always gorgeous. Your beautiful, charming, wonderful boyfriend.

When you make eye contact with him for the first time that night, a hot shiver shoots through you, goosebumps rising over your skin. Jimin’s lips are a firm line and his eyes are dark through the soft touch of faint eyeshadow, and he looks almost impassive, cold; even when you’d first met, back when you’d been nothing more than opponents, he’d never looked like this. 

He’s furious.

He doesn’t come over to wish you good luck today and you don’t approach him either.  Even if this hadn’t been your aim to begin with, who can blame you? You’ll work with this. Maybe it’s passive aggressive, maybe it’s petty, but if Jimin isn’t going to give you the time of day you can’t be blamed if you’re feeling starved for attention, right?

Johnny might be watching, and others might be staring, but at the end of the day you’re only ever aware of one man—and Jimin knows that. 

You’ve been driving your Pontiac for long enough that adding heels to the mix doesn’t throw you off as much as people might expect (besides, you’ve been practicing). Even so, it wouldn’t matter if they did, because you’re not wearing them to help achieve a victory—for the first time ever, you don’t care if you beat Jimin today. Not on the track, anyway. You wanted him wound up and frustrated, desperate to touch you, and it seems like he is.

It shows in his driving. He’s always a sight to behold when he races, swaying his body into the motion of his car as they dance together, every motion practiced and sure. But tonight his actions are sharp and angry. Jimin curls his Skyline into each turn, hard and fast; the Nissan almost seems to float as he pulls the steering wheel and sets the wheels at the perfect angle to achieve his drift, swinging effortlessly around the crescents of safety cones of today’s course. 

He beats you. 

And yet you’re the one who’s smiling. You step out of your car and take in his frosty expression; your heart pounds in your chest but you pretend to be unaffected, disappearing into the throng of fans who are hollering in excitement for the after party now that all the races have finished. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Hoseok seems unperturbed when you loop your arm through his, staying cheerful as you latch onto him. He’s still one of the few drivers who you actually like and trust to not be lecherous towards you, no matter what you’re wearing. “Wow, you’re a lot taller than normal. Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know,” you say. It’s true—he’d disappeared after the race and you have no idea where he’s gone, but you know you’ll find him eventually. Or he’ll find you. You always find each other in the end. “Where are the drinks? Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Hoseok manages to find some cans of coke, much to your delight. He tilts his own can against yours in a cheers motion as you continue to cling to him, sipping your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for where your boyfriend might have disappeared to. 

By the time your can is empty and drained of liquid, Jimin has yet to appear. You frown. It’s not like him to be gone for so long, even if he’s angry right now. You unravel your arm from Hoseok’s and pat his cute cheek as a thank you for letting you hold onto him for so long before you slip away from the after party; you’re uninterested in keeping up the facade of having fun if Jimin isn’t around. 

The elevator is deserted when you step into it, pressing the button to take you to the roof, where you’d left your Pontiac after finishing the race earlier. It’s starting to get chilly and your sheer top does nothing to protect you from the nip in the air. You draw your leather jacket closer around you once the elevator doors open, stepping out onto the rooftop and towards your Solstice. 

There are no lights up here but you don’t need any. Gangnam never sleeps, lights from billboards and skyscrapers washing over each of the buildings, and the sky is clear tonight too—the moon is shining down, silver and bright. You spot a familiar silhouette, bathed in white light where he sits atop your Pontiac’s hood, leaning back on his palms in the way he always does.

Jimin’s the only person who's allowed to touch your car like that.

You let your jacket fall back open as you approach. Jimin’s eyes flicker over to you, his face remaining hard as he watches. A cold shiver runs down your spine but you hold your ground—you’re not about to bow down immediately in the face of his quiet frustration.

Jimin’s eyes slide over you, taking every inch of you in; each part of your revealing outfit, your flawless makeup, your boots, their unnecessary heel. Even though you know he’s angry right now you can tell he likes what he sees and you can’t help but feel pleased about it. 

“Come here, sweet thing,” he says. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand between his legs, because of course you immediately comply with him; he lifts one hand off the car’s bonnet to grasp your chin in his hands, tilting your face down towards him. He doesn’t let go. His grasp is firm. “Any reason why you’re so dolled up today?”

“Nope.” You pop your lips loudly around the p. “No reason at all. Why, do I need a reason to want to look pretty?”

Jimin’s grip tightens and his eyes narrow. Wrong answer. A small puff of air escapes you, knees weak—you’ve never seen Jimin so affected by anything and you feel weirdly powerful at this realisation. There’s something thrilling to know that only you can get under his skin like this.

“Of course not.” Jimin’s voice is deceptively smooth and low, something burning in his gaze. “Just seems to me like my baby wanted everyone’s eyes on her tonight, for one reason or another.”

You stay silent. You don’t want everyone’s eyes on you: you just want his.

Jimin crooks one of his eyebrows at you as you remain quiet. He takes his hand off your chin and lets it fall, dragging it over the lace of your top, through the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before slipping under the hem, splaying his hand over your belly. You can’t help but shiver, body singing under his touch when he draws his nails lightly over your skin. The sight of his hand against you, visible through the netting of your shirt, sets the blood to rising in your veins.

“Oh? Shy all of a sudden, baby?” His eyebrow is still raised as he watches your movements, the way you react to him so easily, always attuned to his touch. “Where was all that shyness earlier, hm? You seemed so bold behind the wheel of that little Viper.”

“I was just having a look,” you say, acting a little pettish. You hadn’t been planning on letting Jimin touch you, but—but you’re so weak for him, and besides, you don’t want him thinking that you’re shying away from his hands because you’d been talking to Johnny earlier.

Jimin rises, pulling his hand from under your shirt as he does. “And everyone was looking at you,” he says. You know he can be possessive and it’s fine, because you are too, and you have no eyes for anyone else but him; normally he likes it when people look at you, because they don’t have a chance and he knows it. “Do you like it when people watch you, sweet thing?”

He punctuates this question with a movement of his hands, one coming to rest at your collarbones, the other sliding between your legs with no warning, running his fingers over the material of your underwear. You jolt in surprise, sucking in a breath.

“You want me to take you right here, hm?” His fingers are rubbing small, tantalisingly light circles over your clit, your panties a maddening barrier between your skin and his. “Bend you over and fuck you on this rooftop where anyone could see?”

Your cunt clenches, entire body going tight at the idea, and Jimin’s eyes darken when he notices. He flips your positions, and your hand fly out to brace yourself against the hood of your car as Jimin shoves the material of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist, revealing the scalloped edges of your skimpy lace underwear and the two tiny bows that adorn the centre line of them.

“You want me to call everyone up here? Let them see how well you take my cock?” Jimin continues to run his palms over the flesh of your ass as he speaks. He digs his fingers into your skin and a moan slips out of your lips, the pain shooting through you and dulling into pleasure. “I bet you want them to touch you too, don’t you?”

“No,” you insist. “No, Jimin, only want you—”

“You expect me to believe that you’re not a hungry little cockslut, dressed the way you are tonight, hm?”

You’re blindsided by the arousal that floods through you. You know that Jimin doesn’t think that, not really, but the way he lets the degradation fall from his lips has your toes curling.

“I only want your cock,” you say, trembling. Any rush of power you felt earlier is gone. Jimin is entirely in control now and you both know it. “Wanted you to look at me—dressed pretty for you—”

“Oh, sweet thing,” Jimin hums, sounding indulgent. “You were just feeling needy, was that it?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, need you so much.”

God. You’re so weak and needy right now, and it’s crazy how much power Jimin has over you; you’ve never been so ready and willing to surrender yourself up before, your earlier planning and resolve slipping away almost as soon as Jimin had laid his hands on you. But what you have with Jimin is built on trust, and you trust him enough to be vulnerable in front of him, to let him see how hungry and desperate you are for his touch.

Then again, he’s always hungry for you, too.

He strokes his hands down your ass and thighs before he circles his hand around your throat to pull you up. He puts no pressure behind his fingertips but you feel helpless anyway, breathless as he pulls you flush against him, your back to his chest, head tilted upwards with how his hand is resting around your throat.

Jimin’s voice is pitched low and his breath is warm against your ear as he lets the words curl out of his mouth. “What does my baby need?”

Oh, he does so love to hear you beg. Your eyes flicker towards a sudden flash of light; there’s someone using the elevator, panel lighting up, letting you know they’re on the way to the rooftop.

“Jimin—”

He presses closer to you, trapping you against your car, helpless. “If you don’t tell me what you need you won’t get it,” he says, and you shudder.

“Need you to fuck me,” you gasp out. “Need you to make me cum—need you to fill me up—want you so bad—”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Jimin steps away just as the elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a gaggle of people, fans crowding around a few drivers. The smile on Jimin’s face is wicked as you turn around, and you almost hate how nonchalant he looks while you’re so affected. You have no doubt the flimsy material of your underwear and the high hem of your skirt is doing nothing to hide how slick you are, so you’re grateful that the rooftop is only lit in dim light.

One of the drivers peels off from the group and you realise that it’s Johnny. He approaches you despite how Jimin wraps an arm around your waist, hand sliding under your jacket—you let yourself relax, leaning against Jimin’s familiar body, settling against him in a way you don’t even have to think about any more.

“Nice driving,” Johnny says. He hadn’t actually raced himself, but his Dodge is a powerful and vicious beast, so you’re not surprised he didn’t want to risk damaging her in the tight corners of the car park. She thrives on the open road, not indoors. “Want to put those skills to the test in my Viper?”

“She’s busy.” Jimin pulls you even closer. He has his usual mask on now, distant and aloof. You’re the only one who sees his softness, or his lust. (That’s only for you.)

“Wasn’t talking to you, man.” Johnny doesn’t even spare Jimin a glance, ignoring him despite how Jimin had beaten you earlier—he just stares at you. You can’t help but feel insulted on your boyfriend’s behalf. He’s a fantastic driver and he deserves every bit of attention that Johnny is lavishing on you.

“Thank you, but it’s true, I’m busy,” you say. Jimin’s thumb is slowly brushing up and down your side; just a small, tiny motion, but you’re hyperaware of it. You lift your hand to rest on Jimin’s chest, over the raised, glittering Roman numerals of his shirt. “Enjoy your Viper. She’s beautiful.”

Johnny stands there for a second and then shrugs. “Aight,” he says. “I will. Have a nice night, I guess.”

He wanders off and gets absorbed back into the group of people he’d appeared with. Jimin turns his head and kisses your cheek, and then your ear, dipping his head to mouth at your neck, and you grip the hand that’s resting on your waist.

“Jiminie,” you say. “We need to go.”

He laughs against the skin of your throat. He sounds smug, the desperation obvious in your tone. “Always so needy, sweet thing,” he murmurs. “Haven’t heard the saying all good things come to those who wait?”

Jimin’s making you pay for your earlier boldness and you know it. There’s an ache between your legs, one that needs to be satisfied, but he seems happy to wait, unruffled. You’re so riled up right now and he seems unmoved, even if the iciness around him has melted now.

“I’ve been waiting all night.” You squirm a little, tightening your thighs, trying to offer yourself some relief; Jimin can always turn you on so fast and you can feel a physical throb of arousal in your cunt, lips swollen, begging to just be touched.

He lets out a little sigh, as if he’s being put upon right now. You’re torn between wanting to kiss him or shove him away from your car.

“Fine,” you say, making your tone a petulant one as you turn your nose up. “I guess I’ll just go home and grab my vibrator—”

Jimin tugs you against him, his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.  His voice is quiet but undeniable. “No, you won’t. I’m not done with you, sweet thing. You’re always so impatient.” He loosens his hold so he can pull his head away and then he’s smiling at you; there’s something behind that smirk, something in his eyes. “Come on, baby.”

He gives you no chance to question him. You drive beside him in your Solstice, trying to ignore how your skirt is hitched up and you can feel yourself dripping on the leather seat; the rumble and vibrations of your car provide the barest of reliefs, nowhere near what you really want. 

You know Jimin’s apartment will be deserted tonight, Yoongi staying with Taehyung, leaving you and Jimin alone, but he still teases you even as you step inside. You try to crowd up against Jimin, get him to touch you— you know that he wants to and he usually gives in once you’re this wound up and aching, but tonight he seems content not to. At one point you try to guide his hand under your shirt again and he grabs your wrist, giving you a look that makes your knees go weak, even if you scowl at him. He hasn’t even kissed you properly yet.

“Be patient,” he says. 

There’s a note of warning in his voice. Normally you’d be more willing and pliant, ready to listen, but this entire escapade started because you’re feeling neglected and ignored—this is just the icing on the cake.

“I have been! Come on,” you whine. “Don’t you want your reward for winning tonight?”

Jimin’s mouth is a hard line. “I’m going to claim my prize,” he says. “But it seems like you’re making this about you, aren’t you? Always so greedy, sweet thing. I guess I’ve been too lax with you, haven’t I?”

You pause. He has that look in his eye, one that you’ve started to recognise the more you see it, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you realise that he’s starting to take complete control of the situation. You’re equals on the track, and equals in this relationship, but recently in the bedroom you’ve been giving up your position at the helm sometimes, letting Jimin control the pace.

Because you trust him.

“Maybe,” you answer, and Jimin smiles. “But you can’t blame me for that.”

“No, that’s true,” Jimin says. “That’s why I’ll only punish you for your earlier shameless behaviour, not your impatience. I’ll give you five.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate on what he means. Five spanks. Barely anything, really. You scoff. “Five? Why even bother at that point?”

Jimin’s eyes darken. “Another five for answering back. That’s ten altogether. You want to keep going, baby?”

Do you? You’re not sure. Jimin’s helped you discover that you enjoy spanking, sure, but do you really want to waste time on more spanks when you could be getting something better?

You’ve clearly been quiet for long enough that Jimin finds it concerning. “What’s your colour, sweet thing?”

A warm flush of affection spreads through your chest, the reminder that no matter what happens, you have your safewords: that even though you feel like Jimin is controlling the direction of the night, you have the power to stop it if you need to. You decide that ten is enough. “Green,” you say. “I’m green, Jimin.” 

You watch as he smiles at you, pleased, before he pulls the rings off his right hand, dropping them to the coffee table and ignoring the clatter of metal against glass. Once his hand is free and unadorned he takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, patting his thighs. “Boots off, and then I want you over here, baby.”

You shrug your jacket off and let it fall to the floor before you pull the tie-string at the top of your boots, letting them sag open before you kick them aside. You try to ignore how slick your folds feel and how wet you are as you make your way over to him, draping yourself across his lap; his thighs feel so thick and firm under your stomach, shifting forwards so that your ass is tilted up towards him, settling over his knees. You glance over your shoulder to look at Jimin but he just tuts.

“Eyes forward.”

You bite your lip but obey, facing forwards again as you stretch your arms in front of you, staring at your hands. You can’t see what Jimin is doing but you focus on the sensation of each of his motions. How he pulls your skirt up like he had earlier, how the air of the room is cool on your skin. 

You choke in a gasp when he takes the material of your underwear and tugs it up, revealing the bare skin of your ass when he pulls them tight; the pressure against your clit feels so good but it’s still not enough, even when you try to roll your hips forwards into the sensation. He clicks his tongue and then pulls them down instead, letting them settle at your knees, nothing better than a flimsy restraint.

“I want you to count them for me,” Jimin murmurs. He’s rubbing his hands over your skin, your lower back and ass and thighs, getting you ready; he swats your skin lightly a few times to get you prepared, each quick slap a glancing touch that quickly fades. “One to ten. Okay?”

“Okay.” Your voice is shakier than you thought it would be, so wound up and desperate for any sort of relief. Even though the light hits that he’s raining down on your skin fade almost instantly you can feel the coil tightening inside you, the anticipation building up, ready to burst.

The first real smack has you jolting in his lap. The pain quickly fades into pleasure and you clench your hands as the sensation rolls through you. “One,” you count as Jimin rubs his palm over your skin, soothing it.

The next smack is on your other buttock, Jimin’s flat palm leaving a stinging sensation against your skin that tingles outwards and into your core. “T-two.”

You continue to count out each smack. Jimin varies the intensity and speed of them, alternating between caressing your skin or squeezing the flesh of your ass between each one; you can never anticipate how he’s going to move, each slap against your skin a sharp pain that instantly melts into pleasure, sensation dulling and spreading into a tingling sting that settles into you.

By the time you’re ready for the last hit you’re almost sobbing with pleasure, trying your best not to squirm in his lap, trying not to think about how much you’re dripping. Jimin dips his fingers lower, glancing over your sodden folds, and you gasp out loud at the teasing, desperate for more.

“One more.” Jimin’s voice is low. “You’re doing so, so well, baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and then his hand is coming down against the swell of your ass for the final time. “Ten,” you gasp.

Jimin’s hands are all over you, stroking you, praising you with his words and touch. He turns your head towards him so he can crane forwards and kiss you. It’s an awkward position but you can’t help but lean into the kiss, the first time his lips have touched yours tonight, ample reward after the punishment you’d just taken.

“Did so well,” he praises. “How are you doing, baby?”

His hands are rubbing over your sore flesh. Your skin stings but the ache isn’t bad, although you can’t help but think that you’re not going to want to put any pressure on your ass any time soon. “I’m good,” you say. “So good. Thank you, Jiminie.”

He lets out a tinkling little laugh. “Thanking me for a punishment, sweet thing?”

You feel loose and relaxed, limp in Jimin’s lap, all the endorphins from the spanking running through your veins. “I deserved it,” you sigh.

Your head is turned to one side so you can glance at Jimin, though the angle still prevents you from seeing anything in any sort of detail—so you’re caught completely off guard when he pushes a finger into you, your lower lips parting so easily for him, and you let out a reedy cry when he presses another one in when he realises you can take it.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Jimin breathes, and you writhe as he presses in deeper, his pretty little fingers sinking so easily into your greedy cunt. You can’t spread your legs properly with how your underwear is hooked around your knees and you feel so tight around his fingers, especially when he presses a third one in, the slight burn fading so quickly into pleasure. “Oh, just look at you.”

The slick sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you is lewd. You’re so, so wet, only growing wetter as he continues to move his hand; he doesn’t touch your clit and when you try to rock against his thighs he uses his other hand to hold you still, splaying his fingers over the heated flesh of your ass. 

He knows how hard you find it to cum without any stimulation to your clit and doesn’t touch you where you’re desperate to be touched, focusing on turning you into a quivering, needy mess in his lap. Your skin feels overheated and your nipples are hard in the cups of your bra, almost painful, and you’re so, so hungry for your release.

“Jimin, please,” you sob. “Please, please—”

He pulls all of his fingers out of you all at once. Tears of frustration spring to your eyes and you kick your feet as you clench and unclench your hands, but then Jimin is guiding you off his lap, putting his hands around your waist to move you. His hands are quick and fast as they tug your skirt down your legs, though he’s still careful to ease the waistband over the curve of your hips and ass, avoiding the stinging skin. You feel the lace of your top rip as you both hastily pull it off, but you really don’t give a shit, fumbling for the clasp of your bra as soon as you can; you’re naked and needy in front of a fully-clothed Jimin, who’s looking at you with hooded eyes as he stands.

Normally you take the time to touch him, feel his soft skin under your hands and lips, tease him and work him up with his cock in your mouth, but tonight it seems like he’s too impatient to wait. When you reach out for him he takes hold of your wrists, his grasp gentle but firm, and he guides you into the position he wants— knees on the sofa, hands braced against the backrest, looking over your shoulder so you can drink him in as he gets undressed.

First, that beautiful embellished bomber of his, carelessly cast to one side. Next, the shirt, tugged out of the tight loop of his belt and pulled over his head, revealing his beautiful chest and stomach, the tattoos you’ve grown familiar with still beautiful as ever on his skin. The belt, unbuckled, leather trousers shoved down and kicked aside, and then he pulls his socks off and he’s finally, finally done. He looks so beautiful like this, naked save for the jewellery on his body— the chain around his neck, the bracelets at his wrists, the rings on his left hand, and of course, the simple, silver hoops in his ears.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you breathe. 

Jimin’s expression is clouded with lust but you can see how his eyes go soft at your reverent tone, and he bends forwards to catch your mouth against his again; it’s deep and slow but messy, sloppy with the desperation you have for each other. “You’re gorgeous too,” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile, leaning into him. “My pretty baby.”

One of his hands settles at the curve of your waist, and the other grips his cock, ready to press into you. You’re almost shivering, so, so ready for him, entire body on edge; you choke in a gasp when you feel his cockhead brush against your folds, the slide so wet and easy. You feel how you part for him once he breaches you, your inner walls opening for his familiar hardness, pulling him in deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

The skin of your ass stings where he’s pressed against it, but it’s just another sensation on top of the pleasure singing through you, settling in your lower belly and between your legs. Jimin wastes no time and starts to snap his hips forwards, one hand at your waist and the other at your shoulder to give him leverage to drive into you, curving your spine as you struggle to hold yourself up— the slap of his skin against yours and the wet sounds of his cock breaching your cunt is almost deafening, but then he leans forward to hook his arm around you, taking his fingers and rubbing tight, quick circles on your clit, fingers still wet from where they’d been sunk into you before.

The noise you make when you finally cum drowns out the other sounds that have been filling the room. You cum so hard your legs shake and you slump forwards, thighs trembling as you fold your weight into your arms, ripples of pleasure skating through you from your dripping cunt, still stuffed full of Jimin’s hot cock.

Jimin slows his thrusts, though he’s still pumping in and out of you, aftershocks trembling through your body from your orgasm. He puts a hand in your hair and tugs, pulling you against him, the skin of your back pressed against his chest. “Is my baby still feeling needy, hm?”

You nod your head, still grinding back against him, chasing the pleasure of his cock shifting inside you and the ache of your stinging skin dragging against his hipbones. “Yes,” you say, breathless. “Yes, need more.”

Jimin laughs, a triumphant little sound. You’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how shameless you’re being right now. “I knew it,” he says. “Greedy little cockslut, aren’t you?”

You clench around him, swallowing down a moan. “Only for you, Jiminie.”

“No one else is ever going to be good enough, are they?” He circles his hips and you shudder against him at the feeling, how his cock drags against your inner walls. “No one else knows how to please my baby like I do, do they?”

“No,” you agree. “No, no one else, only you— oh—”

Jimin stays inside you as he turns you around, hands firm around your waist as he sits down and pulls you with him, seating you in his lap. You lean back against him, rolling your hips and arching your spine when he cups your breasts in his hands, kissing down the length of your neck before sucking marks into your skin. Once it seems like he’s satisfied with how clearly he’s marked you as being taken, as being his, he starts to bounce you in his lap, thick thighs cushioning your fall each time you drive your hips back down.

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” His fingers are digging so firmly into your hips now that you wonder if it’ll bruise, but you can’t help but want it, want more reminders that you’re his. Reminders of his touch. “Can you give me one more?”

“Y-yes,” you hiccup, breath driven out of you with one particularly hard rock of Jimin’s hips. “Wanna come with you, Jimin.”

You can tell when Jimin’s close to his release. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know—you can picture the sweat in his hair, the set of his brows and the curve of his mouth as he moans. You know the cadence of his gasps, how the motions of his hips start to speed and go off rhythm; you know exactly when to let your hand fall between your legs, rubbing at your clit so that you can cum with Jimin, your entire body wound up and ready to tumble off the edge with him. He puts his hand over yours, pressing the pads of your fingers down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves as your fingers grow slick with your wetness, and you’re gone.

You hit your peak with a breathless, wanton cry, throwing your head back against Jimin’s shoulder as your toes curl and you cum again. You’re swept up in the sensation of pleasure washing through your body when you feel how Jimin shudders underneath and inside you, how your cunt is still clenching as his cock twitches, as he empties himself into you. You’ve never cum the same time as someone before. It’s almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him, drawing it deeper inside you with each wave of sensation that ripples through your core, and you slump back against him, your chests heaving as you both ride out your highs; the tremors slowly subside as Jimin strokes his hands over your skin, and you twist your head so you can kiss each other slowly, lazily pressing your lips together as you catch your breaths, pleasure from your orgasms settling into every inch of your bodies.

“My pretty baby,” Jimin says, quiet and sweet against your mouth. You smile and rub your nose against his, pressing a swift kiss to the swell of his cupid’s bow.

“All yours,” you say, leaning into the tight embrace that Jimin wraps you in.

You feel blissful and fucked out, lying on your side on the sofa to save putting pressure on your still sore ass, watching Jimin as he moves around the room. He gathers up your clothes and you see how he pauses when he reaches your boots. It’s like you both remember all at once what lead you to this moment, and you see how Jimin turns his head to you with a question on his lips—he knows you well enough to know that everything you do is thought out and measured and that there would have been a reason that you were dressed so provocatively. You wouldn’t have done it on a whim, just because you felt like it.

“Y/n,” he says, and you look away from him, suddenly embarrassed. Every touch tonight has cemented the fact that Jimin cares about you and gives you time and attention, so now you just feel like some sort of dumb petulant child who was being greedy—you didn’t think you were monopolising Jimin’s time, but you obviously are. “Why—”

“You kept saying you were busy,” you interrupt, though you keep your eyes off him, staring up at the ceiling instead. “I was just—I was just feeling neglected and I wanted you to look at me. I wasn’t trying to get anyone else’s attention, I just wanted you to want to spend time with me, because you’ve been so busy recently and you won’t tell me why,” you finish, your voice quiet. You feel silly even as the final words come out.

“Oh, sweet thing.” Jimin’s voice is warm and gentle. You glance away from the ceiling to see him carefully setting all the clothes and mess to one side, heedless of the tangle of expensive clothing, and he crouches by the sofa to cup your face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, nuzzling into his lovely hands, into the now-familiar sensation of his fingers against your cheeks. “I was just being greedy.”

“No, you weren’t, you’re right.” His hair is mussed and his eyeshadow is smudged, as is yours, the two of you vulnerable with each other in ways you never are with anyone else. His eyes are soft and his face is open as he dips down to kiss your forehead, brushing the loose hair away from your face. “I have been very busy and I’ve been unfair by not telling you why.”

“You don’t have to,” you insist, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he says. “Hold on.”

You watch him leave the room and pad down the hallway, past Yoongi’s bedroom and into his own, and you sit up when you see him reappear with a small collection of papers, print-outs that you try to catch a glimpse of before he spreads them on the coffee table for you to see.

“I’ve been going on apartment viewings,” he says. “I was trying to work out which place was best. What’s in our budget, where’s between my work and your garage—I’ve been trying to narrow it down.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s smiling at you in that way of his that you love so much, the one that squeezes his eyes and lets you see his crooked front tooth—the smile that drives home that Jimin is flawlessly flawed, perfect with his imperfections, overwhelming in his beauty.

“Jimin,” you breathe. “You want to move in with me?”

“More than anything,” he says. “I thought it would be nice if you didn’t have to worry about anything because I would have already done all the legwork. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your face crumples. You don’t mean to, but you can feel tears welling in your eyes; Jimin moves instantly, pulling you close to him as you try to swallow down the sudden rush of emotion, overwhelmed. You’re both still naked, your skin pressed against his as he holds you, but there’s no lust behind this touch—it’s all love and affection and you still can’t believe that Park Jimin is yours. You’ve never felt so lucky in all your life.

“You should have told me,” you sniffle. “Apartment viewings suck. I could have helped.”

Jimin laughs, a light giggle that ends up muffled against your scalp when he noses into your hair. “That would have defeated the purpose of the surprise, sweet thing,” he says. He pulls back so he can look at you, and just like when he’d seen you cry before, there’s no judgement on his face—just warm empathy and fondness. “They do suck, though. It’s taken so much longer than I thought. I never meant to make you feel neglected.”

“I was being stupid.” You huff out a breath into his face. “Like—okay, sure, maybe you weren’t spending as much time with me as you normally do, but you weren’t neglecting me. I just got so used to having you whenever I wanted you.”

Jimin smiles. He keeps hold of you, pulled close in his embrace, and you know then that you’re never going to let Park Jimin go. “When we move in, you will,” he says, and you shiver at the promise of future pleasure—not just sex, but closeness, intimacy, a promise to one another that this is going to become more.

But, like, also the sex, too.

God, Jimin is so gorgeous.

You let Jimin thumb your small tears away. You hate crying in front of anyone, hate feeling weak, but Jimin never judges you. He makes you feel safe, like you can be open with him, and you know he’ll never betray your trust. You press a kiss to his Adam’s apple before you peer at the printed sheets on the coffee table, wanting to see the fruits of his labour. “So are these the ones you’ve narrowed it down to?” Your eyes flicker over the pages. “Take me through them.”

You end up curled in his lap, looking through each of his choices together—and hey, if you get distracted by each other halfway through the selection, who can blame you?

---

TAGLIST: @beyoncesdragon​ 

[worldwidemochiguy]

Coming Back Home (Yandere! Taehyung)

➵ Two years after you left Taehyung, you call him from an empty hotel room feeling lonely. 

➵ Warnings: Yandere Taehyung, Idealisation of Yandere Behaviour, reader is messed up lmao, Stockholm Syndrome big time, basically what happens if someone leaves their captor and then does not recover from SS

➵ Word Count: 1.4K

➵ Masterlist 

➵ a/n: this is dedicated to @kpopyandere​ who left a rly nice reply under a post where i was whining abt not being able to write this fic lol. you motivated me to keep going and make this! <3  it’s not perfect but like also it’s not awful (i hope)

also tysm for 1.5k!!! 💜💜💜💜

You bit your lip, thumb hovering over the number you knew you should’ve deleted so long ago.

Two years. It had been two years since you last saw Taehyung. Would he even remember you? Would he even care? Probably not, you thought. So what’s the harm so calling him, just to see how he’s been doing?

Except you knew it wouldn’t be just a call. You knew that Taehyung’s obsessive tendencies were not the kind of thing to mellow out over the years. You knew you had gotten a lucky break, and if you hadn’t run away all those years ago then maybe you would still be with him. Trapped.

But at least you felt safe then. At least you felt needed. Unlike now, sitting in a hotel room with a half-empty suitcase and a heart filled with broken promises. 

It’s remarkable how much can be reversed with the simple press of a button. 

The ringtone sounded morbid in the room, accompanied only by the distant noises of traffic on the streets below. It felt strange, you had never had to wait on a call with Taehyung before. He used to answer you straight away.

“Hello. Who is this?”

His sharp voice — much harsher than you remembered, but maybe that was just your memory softening over the painful edges — drew all the breath out of you in a quick exhale. You suddenly forgot how to speak. 

“Who is this?” He repeated. Of course, he didn’t recognise your number. You had bought a new phone. You had bought a new everything, not wanting any trace of him once you’d escaped. And yet, still, you transferred his number to your contacts list, a shameful action you knew you would regret even as you typed in the digits. 

You had been silent on the line for almost a minute now, waiting with bated breath for the moment he would lose patience and hang up. You predicted it would happen any second now, Taehyung was never the most patient man.

Except when he was with you.

But he still hadn’t hung up, and you listened to the sound of his silence intently, imagining Taehyung standing somewhere in his office, holding a phone up to his face and waiting, wearing that furrowed expression he always had when he was frustrated.

But he didn’t sound frustrated, not when you heard a hopeful inhale, and then a tentative whisper.

“…Princess?”

That endearment— you hadn’t heard it in so long, and you didn’t realise how much you missed it — it broke the distance you had gone to such lengths to ensure. 

“Taehyung,” You sobbed, finally finding your voice and using it to wail his name, a name you hadn’t allowed yourself to even think of for six months after you had left him. You heard a flurry of clicks, probably Taehyung tracking your location through the call, and for once you just didn’t care, you wanted him to come to you soon. 

“I’m here, Princess.” Taehyung panted, and it sounded like he had started running, “I’m right here, don’t worry.”

“I-” Now you had started crying, you couldn’t seem to stop, fat tears sliding down your cheeks as you, for the first time in two years, knew without a doubt that someone was coming to rescue you. He was running, that’s how desperate he was to reach you. 

“I’m in Seoul.” You choked out, “I’m on the same street as our old apartment. In a hotel.” 

“Good girl,” You imagined Taehyung’s long fingers carding through your hair like they used to whenever you were distressed, and felt a little bit better. “I’m coming right from the office, baby. I’ll be there so soon, and then we can both go home. God, I’ve been waiting for you to come back for so long.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end of his statement. Your heart felt like it cracked in a similar way. 

“I’m sorry,” You gasped, the sincerity of it pressing out of your skin. It felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Your lungs were still working, expanding and contracting mechanically, but there was no air left in the room. It had disappeared two years ago, along with Taehyung and your apartment and everything you had known for so long. 

And even Jongin, who had taken you away from it all, and in return, promised to give you safety, was gone. 

You’re too clingy, he said when you had panicked over him leaving you alone for too long, you’re too dependant, he said when you didn’t want to go outside, I don’t love you, he said, two years after he had drawn you away from Taehyung. 

In the end, all Jongin led you to was an empty hotel room, with a broken heart, and an outgoing phone call to the very person he vowed to protect you from. 

“Come quickly,” You whimpered to Taehyung, and you heard crackling noises out of the receiver that vaguely registered as the soft hushes Taehyung would always comfort you with. 

“I’m coming, I’ll be there so soon, Princess, I promise. I’m so proud of you, this must have taken a lot of bravery and I’m glad you finally decided to listen to what your heart already knew.”

“I’m sorry,” You said again, because you barely knew how to say anything else. “I’ll never leave again, I’m so sorry, just, please, come and get me soon.” 

“I’m at the hotel, Princess.” Taehyung told you, and then you heard other voices and a muffled shouting. 

Taehyung didn’t say anything else. You sat on the bed clutching the phone to your ear, waiting for his voice, an update, anything… 

What if he decided you weren’t worth it? 

“Princess, it’s me.” 

Taehyung’s voice waited on the other side of the door. You froze. Hearing it in person was different to hearing it over the phone. Hearing it in person was… it brought back so many memories. Lying on his lap while he fed you chocolates. Crying onto his shoulder. Pain. Quiet reprimands and hushed apologies. Pain. Pain. Pain. 

Fear. 

But never loneliness. 

And you were so achingly, helplessly alone without him.

“Stand back, Princess. I’m going to break the door down.” Taehyung warned. You watched as the lock buckled underneath the force of his kick. And you saw him for the first time in two years, frantic and determined. 

His eyes found you before the door even had time to bounce back against the splintered frame. 

“Princess,” His voice was hoarse, the word sounding like a prayer on his lips. That was all it took for you to shoot up and fling yourself across the room, trusting that he would catch you. He would always catch you in the end.

He cradled you in his arms like something precious, raining kisses down on everything he could reach, your head, your cheeks, your lips, your neck, your lips, your lips, your lips. Kissing Taehyung felt like falling into a daydream — one which had already been experienced, but still carried the same sweet, addictive taste. 

“Princess,” he murmured, leaning away from the kiss slightly to do so and you let loose a displeased whine, chasing back to fit his lips against yours once more. He smiled, breaking the kiss and resting your foreheads together, sharing breathless pants in the space between your matching grins. 

“I…” He trailed off, eyes shining with the weight of all the constellations in the sky. 

“What?” You whispered. 

He smiled, slow and sweet. “You have made me speechless.” He eventually said. “I’m just… so happy.” 

Taehyung always had the habit of saying things you didn’t know how to respond to. You couldn’t help but gaze at him, taking in all the slight changes two years had caused. 

He had a new scar above his eyebrow. He was paler. He had lost some weight. It had carved itself out of his cheeks, leaving behind a more hollow replication of the bread cheeks you used to kiss every morning. Jongin had never cared that much about cheek kisses. He didn’t value small shows of affection the way Taehyung did. The way you did. 

You leaned in and kissed Taehyung on the forehead, right above the unfamiliar scar. When you pulled back, you realised that the way Taehyung looked at you was one of the things that had not changed at all. 

For the first time in two years, you knew that you weren’t alone. Not anymore. And you never would be again. 

“Let’s go home.” 

[killjoysfromyesterday]

all her skies are yellow

new drabble! wrote this during english today. not proofread whatsoever but it’s 10pm pls cut me some slack lmao

summary: set a few months after sing, jet survived.

content warning: slight su*cidal ideation, bl**d, raygun usage

word count: 2,176

"you let us die. why were you the only one to get out? you're a monster, jet." jet can imagine the way kobra's lips turn up into a snarl with his words, the same way he'd talk to dracs during claps, and jet recoils.

jet can't even get in a word to kobra because poison's stepping up, footsteps always so hard, and once again he can see it in his head: poison's eyes always lighted with fury that almost matches the cherry red of their hair.

"you think you're brave? that you're a killjoy like we were? you can't even see anymore." their voice is cruel and jet's heart is going rabbit-fast in his chest, he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out.

"it's all dark, isn't it? that's what you deserve." ghoul pipes up. jet can't help but agree.

and then there's soft footsteps around him, and he braces because he expects to be kicked, but then somebody's got a hand hooked under his jaw to force him to look up. of course, he can't see who it is, but their presence feels familiar. too familiar.

"you're nothing." the voice says, words light as feathers but hitting jet like a ton of bricks.

ma.

the hand on his face is snatched away, and he barely manages to catch himself with his hands and avoid faceplanting onto the ground below him.

there's a cold barrel of a ray gun pressed between his eyes. he knows it's her, because he can hear the far-off cackles of ghoul and the venom siblings.

his ma is going to kill him. he disappoints her that much. he wants to talk, wants to beg for his life, but he can't. the words are stuck in his throat. why would he beg? it's not like he's got any purpose here any more. the girl's got pony, doc, and cherri; she's in good hands. he only weighs them down, hiding away in the shadows and never leaving his room. he's another mouth to feed, and he can't even fucking see now.

"you should've been a better son." she says, voice just like he remembers it as a kid when she sang him to sleep, except now it's nothing but knives that cut straight through and lodge so deep he thinks her words are just enough to kill him. he wants her to just shoot, he doesn't want to think about it anymore. he hopes the witch has room for him.

except she doesn't shoot, just rears back the barrel of the gun and hits him between the eyes so hard that the blackness of his vision fuzzes and spins before he jolts awake with a start, still in his bed at the station.

he's gasping for air, hands flying up to his throat because it feels like his lungs are simultaneously working double time and not working at all, he's getting lightheaded and there's alarms going off in his head.

it's all so loud, he needs it all to stop. he can't think, it's so, so loud, he can hear his blood rushing in his ears. his ma's voice is playing over and over in his head, he can't, he just needs it all to shut up, he-

"you're nothing." her voice repeats like she's standing right there next to him, and he falls off the mattress trying to flinch away from her. he's scooting back, the noises of things falling and breaking with his scared movements are so loud. something falls and he whimpers, clamping his hands over his ears.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i don't know, i'm s-"  he's choking, coughing and sputtering and he thinks he's dying. maybe this is how he's supposed to go, the witch just kept him alive for longer than the others as a cruel mockery. she's gonna come and take him away any minute.

poison's talking again, and it's drowned out by ghoul's cackling and kobra's snarling. he's got his legs curled to his chest, and he buries his head between his knees.

he wraps his arms around his torso protectively, trembling so hard he can barely keep himself backed into the corner. his shirt feels wet, and he knows he's most likely torn a few of the stitches on his chest. the stitches over the raygun blast that nearly killed him that night. he wishes it had.

he can still feel the hood of the car, he's staring up at the city sky, thinking the witch was gonna take him. no, instead she had just frowned at him in his dreams and swiped her hand over his face, and the sight in his working eye was no more.

now he's sniffling, arms wrapped around himself so tight he can feel his ribs. he needs to eat. that's what doc tells him. maybe doc would agree with his mom, he's a failure. who would willingly parent such a wreck?

he's twenty-three, he's lived in the desert his whole life. he should be able to process death by now. but instead, he's hiding and shaking like a stray dog. witch, the blood is seeping through his shirt now and onto his hands.

the words of his ma and the others hit a crescendo and he digs his nails into his face, hands clapped over his eyes. he wants to hide. he knows he's probably getting blood all over himself, but better that it's his own than someone else's. he's had too much blood of others on his hands, both figuratively and literally.

he can hear other voices, there's footsteps out in the hall and he knows they're looking for him. shit, he woke them up. he just hopes the girl hasn't woken up.

the door creaks open and he cringes, and little footsteps patter across the floor. well, that question is answered. he grimaces.

"found him!" the girl shouts back in the direction of the hallway.

"you should go back and rest." cherri's voice is hoarse with sleep. it makes jet feel a million times worse.

"but-" she asks, voice trailing off.

"girly. go on." doc says. he sounds the same, he's likely been up for hours. he almost never sleeps anymore. the girl huffs but her footsteps disappear down the hallway and jet assumes she's gone back to her room.

"you opened your stitches." cherri says. he's closer now, his voice is soft. jet doesn't answer, and when cherri goes to touch his arm, jet's hands tear away from his face and he curls himself closer into the corner.

"oh, jet..." pony's voice is behind cherri now, soft and sympathetic. jet wraps his arms back around his torso, fingers digging so hard into his sides he knows he's gonna have bruises. it's the only thing grounding him right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" he's rambling again.

"sorry for what, tumbleweed?" doc asks. doc hasn't called him that since he was a kid. it just makes jet feel even worse.

jet doesn't know how to answer him, doesn't know how to tell him he's sorry because he lived and they didn't. so instead he just shakes his head and digs his nails even further into his ribs.

he doesn't know how to tell doc that he feels so alone, that his bedroom feels like a prison and he thinks he'd be better off with his mask in the mailbox.

doc always tells him the girl needs him now more than ever, but jet has a hard time believing him. jet can't even see her anymore, her smile has been replaced by the permanent black fuzziness that is his vision now.

poison and kobra are yelling in his ears again, and ghoul sneers so sharply it makes his head hurt. he just wants it to stop. his ma was right. he's nothing.

why did he have to be the one to get out that night? and not the others? poison is- no, was (it hurts to correct himself) poison was a natural born leader, kobra was a genius, and ghoul had so much spirit.

who was he? just the damaged, desertborn kid they hauled around with them? the fact that he made it out was a sick joke.

witch, it's all too much. he's gonna be sick.

"c'mon, let's get you cleaned up." cherri says. jet doesn't want to get up, he just wants to be left alone, but he still stands up on shaky legs and follows cherri to the bathroom.

jet slides onto the edge of the tub, hands gripping onto the sides harder than necessary. cherri's turned the sink on, jet can hear the water running.

"look up." cherri says, and jet tilts his head up so cherri can swipe a washcloth across the scarred mess that is his eyes to wash away the blood that smeared from his chest to his hands and ultimately onto his face when he was panicking. it reminds him entirely too much of the encounter with his ma in his nightmare, and he resists the overwhelming urge to pull away.

"jet, i'm sure you can understand why we're worried." cherri says. his way of enunuciating every syllable is odd to jet, city kids in general are weird, but kobra and poison never had the poshness in their voice like cherri does. it doesn't match cherri, jet thinks.

"these nightmares are getting worse. you're not eating too well, either. you of all people should know how important food is." cherri says.

jet knows that cherri didn't mean it that way, but his words felt like a jab at the fact jet was homeless as a kid. jet just clenches his jaw as he hears cherri put the washcloth away. cherri turns back to him, sitting on the edge of the tub next to him.

"what's really going on?" cherri asks. and then the words are tumbling out of jet's mouth before he can stop them and shove them back in, permanently bottled up in the pit of his stomach.

"i'm a monster. it's my fault, isn't it?" jet asks quietly. the question's been weighing in his head for so long that it feels strange to speak it out loud.

"what?" cherri asks.

"it's my fault they're gone."

"jet." cherri's voice sounds firmer than before.

"no, it's true. please don't try to-"

"jet, you're not a monster. you're like a little brother to me. the others were too. and doc? doc can't handle losing you too. he's already gone a little funny in the head, he's asking where kobra and ghoul are constantly. the girl, she's..."

"she's fine without me." jet interrupts, voice small.

"you have no clue." cherri sighs.

"what?"

"she's not okay without you. she's so scared, jet. pony dropped a pan yesterday and she ran like a bat out of hell. she thought it was a raygun blast." cherri says.

"she misses you so much. you know, she still sets aside the blue crayons for you when she colors. all her skies are yellow now.” cherri chuckles sadly. jet can imagine it in his head, and it makes him too damn sad to think about it for long. the girl setting aside his favorite color for him, and he's barely left his room since they both came back.

"i'd just scare her now." jet mutters. the texture of his face is enough to tell him he doesn't look the same. the gnarled scars covering his face are mostly healed now. sure, he's been missing his right eye since before the girl was born, but it wasn't as bad. she grew up knowing the singular, thin scar across the bridge of jet's nose. what she doesn't know nearly as well is the raygun blast scars from that night, the ones that hit him before the final shot to his chest that sent him back against the hood of the trans am.

"i know you think you're doing the best thing for her by staying away, but she needs you, jet. now more than ever."

"you're slipping, jet. we don't want to lose you too. the girl can't handle losing you." cherri says, and his voice sounds suspiciously tearful.

"you won't."

"then promise me. promise me things will change and we won't have to have this same conversation in a month." cherri's practically begging now. jet doesn't answer.

he can't.

they've had this exchange before, and nothing changed. he can't promise to cherri that things will change this time either, because witch, it's so easy to just hide away. it's so easy to curl up in his bed and think about what could've been. it's so easy to sit there until the grief washes over him like a wave and he's practically drowning himself to feel past the ebbing and flowing numbness that settles in his bones now.

"if you're not gonna do it for me, do it for her. please, jet." cherri pleads, but jet barely hears him because he's thinking about the girl drawing pictures with yellow skies.

"i promise.”

[domesticmail]

scrapes

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: fuck if i know lmao

requested: nope!

summary: idk how i’d explain this one. reader is frustrated that the pogues keep treating her like a baby, so she takes things into her own hands, and when she gets hurt, things come to a head in the kitchen of The Chateau

warnings: ANGST. cursing, blood, and ANGST BABY ANGST

a/n: starts quick, gets sad/angry, ends content and kinda happy! also for reference the Pogues are all 17 and the reader is 16 here!! might make this a multiple part fic, who knows !!

Your feet hit the ground, rubber soles slamming against pavement. Broken pieces of road and rubble crunch under your feet. The sound of pebbles cracking under your weight is lost in the commotion of noises, your heart throwing itself against your ribcage, the friction of your hand sliding against a wall, cold air blowing in and out of your lungs.

Splinters embed in your skin as you scramble up the fence, wood cutting into the meat of your thigh. As your body hits the dirt, you swear you can feel the wound opening, blood painting the ground. A ringing fills your ears, but there’s not room in your schedule today to worry about that - you’re on a bit of a time constraint here, if you hadn’t noticed. With that in your mind, the panic of falling behind floods your veins, and you’re up again, sneakers throwing dirt and rocks in your wake as you high-tail it away from your bad decision.

Shouts come from behind you, telling you to stop, but clearly they haven’t gotten the message: you’re not sticking around. You round the corner and haul ass down a few twists and turns before finding your final destination, a friend’s house. You burst through the front entrance and slam it shut, leaning back against the front door, chest heaving.

John B. raises an eyebrow at you. “Woah. Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t respond - you’re busy doing that mental-checklist thing you always do.

Shoes? Ratty old converse, several years old, scuffed on the sides - but they were like that before. Check.

Cut on your leg? Not too big, hurts like a bitch, though. Can be fixed with a towel, rubbing alcohol, and some pressure. Check.

Any other cuts? Some splinters in your palms, yes, but nothing else major. Thank fuck.

A pat of your back pocket reveals that your wallet is still there, secure. Your earrings - still there. Phew. Necklace didn’t break or fall off when you hopped the fence? It’s still dangling around your neck, holy shit. Check. 

Aside from the cut and some flecks of dirt dug into the arm you landed on, you’re in remarkably good shape for someone running from hired security.

You shoot a grin at John B., who’s now been joined in his confusion by the rest of the group: Kie and Sarah looking worried, Pope looking exasperated and mildly concerned, and JJ looking very, very confused. Walking past them to the kitchen, you start rooting around for supplies to clean up your leg. Nobody’s said anything yet, and you know why. It’s not common for you to come home like this, out of breath, roughed up a little, bleeding. You can feel them holding their tongues, waiting for you to explain.

The silence stretches into uncomfortable territory. You’re too busy trying to fix your cut to care, really. You know what comes next, anyway - you’ve seen them do it to JJ about a thousand times. The quiet, palpable tension of concern, and then the inevitable eruption.

Just as you expect, as soon as you hop up on the counter and begin your at-home wound treatment, showing no signs of speaking first, everyone explodes at once.

John B. “So no explanation? You’re just gonna walk in here like this is normal?”

Kie. “What the hell, Y/N? We didn’t know where you were! You could’ve died!”

Pope. “That’s a huge cut, what is wrong with you? What were you doing that was so stupid you got a cut like that?”

Sarah. “We were so worried! You weren’t picking up! Are you okay?”

And, of course, JJ. “Who did this to you?”

You’re applying pressure to your leg (fuck, fuck, ow, fuck, shit, bitch, motherfucker no thank you, ow), listening to your friends voice their concerns, when something hits you - JJ thinks someone hurt you?

More importantly, why is JJ so angry about it?

You’d been expecting him to be the least concerned, to give you a high five or a compliment or at least a proud grin, but no, you’re facing anger, frustration, radiating off of him. This is unprecedented - you never thought you guys were close like that.

Don’t get it wrong, you’re close with all the Pogues, just as family as the rest of them - JJ just isn’t really your person. You tend to be glued to Sarah and Kie at the hips, tagging along with them when it’s not a whole-group outing, so their worry makes sense. (You usually tell them everything, like sisters, but a two-day long excursion to do some very reckless shit hadn’t felt like something you should tell them. They’d just try to convince you not to go, and you were having none of that, two mornings ago.) But JJ? If anything, you were each other’s least favorite Pogues. The youngest and maybe the most reckless of the group (excluding Pope), you’re typically the one who reminds JJ of all the stuff that can go wrong with his ideas and schemes. You would think he’d be glad to see you get into a bit of trouble.

But there he is, jaw clenched, those eyes fixed directly on yours. His neck’s gone all tight (you’ve been around him long enough to know that only happens when he’s angry; it’s a little endearing, actually, a little cute), the hand not placed protectively on your knee clenching into a fist laid on the counter. And there’s something in that touch, the way he’s got his hand on your knee - there’s affection there, emotion, something you’ve never felt from JJ before.

All of a sudden, it’s like the greatest hyperfixation in the world is JJ’s hands. They’re not soft, necessarily, not the type of hand you want to hold just because it feels like it’s gentle and kind. Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to this weird, unexpected touch. You can feel the callouses on his palm pressing into the pink, scraped (oh, you missed a spot in your checklist, your knees look wrecked from that fall over the fence; probably shouldn’t do that again) flesh of your knee, the pads of his fingertips pulling your attention away from the group and to him.

To put it lightly: it’s a very intimate three seconds.

You want to disappear for a second, want to vanish in a puff of smoke and not exist, because the intensity with which he’s looking at you is scary. Not like you’ve done something wrong, but like whoever he thinks did this to you is going to pay, and pay a hefty fee at that.

You don’t like it. Not at all. You would do anything - anything - for him to never look at you like that. Like he’s going to kill someone.

“What - Nobody did this to me, JJ,” you scoff, matching his intense gaze with an annoyed look. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re covering up for them. What did they say they’d do to you? I’ll do worse to them, Y/N, I swear, just tell me who did it.”

You scowl at him, scooting over to move your knee from his hand. This isn’t about you and JJ - this is about you wanting to prove yourself. This is about you showing them you’re not a baby. That you can handle yourself. Not that you need JJ to get all weird and protective over you. “I did this, JJ, back off. I don’t need you to be weird about it.”

The rest of the group has been quiet, but John B. pipes up. “He’s not being weird about anything. We were all worried.”

“I don’t need you guys to be worried about me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine, you have a fucking cut on your leg - “

“I’m fine, JJ - “

“If you were okay you wouldn’t be fucking bleeding, Y/N - “

“Will you stop acting like I’m a child for two seconds? Nobody did this, it wasn’t Topper or Rafe or - “

It’s like a lightbulb goes on in JJ’s head. “It was Rafe, wasn’t it? I’ll fucking kill him, he has no right to put his hands on you - “

“JJ, shut the fuck up!”

He looks at you in stunned silence, leaning back a little as though your words had physically struck him. 

You’re fuming now, blood running hot. This is exactly why you didn’t tell them your plan - they’d start with this shit. The constant babying. You understand, they’re seventeen, you’re sixteen, you’re younger and they want to protect you, but jesus christ, it’s not like they had some worldly experience - they’re seventeen years old, for fuck’s sake. “Don’t use my actions as a reason for you to go beat up Rafe, JJ. I’m not a fucking excuse for you to get in a fight. I did this for a reason, so how about you leave me alone and let me get to it instead of acting like I’m a fucking child?”

Everyone is silent.

The group looks actually stunned, like they’ve all been sucker-punched. Where the hell did this come from? You’ve never yelled like that. You’ve never yelled, period. You’re never the angry one - you’re the quiet one, the one who would rather be helping at The Wreck or on the HMS Pogue than be at the Boneyard at a kegger. 

JJ, after the initial shock, looks even angrier now. He pulls away from you and storms off, running a hand through his blond hair. The sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor echoes through The Chateau, and you sit on the counter quietly, tears filling your eyes.

Not tears of sadness, though. You’re not sad.

You’re fucking angry. At all of them. For bringing you here. For pushing you to this point. For making you feel like a child. 

“You treat me like a kid,” you say quietly, but with force, scowling at your tears.

Sarah’s the first to approach, wrapping her arms around you softly. You want to push her away, to refuse the affection, but you don’t. You just accept the distance, reluctantly hugging her, resting your head on her shoulder and just breathing, breathing, breathing. Maybe the tears’ll go away if you just breathe.

Pope is the next, not Kie. (She’s still surprised that you yelled. The indignation of being yelled at is fading, her initial annoyance becoming gentle concern.) He envelops you and Sarah.

Kie joins next, and then John B., and it’s when you feel his hand on your back that your breathing, breathing, breathing, becomes choked sob after choked sob, cries wracking your body into Sarah’s shoulder. You feel like you’re breaking down into them all, like the anger is pouring out of you like a waterfall, just gushing and gushing and gushing. It’s so frustrating, so difficult, so annoying, you just can’t deal with it anymore.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying when your sobs recede their way to gentle hiccups. Your face is dry from the tears, and when everyone pulls away, you see tears in Sarah’s eyes. She offers you a weak smile, one you return.

There’s a conversation then, right there in the kitchen. It’s not one full of anger, or sadness, or anything especially negative. It’s just tired. The words float out of your mouth - “I’m sorry” - and it’s like you’re disconnected from yourself. It lasts maybe twenty minutes, apologizing from all ends, promises to do better, and at the end, you feel so full of love that you’re nearly bursting at the seams. We’re family, we love each other, you could’ve just told us if we were being frustrating, reassurances floating their way through your head like water, pushing out all the anger. 

You don’t know how you ended up on the hammock with the rest of the group - excluding JJ - one arm thrown across John B., snuggled in with Pope, legs resting on Sarah and Kie’s, who are laying together the opposite way. The warmth of the sun on your arms and your friends around you is lulling you to sleep slowly, the hammock swinging gently from side to side.

You know you’re going to have to talk to JJ.

But you’re falling asleep now, and you’re losing your train of thought quickly, words floating into oblivion.

You’ll talk to JJ tomorrow.

For now, you’re going to sleep.

[itstittycitybaby]

Flirty (Lin Beifong x reader) Part 5

a/n: brooooo. liinnnnnn. pulllll uuppppppp brooooo. kiss?? kiss for monty?? right here?? please?? also this took like. two fucking hours to write lmao. i just want that to be known.

Warnings: This is VERY angsty and sad. Proceed with caution.

You waved Opal off with the others as the airship left. It was sad having to see her go. You knew she’d do great training with the other airbenders. She was so sweet and clever. Opal seemed excited to join the other benders at the air temple. Even though you felt happy for her it didn’t stop the ping of jealousy in your heart. Maybe if you had finally become a bender your mother and father would’ve been proud of you. Maybe they would finally love you.

You glanced to your side. Lin stood next to you with her arms were crossed and and a frown on her face. She looked annoyed and tired. You snickered. “What are you laughing at?” You shook your head, grinning. “Nothing. Couldn’t help but realize how grumpy you are. Sad to see her go?” Lin scoffed. It seems like you were right. 

The sky was pink and purple as the sun set. The metal shields whirred to life, slowly covering the pretty sky. You watched them sadly as they closed in on one another. The sky was so beautiful at night. If only you could see it.

*****

The metal roof was cool underneath you. Azure was curled up in the collar of your turtle neck sleeping. Ruby pecked at the bird seed in your hands gently. The lights in Zaofu glowed softly, illuminating the streets. It was really a beautiful city.

Lin was more distant lately. She didn’t seem to pay any attention to you or care about the others. You knew that it’d happen eventually, but it still hurt. It made  the stone in your stomach roll more. It sunk heavily underneath the surface and jabbed at your heart. The anxiety of being abandoned still jostled and tore at your soul. It never seemed to go away. At this point you figured it never would.

 Thirty years was a long time. So much had happened in thirty years. A lot of loss and heartbreak had tore you down, leaving you on the ground defenseless. Even though life seemed to always strike you down you stilled waited. Waiting for a miracle to happen as you laid there reflecting. Now, it seemed like it was your chance. It didn’t matter how long it could take. You’d always wait for Lin.

She still held a fondness for you. Her eyes softened for a second once she saw you and she wasn’t as snarky. It was a start. As much as you wanted to kiss her face and hold her close, Lin needed time. She was impatient but you weren’t. The waiting game was something you were incredibly talented at. Thirty years of waiting you thought was the test. Now, it seemed like it was more of a test than ever. You glanced up at the covered sky. The stars had always comforted you before, it was a shame they were hidden now.

Ruby stilled in your hand, peering into the distance. “What is it Ruby,” you asked, jutting your head forward. Your eyes narrowed and your brows tugged together. Azure pecked you in the neck for waking him up. “Sorry drama queen, but you gotta go home!” Immediately, Azure flew out of your collar. You watched him go until he was out of sight. “Ruby, go fetch Lin! Bring her to me.” She sqwaked and flapped her wings. Grabbing your grappling hook, you aimed it at a crevice in the building in front of you. The button was smooth once you pressed it with the pad of your thumb. It shot out immediately making a soft swoosh sound. It clinked softly against the beam you aimed it at and swung you forward. Rotating your hips, you glided into the air. You wiggled slightly for better control and momentum. Your boots met the roof and your grappling hook quietly zipped back in place. Once you got to your destination,  you rolled onto the pavement with a soft thud. In the distance you could see them. Four people were creeping at a window. Korra.

****

“What,” Lin groaned, tugging her pillow over her head. Ruby shrieked and pecked at her fingers. She tried swatting at the bird but to no avail, Ruby wouldn’t let go. “Ow! Little shit. When I find them they’re gonna-”

Boom! Lin bolted up from her bed, flinging open her door she saw Mako and Bolin tumbling onto the pavement. Bang, Bang. Lin snapped her head. Speak of the devil.

There were two weapons clutched in your hands tightly. They were shooting out some weird metal pellets. You grunted as you swiftly dodged some sort of water arm. “Lin,” you shouted, “They’ve got Korra!” Lin broke into a sprint, guarding Mako and Bolin as they came back to their senses. Her scanned the area quickly and followed where you aimed. Four people stood in the middle of the court yard. There was a woman flailing her arms at anyone who dared to come closer, along with a lady that was creating explosions with her mind.

 Lin rose her fists and the metal around Korra’s attackers surrounded them. Your pellets hit the metal as soon as they came up. You cursed, taking cover behind a fallen pillar and loaded your pistols again. Suyin and her sons ran to you raising the rest of the metal around the attackers. All four of them were trapped.

“We have you surrounded it’s over!” Ruby landed on your shoulder as you trained your eyes on the target. “Good girl Rubes,” you whispered, stroking her softly. Suddenly, a rumbling noise shook the ground under you. Lava lazily slid out from the metal panes. “Lava bender,” you shouted, “Everyone, hop back!” You jumped back a few feet from the quickly pooling lava. The metal fell with a creak from the lava. It surrounded them, pushing you all fifteen feet away from Korra.

“No way. That guy’s lava bending! That’s awesome!..ly not good for us,” Bolin murmured. You stifled a laugh. Lin glared at you with her fists clenched. You shrugged in reply before getting back to the fight.

****

An explosion was sent your way for what felt like the twentieth time. You barely dodged it; the wind of it grazed your side. Ruby fluttered about, dodging their attacks swiftly. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be by your side or fly from the danger. You couldn’t blame her; you wished you were back on the metal roof and not having your joints aching like hell. Ducking, you behind a metal pane as soon as another explosion swept by. Your boots skidded onto the pavement. Ruby flew to your side immediately. “You’re doing great girl,” you comforted her. 

Lin, Mako, Bolin, and Asami joined you behind the metal cover. “What should we do,” Bolin cried as he and Mako started hurling fire and rocks at the attackers’ way. Asami crouched in nothing but her nightgown. “Hey Asami?” “Yea?” You handed her one of your daggers. “Just in case,” you said, sending her a smile. She looked thankful as she gripped it.

“Look,” Lin shouted, pointing to the airbending guy. “They’ve been split up now!” A guard somehow had managed to get him away from the group. In the distance you could see Korra laying on the rock with lava around it. Mako hurled another fire ball at the explosion lady but the water bender blocked it with her arms. The chick focused on the four of you, a lazer starting to form from her forehead.

The explosion collided with another metal plane. Asami snapped her head behind her. Suyin and her sons blocked the lazer just in time. They caught up with the five of you and all eight of you huddled for protection. Your body blocked anything coming Asami’s way as you stood on the defense side of fighting.

 “How did they get in here,” Lin yelled over the explosions. “I don’t know, but they won’t get away,” Suyin exclaimed. 

“There’s no way to cross,” Asami muttered, as she watched the guards being flung from the metal bridge they had built to the four criminals. Suyin eyes narrowed as she observed the scene in front of her. Her green eyes lit up as an idea striked through her head. “We don’t need to. Lin and I can get up there and use our cables.” “Good idea,” Lin replied, following her gaze to where her sister looked. “How are we going to get past her?” You followed Lin’s eyes. “Don’t worry. Bolin and I will have your back.” Her brows furrowed. “How?” “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, “But you have to trust me.”

Lin furrowed her brows. She didn’t say anything but eventually agreed. “Alright, I trust you.” You smiled. “Take Ruby with you.” “Why?” “I don’t want her getting hurt. Besides, she’ll be the first to warn you in the air.” Lin looked at you with disbelief but stretched her arm out to the red bird anyway. “Take care of her Rubes,” you whispered, as Lin and Suyin disappeared into the air.

You raised your pistols. “Bolin! I need you to hit the third eye lady!” Bolin yelled, “I can’t get a good shot!” “Keep trying,” you yelled, firing more pellets.

****

Bolin’s rock hit her square in the head. She stumbled, and her face pulled in anger. Taking this as your shot, you fired a pellet in her damn forehead. Lightening shot out once it made contact. “Holy,” Bolin and Mako murmured at the same time. The lightening traveled through her body and it reached her face. A scream ripped out of her chest. The water armed lady snapped her head towards her. Lin’s eyes widened in shock as the explosion chick toppled over. “Lin!” Suyin’s voice snapped her out of her surprised state. Taking this as her chance, Lin grabbed Korra, swinging her over her shoulder. Korra groaned but laid limp. Ruby’s screeching pierced through Lin’s ears. Lin swung her hips to the right and the water bender’s arm reached out to were she was seconds ago. “Clever bird,” Lin muttered, eyes wide as she slowly raised up into the hidden panel.

The air bender scooped up the unconscious third eye lady. The lava bender and the water bender sent a death glared towards you. “We failed! Move out,” he commanded. Twirling his staff with one hand, he swept  air above the four of them. It became darker and darker from the smoke and flames. The four of you coughed from choking on smoke. When the air bubble slowly dissipated, they were gone.

****

Korra laid on one of the green couches in Su’s study. She was awake but her voice was hoarse. Lin and Suyin hovered over her as Aiwei treated Korra. Bolin, Mako, and Asami sat on the couch across from them. Asami had given you your dagger back once you all met up in Suyin’s study. Ruby stood on your shoulder with you by the door. She wasn’t hurt thankfully, but she was very skittish. “You’ll be getting all the almonds you want tomorrow,” you told her, stroking her feathers. She tweeted softly, beak nuzzling your hand softly.

“You assured me this was the safest place in the world,” Lin said harshly as Korra drank the bottle Aiwei gave her. “It is,” Suyin argued defensively, “don’t blame me! It was well planned, how could I have known?!” Your face tugged in thought as you listened to their arguing. The metal shields that came up prevented from anything entering or leaving. There was no way they could’ve got in..unless...

“You have a traitor in your city Suyin,” you said softly. “That’s how they got in.” Aiwei got up and cast Suyin an apologetic look. “They’re right. It seems the four of them had some inside knowledge in Zafou.”

“We searched throughout the entire estate. There’s no sign of them.” A guard stood in the doorway of Suyin’s study. “Well keep looking,” Lin snapped. They nodded and left.

“The- The guards. It had to be one of them.” You all snapped to Korra. She rubbed her head with the heel of her palm as she sat up. She sounded so weak. “I agree,” Aiwei said. “Question them all!” Suyin sounded so angry. You cast a glance towards Lin. Her brows had sunk in anger and her green eyes twinkled dangerously. Everyone looked nervous and afraid. “This has been one hell of a night,” you mumbled to yourself. “I could use a drink.”

****

“We’re getting no where,” Lin growled, as Aiwei dismissed the guard. “Things like this take time Lin,” you reassured her softly. “We’ll find them.” Lin grumbled and crossed her arms. Bolin looked at her surprised. Usually she’d snap and berate anyone who dared to talk back at her. Now that he thought of it, Lin never seemed to snap at you. He tilted his head at you questioningly. You waved him off, eyes turning back to watch the interrogations.

“You should be doing this,” Lin huffed, turning to you. “It’s your area of field after all.” You hummed, “You’re not wrong.” Suyin interjected, “Aiwei is a trusted member of my council. He’s family. Are you saying he can’t be trusted?” 

“It’s better to investigate everyone,” you said. “Never know who it could be.” “Exactly,” Lin gritted out narrowing her eyes at Suyin. Su scoffed at her. “Are you insinuating it could’ve been me.” “Someone higher up could’ve done it.” Suyin rolled her eyes. “Fine. Aiwei question me. I’ve got nothing to hide.” He nodded, “If you wish.”

****

Suyin rose from her chair. “She is telling the truth,” Aiwei confirmed, turning to Lin. She groaned. She couldn’t believe this. Zaofu was supposed to be the safest city in the world. Who let these criminals infiltrate the city? Aiwei’s eyes turned to you. They narrowed suspiciously. “Oh my god,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re not even considering me are you?” “Sit.” You sighed, moving around Korra to the chair across from Aiwei.

“There’s no way they could’ve done it,” Bolin interjected. “They were the first ones there! If they were on their side they would’ve been with the others!” “It’s fine Bolin,” you reassured him. At least someone had your back. “It’s just an investigation.” He shrunk but you could see his green eyes still filled with worry.

****

“They’re lying.” “What?” You laughed in disbelief. “I didn’t do it!” “(Y/N).” Your eyes snapped to Lin’s. Surely, she had to believe you. Oh how wrong you were. Lin’s eyes were cold as she stared into your soul. Her fists clenched by her sides and her aura felt betrayed. The blood in your veins ran cold. The air in the room felt suffocating and your heart tore into two. She didn’t believe him did she? “I suggest we search their place.”

They all got up and left for your chambers. Except for Lin. “Lin-” “Don’t. Say. Anything.” Her hard voice made you flinch. Lin shook her head in disbelief. Her back was turned to you, trembling. Lin swallowed thickly before muttering, “None of this was real.” Her voice shoke with every word she spoke. Lin shook her head one last time before leaving.

****

“This is a mistake!” The sound of the guards harshly pulling your drawers out and threw your clothes out rang in your ears. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening. “Hey!” A couple of guards shuffled through the plans on your desk aggressively. Ruby and Azure screeched in their cages. “Be careful with that,” you shouted as a guard picked up a project you had been working on for Suyin. You watched them helplessy destroy your chambers. All you could do was stand there and watch all of your hard work be destroyed. They went as far as flinging off the sheets from your bed along with the comfy pillows. 

“Found it!” Mako called, holding up a slip of paper from your desk. Suyin and Lin’s head perked up. Korra and Bolin stiffened behind them. Aiwei’s hand reached out for the slip of paper. Mako handed it to him sending a glare your way. Your jaw clenched tightly, but you didn’t say anything. Aiwei’s eyes widened and he lifted his head to you. “Team assembled. Ready to Rendezvous.” “And look at this,” Asami piped up from the bookshelf. She handed Aiwei a green book with fancy gold carvings on it. The silence in the room as he read through the pages made your heart sink even lower. The whole world was against you.“It’s the guards logs,” he muttered darkly as he flipped through it. “It’s filled with routes and their schedules.” 

“No,” you whispered. “It wasn’t me!” “Guards, seize them.” “Hey,” you shouted, as the guards swept towards you. Their hands tightened on your arms and they hauled you up. You swung your legs trying to get out of their grasp. “Wait a minute,” Bolin shouted, “Let them talk.” “We have enough evidence.” Lin. You snapped your eyes up to hers as the guards hauled you at. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving. She felt betrayed. She trusted you. They all trusted you. You were finally in her grasp and she latched on too quickly. She allowed the avatar to be vulnerable, because she trusted someone who wanted nothing to do with her years ago. This is why we can only trust ourselves, a voice told her, this is why we’re alone. “Take them to the interrogation room.” The doors swung closed muffling your shouts of protest. Lin felt her heart shatter again. No one said a word as they eventually shuffled out one by one. “Lin-” “I don’t want to hear it Suyin,” she muttered to her sister. “Just leave me alone.” Suyin’s eyes fell but she didn’t say anything. She gave a slight nod and left. The doors closed softly behind her. All Lin could hear was the soft twittering of your parakeets and the clock ticking on the wall. A cry left her throat. The tears flowed freely now and she raised her hand to her mouth, clamping it shut. Lin felt like she was going to vomit. She stood in the destroyed room alone. Paper was scattered and torn on the floor.

Lin clenched her jaw tightly. It begun to ache from her teeth grinding so hard. Another cry left Lin’s throat. She was a damn fool.

****

The cuffs on the table were cutting into your wrists. They were heavy and cold. The circulation in your blood was being cut off. Your ass felt numb from the stiff metal chair you were trapped in. The cold, sturdy metal dug into you. How long had it been?  Minutes? Hours? There wasn’t a way to tell. Tears welled in your eyes. Lin looked so disgusted with you. She wouldn’t listen to you. It was perfect, too perfect. Everyone was now against you in a matter of minutes. How was the evidence there? Someone must of snuck into your room and planted it there. But when? 

Aiwei. You chuckled; there was no joy or humor in it. “That bastard,” you snarled, nails digging into your skin. You ignored the pain that flared up in your palms.

Creak. The metal door opened slowly.You perked your head up at the it. You felt the lump in your throat tighten at the sight of her. Lin stood in front of you with no emotion on her face. Her green eyes were dull and her posture was upright once she sat down. There wasn’t an ounce of softness in her eyes anymore. The light had been replaced by hate. “I swear to you didn’t do it,” you whispered weakly, head hanging low. “I would never put you or Korra in danger.” “Liar.” You snapped up to her. Lin swallowed thickly as she peered into your soul. Her eyes were hallow. You’d rather have her look at you with anger then seeing her eyes filled with nothing.

 “I wouldn’t hurt you Lin. What could I gain by forming an attack on you and the avatar? You know I care about you.” Lin’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “You think your words are going to make me care? I thought you were better than that. Now, I don’t know what to believe anymore. ” Her tone was cold. The walls around her were back up again. She looked at you with disgust. But more importantly, she looked at you with hurt in her eyes. 

“The evidence. Explain that.” “It’s not mine..Aiwei...” you whispered. The tears in your eyes fell freely. Your lips pulled back into a grimace and you whimpered. The darkness in the room swallowed you. “Are you claiming that he had something to do with it? How childish, now you’re putting the blame on someone else. Grow up.” Her words made you flinch. No longer was it Lin sitting in front of you. It was your mother.

 “Please... you have to believe me I-” “(Y/n).” You looked up at her. “Who were those people?” “I don’t know,” you replied, voice slightly raising. Lin arched a brow. Your stress levels were high. It was dark, it was too dark and you felt like the room was choking closing in on you. The woman you loved now looked at you with hatred in your eyes. Your breathing became shallow and you choked on the stale air in this shitty interrogation room.

“Breathe,” Lin commanded, “Get your fucking shit together!” Her hands slammed down on the table. It echoed throughout the cold and dark interrogation room. You swallowed your breath and choked an exhale out. Tears poured out of your eyes. Your heart in your chest was being sliced up and bruised from Lin’s harsh words. Spirits, why was everything spinning so fast.

I didn’t want it to come to this,” you whimpered. “I never wanted this to happen.” She swallowed thickly. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Do I even matter to you?” You sniffled, “Of..Of course Lin. H-how could you say that? I told you I’d do anything for you!” Her nostrils flared. “Then why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” you cried. “I’m not, I do love you Lin.” Lin’s eyes widened. Her eyes started to water and her throat tightened. She refused to cry in front of you. She had been weak before, she wouldn’t be weak now. “No, you never meant a single word that you said to me. You’re a damn liar.” Your lip quivered and you let out a whimper. Everything was falling apart.

She looked so disgusted with you. Your presence was a reminder of how frail she really was. Lin would never be the strong and tough woman she had always aspired to be. You saw the cracks in her facade and manipulated her for your own gain. Everyone’s life was on the line because of her. Korra almost got kidnapped because she had been so careless. Lin was ashamed at herself for believing your lies and making her feel happy again.

“You know what? I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me. You’re broken, you’re beyond fixing, you’re not something I want to take the time to handle.” You bit your quivering lip. You choked on the cry that wanted to cry its way out of your throat from swallowing it. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

She slowly rose up from her chair. The clinking of her metal armor was the only sound in the room. Her hand hovered over the door handle. “Lin.” She stiffened. Your voice sounded so heartbroken and sad. Her hand balled up into fists as she turned back to look at you. It hurt more having to see the tears and fear in your eyes. “Don’t give up one me.. I can’t loose you too.” Lin laughed. You flinched; the pain in her laugh echoed in the small dark room. “This is all your fault. It always comes back to this with you doesn’t it? Save your tears.”

“Why can’t we talk about this? Why can’t we just-” “Does it ever occur to you that I’m done talking? That I am done reflecting my words and actions? Can’t you just take a fucking hint that I’m done with you? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” You didn’t say anything. The tears made your vision blurry. The stunned silence gave the cue to Lin that it was time to leave. “Hope you’re proud, I’m done here.”

The sound of the door slamming shut was the thing that broke your resolve. The dam you had tried so hard to close had its walls torn open. Sobs left your trembling body. You cried so hard your throat begun to ache and your face became sluggish. Aiwei’s actions had been your undoing. Now, you were the one paying the price.

[urdearestmom]

brain damage

i’m back again y’all and just wrote this piece... a bit of a scene study from that scene in 3x06. basically what i wish mike had said 

also the middle part is mostly conjecture but some of it is bits that you can hear in the actual scene if you strain your ears and ignore nancy and jonathan talking over it

also DISCLAIMER i do not hate max!! i really like her actually but she was really pissing me off with this whole bit because she just does not have any basis for understanding mileven's relationship and so her advice doesn't always directly apply. she had good intentions but BRUH. anyways i could go on a whole rant about max vs mike in season 3 but i'm not gonna do that right now lmao

It’s pretty silent in here, El thinks. It always is, but tonight it’s… strange. Almost as though it’s empty. Why can’t she find them? She’s been sitting in her room for the last half hour trying to locate any of the flayed and although she can’t see it, she knows there’s a growing mountain of bloody tissues next to her on the floor. She’s starting to think that she might need to give herself a break for a little bit.

Her friends are in the living room waiting for her, and she knows they’re all anxious to find out what she might see. So far, absolutely nothing. The only thing that happens is that every so often she hears a bit of a voice. It’s just there, tickling the edges of her consciousness, and she could tune into it if she wanted to… but she’s already identified it by the cadence of the noise as Mike’s voice, and she’d said she wouldn’t spy on him. She’d done it once and he was clearly upset by it. Although they aren’t really back to how they were before, El misses him more than she lets on, and she doesn’t want to make things worse by spying again.

Outside, Mike is getting close to yelling. He sincerely hopes El can’t hear him because he is once again fighting with her new best friend.

“It can’t be good for her to be in there for this long,” he exclaims, pacing in front of her door.

“Mike, you need to relax,” says Max, looking disdainfully at him.

“What if she gets brain damage or something?!”

“Oh shit,” interrupts Lucas, looking between them. “Is that like, a real thing?”

Max scoffs. “No, it’s not. He made it up. Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” she adds, raising her eyebrows defiantly as if daring him to refute her.

“Oh, and you do?! ” He retorts. Her facial expression alone is pissing him off. It’s so self-righteous, as if she knows anything at all about him or how he thinks and feels.

“No,” she says quickly. “But I think El does. See, that’s the difference between you and me. You think you know everything!”

“I don’t know everything,” he fires back. His hands are balled into fists and he’s starting to shake. “But I know her.”

Max snorts. “You’re just mad she wants to be her own person. You can’t deal with other people not doing what you tell them to.”

“What do you think this is, Russia? I’m not some dictator, okay? I’m just trying to protect El!” He says angrily. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Max doesn’t know the first thing about what he can or can’t deal with and acting like she does is striking his last nerve. Mike can feel the familiar boil of rage deep within him coming to a rise.

“The only person who knows anything about El’s powers is El,” says Max, with an air of finality.

Mike crosses his arms in an attempt to get himself in control of his emotions. “So if that’s true, what makes you think you have any more of a say than I do?”

She splutters for a moment and it’s so satisfying that Mike almost smirks, but it drops quickly when Max rises from her seat and stalks over to him.

“I don’t,” she seethes, poking him forcefully in the chest. “But she does, and you need to back off .”

“I’m not even on! ” He yells, throwing his arms up and pushing her away. He realizes his statement doesn’t actually make any sense but… whatever. At this point, it’s not like it matters. “She won’t listen to me! Because you put ideas in her head! You know she absorbs every new thing people tell her and you pressured her into dumping me!”

There it is. It’s out. It’s what he’s been thinking since it happened. He knew he’d messed up big-time by lying to El, but he never would have expected her to dump him over it. And the look on Max’s face as she stood by and watched had said everything he needed to know.

Max’s face is turning an alarming shade of pink and Mike thinks that he probably matches her. “I didn’t pressure her into anything, she decided! What is your problem with letting El decide things for herself?!”

“I don’t have a problem! At least I didn’t before you inserted yourself where you didn’t need to be!”

“All I did was give her choices!”

Mike takes a deep breath to retaliate, but then lets it go and turns away. “You don’t understand. Just- fucking leave me alone.”

Lucas is still staring at them; Mike can feel his friend’s eyes on his back. Why isn’t he agreeing? He was there when El- he knows what she can push herself to.

Max makes an angry noise. “Fine! It’s not my fault you can’t be wrong!” She walks toward Nancy and Jonathan and Mike follows, preparing to convince everyone else that this is a stupid idea. “Okay, can you guys settle an argument for us?”

Nancy looks hard at them, her eyes searching Mike quickly before flicking back to the girl next to him.

“Who do you think should decide El’s limits… Mike, or Eleven?”

He sees red. “The way that you framed that is such bullshit. ” Why is he the villain here?!

Her braids whip around her face as she turns to him. “It’s not bullshit, Mike, this is your whole problem! And it’s also precisely the reason why she dumped your ass!”

“El dumped you?” Nancy asks incredulously.

Mike throws his arms up again. “Yeah, because she’s conspiring against me! She’s corrupting her!”

“N- enlightening her!” Max throws back. “The fact is, she’s not yours. She’s her own person, fully capable of making her own decisions.”

“She’s risking her life for no reason!” He shouts.

“No reason?” Says Nancy. “Mike, the flayed are out there doing god knows what-”

“Killing, flaying,” interjects Lucas.

“Transforming into monsters,” adds Will.

Mike glares at them. Not helping.

“And El’s not stupid,” Nancy continues, shaking her head. “She knows her abilities better than any of us.”

“Exactly, thank you,” Max says victoriously. Mike closes his eyes. He cannot believe this is how this is going.

“And she is her own person-”

“Exactly!”

“With her own free will-”

“Exactly! El has saved the world twice and Mike still doesn’t trust her-”

At that he has to interrupt. There’s no way he’s letting Max flip this around. “You wanna talk about trust, really? After you made Eleven spy on us?!”

Max looks down, giving herself away.

Lucas stands up behind him. “Wait, what?”

Mike whirls to face him. “Oh, she didn’t tell you this?” He says sarcastically.

“No!”

“Your girlfriend used El’s powers to spy on us ,” he spits.

“No, no, no,” Max interjects. “I did not make her, it was her idea. And why are we even talking about this, seriously?”

“Yeah,” says Will. “Who cares?”

And now Mike’s annoyed at Will too. Will has no idea what is going on in Mike’s head and he’s not ever going to understand why he feels the way he does. Just the same as the rest of the Party will never really relate to Will’s struggles because they weren’t there, Will wasn’t there for theirs either. He didn’t see what she did-

“I care!” Says Lucas, and finally Mike is glad someone seems to be on his side. Thank God for small blessings.

“Yeah, I guess girlfriends don’t lie, they spy,” he says, turning back to Max at the last moment so she can truly see his ire.

“We were just joking around,” she defends.

“Would it have been so funny if I was taking a massive shit or something?” He asks.

She wrinkles her nose. “You weren’t!”

“But what if I was?!”

“Then gross!”

“Seriously, Mike?” Interrupts Nancy, and all of a sudden this has become like one of those moments where he just wants to strangle her for talking before he’s done. She does it all the fucking time and like, he guesses it’s probably part of being siblings but it leaves him fuming more often than not.

“I’m just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with Eleven’s powers,” he says carefully. This is where he needs to get his point across. He desperately needs someone to understand that he’s not trying to be controlling or police what El does or doesn’t do, he’s just trying to save her from herself. He couldn’t do it the first time, but by God if he isn’t going to try now.

“Have any of you noticed Lucas is the only one not disagreeing with me?” He asks.

Max huffs. “Lucas doesn’t have anything to do with this. This is your prob-”

“Lucas has everything to do with this!” He roars. Mike has absolutely had it up to here with her and turns on her a final time, shaking again. “You weren’t there, Max! None of you were. Except Lucas. You don’t know what she’ll do..” His voice trembles.

Lucas seems to understand what he’s getting at and lays a hand on his shoulder. Mike flashes him a grateful look. He still has a hard time thinking about that night, much less talking about it. “She vaporized herself in front of us. I tried to stop her and she did it anyway.”

The room is silent now, the only sound being the TV static from El’s bedroom where she’s still holed up. Mike takes a breath.

“It’s not that I think El doesn’t know her limits,” he says. “I just know that she doesn’t care about them. She’ll die overexerting herself before she lets something hurt one of us.”

He looks up at everyone, Jonathan and Will looking oddly similarly out of place and Nancy with her eyes trained on his face as she listens. Max isn’t looking at him. Good , he thinks. Maybe that made her feel guilty.

“How would you feel if you knew firsthand El didn’t care about dying to save her friends, huh? Wouldn’t you be worried about her?” He directs this at Max specifically, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “You guys are treating her like some kind of machine, and she’s not a machine. I still have nightmares about that day all the time.”

The room stays silent, almost as though everyone is holding a breath and waiting for him to start yelling again, but he’s not going to. He doesn’t have any energy left to expound on this topic. If Max wants to keep making him the bad guy, then whatever. He has more important things to worry about.

“I just-” He starts and stops, wondering if this is the right thing to say. “I don’t want her to die looking for the flayed when they’ve obviously vanished off the face of the Earth, so we can we please just come up with another plan because I love her and I can’t lose her again.”

Now it’s almost as though all the air has actually been sucked out of the room. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to reveal the depth of his feelings, but Mike really didn’t know what else he could say that could possibly make them understand his position. Lucas’ hand on his shoulder squeezes for a quick second and then lightly taps him as Lucas moves his arm back.

Nancy shakes her head. “I get that you don’t want her to hurt herself, Mike, but she’s already in there. There’s not much else we can do.”

“What’s going on?”

Everyone whips around to face El coming out of her bedroom doorway. Holy shit, did she hear what he said? Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit-

“Nothing. Nothing!” He says quickly.

“Just… family discussion,” adds Lucas from behind him. Mike can feel the smirk in his voice without even having to look at him.

“Oh,” says El, and suddenly Mike really wants to hug her. But this isn’t the time. He looks away.

“I found him,” she continues.

“Found… who?” Nancy asks.

“Billy.”

[fancifulwhump]

i’m a simple bitch who likes seeing jaskier get kidnapped and geralt having to rescue him lmao

AN:   as you ask, so shall you recieve.   protective geralt going from beast-mode to soft??  that’s my jam, dude

In Geralt’s complete defense, the risks of leaving Jaskier unattended — of which past experience had proven were many — really paled in comparison to a Devourer attack.

Rather, an attack by multiple Devourers, at the same bloody time, with the tenacity of a pack of wild wolves. The flesh-craving beasts showed little interest in a Witcher’s mutated blood. They wanted human flesh, and human alone. A reign of terror stretching on for weeks before Geralt happened upon the poor mining village in the mountains made that clear enough. People could no longer venture from their homes without risk of being torn to bits by a sulking monster. Geralt’s arrival was a blessing to them. Jaskier’s presence — for, having hit a creative dry spell, he'd been following Geralt for the last few weeks, to “fan the flames of inspiration” — was just convenient. 

Geralt never liked using the bard as bait. This had nothing to do with any moral qualms; any time Jaskier involved himself in a kill, things got complicated. He simple had a talent for getting in the way. Trouble was drawn to him like a magnet; rather than avoid it, the idiot almost seemed to invite it. Geralt tried to keep Jaskier out of the way during jobs because bailing him out of danger was more trouble than any amount of coin was worth.

That, and he’d rather not see his companion be mauled or swallowed whole by a monster. 

Sometimes, however, Jaskier’s presence during a job could actually be useful. Like it or not, Geralt had to put him to work.

“This isn’t my first time playing irresistibly seductive meat-sack, you know,” huffed the meat-sack in question, carefully fastening his lute to a pack strung along Roach’s side. When Jaskier looked up at Geralt, his eyes glittered. Whatever thrill he got from being in mortal peril, it was probably worrying. “Practically used to it by now. Could make it a profession. Thank the gods I’m here, too, or what else would you have done? Picked up a nice, juicy steak from the market, and dressed it up like a toddler?”

Geralt snorted, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. It was a small, silver-bladed thing — better for throwing than stabbing, though it could be useful at close range. The hilt was almost too small for his hands. In Jaskier’s, it fit perfectly.

“Only if you need it,” he said. Jaskier gripped the blade, eyes wide with fascination, before nodding and tucking it into his own belt. “Quick slashes. If you have to stab, stab deep.”

Of course, Jaskier couldn’t fight, and he certainly didn’t stand a chance against a monster… but at least he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

So, Jaskier was sent on ahead, and did what he did best — played the oblivious fool. Only when he’d blustered along the mountainside for about ten minutes, leading Roach along as the Witcher silently trailed them both, did their plan show signs of success. In the distance, a few rocks shifted. Pebbles rolled down the mountainside. The faint trill of birdsong went quiet.

Jaskier had been humming to himself, but his voice cut off abruptly. His head raised; he glanced around. That was all he had time to do before a blur suddenly shot out of the cave, launching itself at him.

And another, and another — more than Geralt expected.

In a few swift bounds, he was in the middle of the fray, cutting Devourers down in midair. This was just enough time for the bait to make his escape. With the battle begun, Jaskier leapt on top of Roach and sped off — “somewhere safe”, Geralt had told him.

So maybe Geralt was the fool, for assuming the hapless bard could look after himself. At any rate, he trusted Roach to keep Jaskier out of trouble; the horse always had more sense than he did, anyhow. 

An hour, maybe, or less — that’s how long it took for Geralt, covered in Devourer blood and a few new scratches, to follow the trail his horse and companion left, only to come up empty handed. Not being able to hear Jaskier’s annoying caterwaul was the first sign of trouble. Coming across a lute in the bushes, smashed and abandoned, was the second.

Picking up the remnants of the familiar instrument, Geralt’s hands tightened around the wood; he sighed through his nose, barely able to restrain his own frustration.

Served him right for letting Jaskier near his bloody horse... and letting them both out of his sight.

Witcher senses were better honed for tracking than even the most astute hunter. It also helped that the bandits didn’t bother to cover their tracks well. The left a trail of broken twigs, snapped branches, and footprints behind them. However much of a head start the group — Geralt counted five sets of footprints, maybe six — had on him, it didn’t take long to track them down.

Even so, it took long enough. Too long.

He could smell the blood before the noises reached his ears. Perhaps the senses hit at the same time, and he just didn’t register; as soon as that metallic tang hit his nose, all-too-familiar, Geralt saw red. Blood meant nothing on its own, but this blood held a familiar scent — he’d recognize it anywhere. It was as familiar to him as that annoying voice, or that smirk any time Jaskier said something he thought was particularly funny. Blood could belong to anyone, but Jaskier’s blood was his, and Geralt could smell a lot of it.

Blood, and noise, and shouting — not Jaskier’s voice, but a stranger’s rough tone, spitting venom in a language Geralt faintly recognizes. A horse’s frustrated wail. Sharpening blades. And underneath it all… a strangled whimper.

Geralt found the bandits’ campsite.

As for whatever happened at the campsite… well, he couldn’t be held responsible.

By the time the last of the thieves took off running into the forest, stumbling over himself in horror, the bandits’ camp was utterly quiet. Before his body hit the tree, the big one had been making an awful lot of noise. So was the quick one, when he hissed at Geralt and tried to draw his sword; thankfully, Geralt was quicker. Now, in the silence, with nothing but his heavy breathing as he came back to awareness, Geralt could see everything.

Roach was unharmed, tied to a tree. She stomped her feet as Geralt came closer, as if applauding his quick work… but Geralt’s attention turned in a second, from her to the other side of the clearing. Silence reigned there as well, and it was unnerving. 

Jaskier was never silent. Jaskier didn’t know how to be silent. 

The figure slumped against the base of the tree, chest bound with rope and head bowed, did not make a sound.

The stench of blood grew overwhelming the closer Geralt got. He had to force himself not to focus on it. Instead, he honed in on Jaskier’s heart, beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Not faltering, not stuttering — he was alive, then. Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped Geralt, loud in the silent woods.

Then he saw the blood staining a head of dark hair, trailing down Jaskier’s jaw.

“Shit.” Immediately, he dropped to one knee, hand finding his companion’s shoulder. The battered captive’s face scrunched you in pain when Geralt gripped it. “Jaskier. Hey! Jaskier.” Unwilling to hurt him any further, Geralt shook his companion lightly. “Wake up.”

It was just enough — or maybe the pain from Geralt’s touch pulled him back into wakefulness. Jaskier stirred, head sluggishly rolling on his shoulders. For a moment, he struggled to lift it, as though his skull were filled with lead rather than gray matter. When he finally managed, he blinked sluggishly up at Geralt, pupils blown wide. Concussion, then, Geralt thought, and had to bite back another curse.

“Ah hah — the mighty Witcher!” Jaskier’s head fell back like a doll’s; still, he offered Geralt a wide grin. His teeth were stained with blood, from the busted corner of his lip. “Knew you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time. Caught about half that fight, I think. Just half. Til you threw that one lad down the hill.”

Was it any surprise that even half-senseless, Jaskier still didn’t know how to shut up? Geralt just took it as a good sign that he was talking. While the bard blathered on, he busied himself checking Jaskier over for further injuries. His shoulder was probably dislocated; he’d have some colorful bruises in the morning; there were a few deep scratches along his face and bare forearms, like he’d been dragged through brush…

“Mmm. Geralt. Hey.” Jaskier’s movement was sudden — like a marionette unable to control his own limbs, his arm raised, landing heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt looked up, Jaskier’s head was lolling to the side. He seemed to be putting in a valiant effort to stay awake. Half opened eyes remained trained on Geralt, warm with an emotion Geralt could not name, but left him feeling immensely guilty. He should have gotten here sooner. He shouldn’t have let Jaskier out of his sight in the first place.

“Look,” said Jaskier — and, very deliberately, nodded towards the thug still crumpled at the base of a nearby tree. The tree’s trunk had a dent in it. Geralt wished he’d thrown him harder. “In the pockets,” insisted Jaskier, giving Geralt a weak push of encouragement.

Bemused, Geralt made his way over; hoisting the thug’s body up by the back of his jacket, he shook him out for any spare bits. A shower of gold pieces greeted him, along with a pair of rings… and a silver-bladed dagger, stained with blood. Geralt lifted the familiar blade, frowning at it. When his gaze turned to Jaskier again, a grin, bleary but proud, greeted him.

“Jus’ like you said,” Jaskier slurred, then let out a dry crackle of laughter. “I stabbed ‘im deep. And they did not appreciate that, let me tell you —“

“Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, hand tightening around the blade.

Yet another mistake to tally for the day. Giving Jaskier a weapon was supposed to keep him out of trouble, not damn him deeper.

Without bothering to clean it off, Geralt rounded on Jaskier, blade clutched in his hands. Jaskier’s unfocused gaze tracked his approach with obvious effort. However hard he was trying to stay awake, he was fighting a losing battle. Even so, not a flicker of fear crossed Jaskier’s face at the sight of a hulking Witcher, advancing with a blade in hand.

Geralt cut Jaskier’s bonds in a few quick strokes. As soon as he was no longer bound to the tree, Jaskier slumped forward. It took Geralt’s quickest reflexes to lurch sideways, catching him before he could hit the ground. A dead weight in his arms, Jaskier let out a small moan.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded. As he shifted the injured man into an easier position, Jaskier inhaled sharply, face twisting up in pain. Another groan sounded through clenched teeth, but a second later Jaskier forced a strained smile.

“Kicked me in the chest — more than once.”

Geralt didn’t need to test the statement any further. As gently as he was capable of being, he eased Jaskier back against the tree. Broken ribs would be more of a headache than all of Jaskier’s other injuries combined, but hopefully he didn’t shatter so easily. Human bodies were so fragile; Geralt saw it every day, of course, in the remains of men torn apart by monsters. Seeing it firsthand was different. Seeing Jaskier, of all people, wounded and in pain… something in Geralt’s chest was drawn tight, like a clenched fist, and the more his companion swallowed back sounds of pain, the tighter it got.

“Better get you up, then,” he muttered. Jaskier nodded, face still screwed up. A long moment passed before his hand tightened on Geralt’s shoulder, and it took yet another moment before he managed to hoist himself upright.

Finding his feet was another challenge. Geralt did his best to offer support without brutalizing Jaskier’s injuries further. No sooner did he pull himself up, however, than Jaskier began to teeter. When his gaze slipped out of focus, Geralt’s arm twined around him. He caught him just as Jaskier’s knees began to buckle.

A yell shattered the illusion of quiet around them, ripping through Jaskier’s body like a physical attack. As fresh pain rippled through his chest, he shoved away from Geralt, who released him without protest. For a moment, it seemed certain that Jaskier would topple. His breathing heavy, each gasp an effort that nearly knocked him sideways, he finally managed to find his feet. Wide eyed, he gazed at Geralt, twisting a protective arm around his chest.

“I’m — I’m okay.” Jaskier put a hand up. “I’m fine. But next time — next time I fall, Geralt, don’t bother catching me.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. In response, Jaskier shook his head. “I can manage on my own.”

And to his credit, he did. He managed to get on Roach, at least, and the horse carried him back the rest of the way. Jaskier didn’t lose consciousness once, no matter how his head lolled or his senses drifted. Geralt didn’t mind the slurred ramblings, weaving their way through utter nonsense. Only when Jaskier went silent did he worry. Each time, he looked up to find his friend fading, blue eyes half-shut, head falling against his shoulder. Geralt gave a bruising pinch to the flesh of his arm, and Jaskier awoke again.

The nearest inn was a night’s ride from their campsite, and it was getting dark already. By the time they made it back, there seemed little sense going any further, especially with Jaskier in his state. He fell into his bed as soon as Geralt had it laid out on the ground, and did not have the energy to raise his head, even when Geralt offered him a sip of much-needed water.

“‘M fine,” Jaskier muttered. His muted tone suggested he was anything but; Geralt wouldn’t argue, though, if rest was really what Jaskier needed. 

“We need to set your shoulder,” he remarked, keeping his voice low for Jaskier’s benefit. “And clean the blood from your head. That wound ought to be bandaged.”

Jaskier nodded along slowly, as thought everything Geralt was saying made perfect sense. His eyes were closed, expression unchanging, so however much he really understood was anyone’s guess. Frowning, Geralt took the liberty of wetting a cloth himself. Hesitating for just long enough to wonder which decisions in his life brought him to this point — to caring so deeply for someone so easily breakable, so human — he set the cloth against Jaskier’s bloodied face. As the grime was sponged away, Jaskier could not help but sigh in relief.

“That’s the stuff,” he muttered. “All I need. Just… rest, Geralt? Can we? Is that okay?”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “Yes, Jaskier. We can rest awhile.”

This was all he needed to hear. Jaskier smiled, setting his head back down on his pack once more; as his eyes drifted shut, Geralt fought off an instinctive flash of worry. Hand tightening around the damp cloth, he brought it back to Jaskier’s face, and continued cleaning the remnants of that bloody encounter.

Next time they faced down monsters, he might think twice about letting Jaskier out of his sight… but no matter what trouble he fell into, Geralt would always be there to pull him out.

[zovioliswritings]

"Hopeless, worthless, and useless...." Leo x fem reader

(HI! so this is my first fan fiction in like...years lmao. So let me know what you guys think! Also, in this Y/N has an extreme fear of confrontation due to family history, having gone behind Leo's back to train with Splinter. What will happen when she is forced to do the one thing she fears the most?)

Y/N panted heavily, hunched over with her hands on her knees. Trying to catch her breath as Master Splinter watched with a small smile.

"You are doing much better my child." He relaxed from his fighting stance and made his way over to the young woman. Resting a gentle paw on her shoulder. "Though you need to learn not to waste so much of your energy so quickly."

She let out a small groan as she straightened her posture. "How am I supposed to do that? You're so much faster than me. I have to act quickly."

This earned a small chuckle from him, letting his paw fall back to his side. "That may be true, but you could benefit from being more defensive. Something you and Raphael have in common. You should train with him, you two could help benefit one another."

With a shake of her head, she let out a defeated sigh. "As much as I'd love to do that, I can't. That would just raise the chances of Leo finding out. You know he doesn't want me to fight, Sensei."

The rat sighed, shaking his head. Knowing exactly how his eldest son would react if he found Y/N sparring with his red clad brother. "Then maybe it is time we have a talk with Leonardo. This over-protectiveness of his has become overbearing."

Y/N shook her head frantically, her heart dropping as anxiety instantly filled her soul. "N-no Sensei, you promised me you wouldn't say anything. I-its fine, I know Leo means well. He just doesn't want me to be hurt."

"This goes beyond just you getting hurt Y/N, he refuses for you to learn how to properly protect yourself." Splinters eyes narrowed, irritated with his son's decisions. "I've kept my promise in hopes you would eventually tell him, but it has been 6 months. It is only a matter of time before he finds out."

"I-I know..." Y/N whispered, twiddling with her thumbs. Unable to look up at the mutant rat. Her anxiety of eating away at her, making her wish a hole would appear under her feet and swallow her whole.

Master Splinter let out a sigh, forcing his shoulders to relax. His voice soft, but stern. "I know your fear of confronting this subject is hard on you miss Y/L/N, but this can not drag on much further. I'm giving you two days to tell my son."

Y/N's eyes widened as she snapped her gaze up to him. Her heart pounding in her chest as her lungs suddenly founding it difficult to breathe. "T...T-two....two days? M-m-master splinter I-I can't p-p-"

He rested his paw on her shoulder once again," You can and you will Y/N. It is not healthy for him to keep you from doing things and you going behind his back to do them anyway. It has to come to an end. Within these two days you will tell Leonardo.....or I will."

Y/N's breathing picked up, fighting to keep herself from having an anxiety attack. Her heart nearly stopped and leaped out of her chest when a familiar voice appeared behind the two.

"Tell me what Sensei?"

His voice, it sounded concerned. Y/N could feel his eyes on her back, but she couldn't move to face him. She was frozen, her hands trembling terribly. Her thoughts running a thousand miles a minute, completely shutting out the world around her. That is until someone gently grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn towards them. Her anxiety crept up from her chest to her throat, squeezing around her vocal cords. Keeping her from being able to make any kind of sound. It was like things were in slow motion. Leo was there, right in front of her. His turtle form towering over her. He looked so concerned and confused. He glanced from Master Splinter and then back to her.

His lips were moving, but she still couldn't hear anything. Only her thoughts. 'He's going to find out....he's going to be so angry with me...he's going to hate me for going behind his back....w-what...what do I do...'

Tears started to blur her vision, with the last bit of control she had, she ripped herself away from Leo and ran. Running faster than she ever had before. She was out of the lair and deep within the sewers before anyone could even say something. By the time she got to the surface her breathes were coming out labored, barely able to keep herself up right as she leaned against a building. Trying to desperately catch her breath while looking around, trying to figure out where she was. Tears streaming down her face when she spotted her apartment building across the street. Within a minute she was in her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Quickly locking it before going to every window and locking them.

When she was done, she finally collapsed onto her couch. Her lungs gasping for air as her body screamed in pain. Having been pushed past it's limits and then some. She buried her face into a pillow, struggling to calm herself down. Her cries coming out in broken sobs and pants. Everything hurt, both physically and mentally. It didn't take to long before she fell unconscious due to exhaustion and over exertion. Leaving her mind a slave to itself.  

~

By the time Y/N woke up the next day, it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. She could barely move, her body still completely worn by last nights events. She laid there on the couch for a few hours before her stomach forced her to get up and feed it. Though nothing sounded good. Even though she was hungry, she had lost all appetite to eat anything. After a while, she just forced herself to eat a bowel of cereal before returning to the couch. Turning on the TV, using it more for background noise than actually watching it as she was pulled back into her thoughts.

She stayed there the rest of the day. Hiding under her blanket whenever she heard Casey or April at the front door Ignoring them no matter what they said, even putting a book shelf against the door when Casey threatened to bust down the door.

As the sun started to go down, her anxiety started to settle in again. She knew Leo would be coming over. It was only just a matter of when. Her window was all she had to keep him out, and that wouldn't stand a chance against him if he really wanted to get in. Y/N knew this wouldn't last long, tomorrow Leo would know. Whether she liked it or not. But if she could hold out on the confrontation until tomorrow, then she damn sure was going to waste every minute she could.

The second the sun was no longer visible in the sky, there was a tapping on her window.  This caused her heart rate to spike as she buried herself deeper into her blankets. Snuggling further into the couch. Trying to make herself as small as possible. She could faintly hear her name being called out.

'It's him....he's here...' Anxiety swelled into her stomach once more as she tried to ignore his constant tapping. After a while it suddenly stopped and it was quiet for about ten minutes. Hesitantly, she untangled herself from her blanket and slowly lifted herself off her couch. Tip toeing to her room and over to the window. Peaking outside, looking for any sign of her beloved turtle. After about five minutes, she let out a sigh of relief. Relaxing as she unlocked her window and opened it. Taking in a breath of fresh air. Crossing her arms as she leaned against the window seal and closed her eyes. Letting the night breeze calm her down further.

"...Y/N..."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name, jumping back when she found Leo standing right in front of her. His face having been just inches from hers. Her breath picked up as she backed further into the room. Watching as he entered the room. His movements slow and gentle.

"Y/N wait...it's okay, I just want to know what's wrong." He spoke so softly, taking a step towards her.

She shook her head and took another step back. Looking down as she felt her back meet one of the walls in her room. Her heart racing.

Leo frowned as he watched her, taking careful steps towards her. He hated seeing her like this, and he didn't understand why. Why was she acting so afraid of him? "Y/N its okay, please down be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what's wrong.." He stopped once he was right in front of her, his body towering over her. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, frowning even more when she flinched under his touch. "Y/n please....its okay love...You can tell me, I'm not gonna be upset."

"B-but you are..." She choked out with a sob, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Y-You're g-g-gonna b-be so mad a-and hate m-me." She buried her face into her hands as she sobbed. Crying even harder when Leo pulled her into his arms.

"Love no, I could never ever be mad at you. Let alone hate you." He gently picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Sitting down and setting her on his lap as he comforted her. Gently rubbing her back as she cried into his plastron. Slowly getting her to calm down.

She sniffled as she stared at his neck, lightly tracing random shapes on his plastron. Unable to look him in the eye.

"Y/N....could you please tell me what this is all about.." He felt her tense up in his arms once again. "Its okay Y/N...I'm not going to be mad.." He gently kissed the apex of her head.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes before Y/N worked up the courage to speak. "I...I-I..." Leo didn't say anything, he just rubbed her back. Encouraging her to continue. "I went behind your back....a-and have been training with Master Splinter..."

Leo's eyes widened, most defiantly having not expected that. "What?"

Y/N whimpered and buried herself further into the turtle. "I-I k-know you said you d-didn't want me to start any serious training b-b-but..." Her voice closed off as tears started to well up in her eyes once again.

"But what love..?" He cooed softly in her ear. No trace of anger or betrayal was found in his voice. It gave her to courage to continue.

"B-but I c-couldn't just be satisfied with the basic training you taught me. It was all just simple techniques to be able to slip away and run...and...it wasn't enough." Y/N pulled away just enough to look up at him. "Yeah, those techniques worked whenever we were in a pinch but...having to leave you guys behind to fight the fight...." Her gaze dropped back down to his plastron, letting everything that she felt out. "Hopeless, worthless, and useless...the list can go on and on with how it made me feel. To know that I couldn't do anything more and that that's all you thought I would ever be capable of doing."

Leo's heart dropped as he looked down at her. How could he have done this, he had only meant to protect her from harm. But here he was, hurting her so much that she feared to tell him about something so small. He pulled her closer into his arms, nuzzling his face into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry.  You are capable of so much more than that. I never meant to make you feel that way." He gently kissed the top of her head once more. "I just....was afraid that once your started to learn how to fight, then it meant you were now really apart of everything that I want to protect you from."

"But I'm already apart of it Leo," She said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The moment I meet you guys, I became apart of your life. Whether I know how to fight or not."

He sighed softly, "I know....I just... "

Y/N nuzzled his cheek, "I know...."

They sat in silence for a while, just holding one another. Both lost in their own thoughts,

"If you'd like..." Leo said, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" She replied, pulling away enough to look up at him. Finally being able to meet his gaze without fear.

"I can help and train with you....I know how tough Master Splinter can be." He gave a gentle smile, resting his forehead on hers.

A smile pulled at her lips. "I'd really like that...and Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you..."

His smile grew, " I love you too."

[wordsturnintostories]

king of bangtan | namjoon

summary: Namjoon. Boyfriend. Recently bitten werewolf. Alpha. Kissing. word count: 2.4k note: okay I wrote this a long time ago, before I even knew bts and now i read though it again, going, “oh wow, this is basically Namjoon…” Did you see his instagram post in Vienna or where was it, with the one fan on weverse commenting how Joon has buffed up? lmao i thought this would fit so well. anyway, thank you to @taeshuworld for pointing out how well Woosung's Face goes with this. i also recommend listening to Wolf. warnings: fluff, werewolf-theme, shirtless Namjoon

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

It’s the third time today that your boyfriend stands (shirtless) before the full-body mirror in your room. It seems he’s discovered something and now he can’t stop checking up on it. It’s probably pointless to tell him now that you’ve been noticing it for a while (to be precise, ever since he was bitten). When Namjoon turns around, nervously glancing at you, probably to gauge your reaction, you shrug. Why is he so afraid of becoming more muscular?

“Don’t look at me”, you chuckle, “I will never complain.”

He turns around, giving you the real thing to admire. And you do, those wide shoulders with the extra neck space to kiss, the chest that has become your second pillow recently, those strong arms that provide comfort, protection, and joy. And you do wanna let him know. He shouldn’t be insecure about how his body changes. No one could have guessed becoming an Alpha would affect him physically so much but now that it does, you are determined to give him all of your acceptance and admiration. You beam at him and softly place your hand on the warm skin above his heart. It’s a simple touch but you love to offer it to him. So he can remember it forever like he does with some of the other spots you have touched him. Somehow, it’s really important to him to keep them. Maybe it’s a werewolf thing but it’s probably just a Namjoon thing.

When his face turns soft, you reach up, caressing his jawline and gently tugging at the soft strands of hair in his neck. He purrs, what a glorious sound. He only stops to place a kiss on your lips.

“Maybe I should have become an Alpha straight away”, he says.

“Why?”

“Well, it would’ve saved me all those hours at the gym, for starters.”

Laughter is bubbling out of you and his face lights up. He beams at you. Suddenly, he’s glowing, this bright happiness is all over his skin like a wrap-around blanket. It’s as if his emotions are pouring out of every pore of his body. Are all Alphas like this? You watch his lips as his mouth opens to laugh with you. He has fangs. Oh God. He looks hot. You can’t stop the blush from making its way onto your cheeks. Immediately, your mind presents to you a hundred different images of Namjoon grinning, and those fangs show every. damn. time. You wish you could just hide somewhere. You’re so not ready to admit what those fangs make you feel. One look into his eyes and you know he noticed. God, he noticed. Your head spins.

“What is it, babe?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Tell me”, he coos, voice husky. You wonder whether he remembers the first time he said those words to you. That night he had crawled on top of you and left you trembling. That night he had made you feel so bold you wanted to trick him, where you had almost kissed him, where you had almost done it because you had wanted to so bad. On his sofa. Blood rushing in your ears. Heart exploding. A raging amber fire burns in his eyes and you know he does. God, he does. He’s turned that memory into his weapon against you. It’s an understatement to say he’s trying to get you all flustered, to turn you on. Another to say it’s working.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Your fangs,” you breathe. It’s impossible to withhold information from him, especially now.

“Mhm,” he hums, giving his lips a delicious lick as he pulls you against him. He grins. There they are. He knows exactly how to get you to your knees. “What about my fangs?”

“They - you”, you breathe and weakly, you blush, “Joon, have mercy.”

Suddenly, he presses you backward, against the wall. His lips crash into yours with all that newfound boldness of his, completely stealing your breath. As promised, you don’t complain. You embrace what he gives and you give what you have, moving against him, using your hands to invite him.

It’s a loud kiss, his purrs and growls vocal love letters from his body to your soul. He has his big hands on your waist, grabbing for your back and moving you to closer to him as he blazes for all the skin you give him access to. You are rewarded with the soft tingle of his hair beneath your jaw as he works on your first hickey ever. You can’t help sounding needy when his tongue is there, licking and planting sloppy fires on your tender throat. Oh God.

His hands are even worse, lifting you up, slowly, so you can wrap your legs around him and you wonder why he’s never done that before. It’s like he’s hungry, like he hasn’t eaten for a long time and now he’s gotta taste you no matter what the cost. Love usually is a sparkling delicacy with him but it turns into an inferno now that he seems to have found a rough vein in himself. Your hands feel the heat on his bare torso. Namjoon moves back, finding your eyes and then he’s against your mouth, wild like his breath. His fangs give you shivers, sharp and sensational when they graze the side of your tongue. Your lips get to feel them too, their exhilarating pressure, their smooth solidness, when he starts nibbling on your bottom lip. He works you with a fire he’s never given you before. Your hand grips his necklace, pulling on it softly. The first second your boyfriend draws away, his tongue swishing over his pink lips, with a grin a hundred times better than what your mind had made up for you, you pull him back, arching your body into his and he growls. That’s the first time you open your eyes and grin, admiring the pink blush on his cheeks, on his throat. His eyes are glowing. You secretly wish you had that same amber fire to give back to him, just to show him how beautiful it is to look at while he is kissing you. He just stares into your eyes.

“I wasn’t done,” you breathe, going straight for his neck. Your body goes into an adrenaline rush when his breath hitches, when he shudders, especially when his heart misses a few beats under your fingers. As if his efforts flipped a switch in you. Yeah honey, I can do hot heavy mess too. You love the soft feeling of cheek sliding against cheek, of cheek against neck; it’s all perfect and rhythmic and you get to smell him as a bonus. Today, there’s perfume mingling with his body’s own scent, it’s all a swirl of woody and sweet, lemon and cologne. Giving attention to his face, you take his lips captive between your teeth and he moans your name as you run your nose along his eyebrows all the while keeping his face in your hands. It’s too precious to let go. Does he know that? You sigh when your shirt slips up and his biceps touch your bare sides. It’s all messy now, wild blood, wild everything as he’s got you and you’ve got him. His hips are dancing against your middle. He’s panting and his eyes are still blazing.

“I wanna - I wanna-” and you can feel something is happening because for a few moments, there is a new tension in his body, a powerful streak of energy. Namjoon shakes his head, his hair as he breathes heavily, as if he’s trying to shake something off. Your chest is still heaving for air and your fingers are shaky but they find his neck. Maybe that touch is the spark that set the explosion off. He trembles. A deep growl fills the entire room. His torso presses you against the wall with him in between your legs and a golden determination fuels him when his mouth hits your neck. It’s all instincts now. “I gotta-“ He almost can’t speak, it’s all low and growly and it gives you shivers. “Joon, do it,” you don’t know what will happen. Love, maybe. It’s Namjoon. It will be good. He’ll take care of you.

His lips press against your skin, his tongue joins. He bites you. Your hands grip him tightly, holding on. There’s a force that takes your body captive, that has it slack against your boyfriend. Total surrender and your head rolls against his shoulder while he keeps nibbling. Whatever it is, pain, ecstasy, exhaustion, you can’t keep your eyes open. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. Holy. There’s a clicking noise in his throat. When he looks back at you, he looks the proudest you’ve ever seen him. Must be some Alpha shit, you think as you give him a kiss. His pupils are dilated, as if he’d just drugged himself up on you. You would have had to swallow a giggle if all the excitement in your chest wouldn’t have you panting.

“You’re so good to me”, he hums, letting you down with a hazy grin. “You’re a queen.” His cheeks are red, as are his lips and his throat. Even on his chest, you can see traces of rough love. Was that - me? Holy. What is he doing to me?

“Then where’s my crown?” 

Breathing is difficult but you manage. His brown eyes widen, as if he’s just realized something important and he runs to the other side of the room. The barrier between you and the mirror is gone and your reflection stares at you. That’s even more insane; your hair is tousled as heck, where you’d imagined one hickey on your throat, there are constellations of them, and your shirt is totally messed up. Maybe becoming an Alpha had more to it than just physically growing and feeling more responsible. This was a whole new level of needy. Namjoon fumbles through the squeaky wooden drawers of his nightstand and returns with an ornamented paper envelope. Your name is calligraphed on it. Excitement is all over his sweet face when you open your hands for it but he hesitates. You feel a speech coming.

“Happy Birthday, love. I hope you like them.”

The first piece is a necklace. It’s the same necklace that he wears, the same one you’ve secretly admired so many times while he had been sleeping. The silver plate with the engraving looks so nice, you’ve always enjoyed feeling the smooth plate between your fingertips.

“How did you know I liked this?”

“You tug it every time we kiss. Now you can wear it and every time you feel down or lonely, you can touch it and think of me.”

“That’s the sweetest thing. Thank you. You’re the best, Namjoon, honestly.”

“You say that now.”

“Yeah, and I will put it in my phone’s calendar to remind me to repeat it any day you need to hear it. Any requests?” He chuckles. “No, I know I’m the best-“

You raise your eyebrows. “Getting cocky now, eh?”

“That’s not how I wanted that to come out. I meant, just you wait until you see the second gift.”

“Well, you better pray it’s great.”

He smiles at you and you pull it out. It’s a delicate silver ring with three white crystals worked into it on the top. They shimmer fierily in the sunlight that streams through the window. When you turn the ring over in your hand and the light hits the crystals at a certain angle, they light up in a hot amber, just the same amber as Namjoon’s eyes. You gasp, surprised. That’s a ring truly worthy of a queen’s finger.

“Where did you get it? Who on earth makes there?”

“Long story. I found it when we were on vacation in Italy. The day before, the boys and I did a tour of a castle that belonged to some duke back during the renaissance. The next day, we stroll through Florence and I saw this ring in the sun on a street vendor’s wooden table. It reminded me of the duchess’ jewelry and I bought it. I think the vendor gave me a discount but it’s real silver and if you’re wearing it, I would’ve paid every other penny I have to get it for you.”

“I will only accept this if you promise to be my king.”

“Well, technically, I’m your Alpha.”

“King of Bangtan.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. I promise.”

bonus:

With those words, you feel your body starting to tingle strangely. Namjoon doesn’t notice, from the way his eyes rove over the room, where he’d held you against the wall, where the kiss had started. You’re sure he’ll burn every moment of your kiss into his mind until it’s irreversibly stuck, until he’s sure it will never go missing. But something is missing, you can feel it deep inside, like an ache, like a letter written and sent but not returned. This thought tugs on your mind.

When Namjoon stands up, eyes fixed on your wardrobe where his clothes have taken home long ago, a sudden panic rises in your mind and strikes your legs. It’s an indescribable feeling, like you know you have to do a certain thing, but you don’t know what it is. It feels like ants are crawling in your chest and over your neck. You jump up, right after him. Stepping right up to him, the panic calms down but you still feel it.

“Joon, I-“

“Yeah, baby?”

Do it, do it, do it. Now!

You dive in for another kiss, pushing him this time. He’s surprised, takes the hit against the wall with a deep “ooof”. It only adds to your determination. And as if suddenly, there’s only one thing left to see, next to those red lips, next to those glowing eyes, next to the fire in his chest.

“I need to do it back, I can’t- Namjoon,” you’re surprised yourself at how you’re panting, so worked up about something you can’t even understand logically.

His lips pull into a grin and those fangs just - ugh. One shove and you’re there, feeling driven and bold with the way he’s supporting your back, the way you’re standing in between his muscular thighs. And then, he bares his neck. And your body tells you to go for it. To claim him. Just like he claimed you.

“I promise too.”

masterlist | moodboard masterlist taglist: @taeshuworld, @xmagicxshopx, @justanemptydream

[vento-di-fata]

Heilig - Kaminari Denki x OC

Hello everyone! This is my entry for @kazooli 's contest, for which I chose the following prompt:

While I love my beautiful tired boi, I decided to change the destination of the prompt to Kaminari Denki a.k.a my pikachu prince <3, for which I can write better and also I know better as a character.

Hope you like it!

Trigger warning: graphic description of panic attacks and depression, implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal thoughts and medication overdose

If you feel like any of these warnings may affect you, please refrain from reading further. I tried my best to portray my character's disability and her and Kaminari's struggles with mental health as realistically as possible.

The title is inspired by the song Heilig by Tokio Hotel. Yep I still like Tokio Hotel because I’m still in my emo phase since I was 7, sue me.

Heilig

It wasn't the first time it happened.

Actually, it happened so many times that Moe had gotten kind of used to it.

It had been a stable occurrence since her childhood, and so many time there were mornings when she would wake up and know that she couldn't do it that day.

First it was the weight on her chest, then the numbness that seemed to fill her head with white static noise, like the one made by her hearing aids that time she broke them.

Then, it was the whirlwind of thoughts and anxiety, that made her heart race and her hands tremble uncontrollably.

On those times, if she managed to get out of bed, she just plugged out her hearing aids and took her medications, then went to class like always, completely zoning out until it was time to go home.

If anyone noticed, no one ever asked, for there was nothing to say.

Nothing for her to hear.

On those times, Moe wondered if joining U.A. had been a good decision. She never knew about heroes like her

(Disabled, said her mother.

Broken, said the rest of the world.)

and on those times she thought that maybe there was a valid reason why.

On those times, the colorful line of pills disposed neatly on her bedside table that she had to gulp down every morning felt like a constant reminder that something was wrong with her, that she was flawed, not good enough because heroes shouldn't be like this.

But she still swallowed them, childishly telling herself that it was the last time, this time the pills would fix her.

But it never was.

With a sigh, Moe rolled onto her back and blindly reached for her phone, squinting her eyes as the light of the screen blinded her for a second.

11:30 am.

She overslept again. Fuck.

With trembling fingers she typed a message to her boyfriend Denki, asking him to come over in the afternoon, and her thumb lingered on the send button for a while.

He probably had homework to do and didn't have time to deal with her. She should probably just let him be.

Just as she stared blankly at the screen, thumb barely brushing on the button, a message from said boyfriend popped in the chat.

PikaDenki: Hey Moe-chan, do you mind if I crash at your place after school? I have homework and cookies! Plis I luv u babe <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Cloudy Freckles: I wanted to ask you the same thing lmao also cookies sound fantastic please tell me they're with chocolate chips

PikaDenki: Chocolate chips it is! See ya after school love <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 remember to drink something and take your meds <3 Love you fluffle puff <3

Cloudy freckles: Love you too Pika

Once she turned off the phone, the white static filled her head again. All she wanted was to go back to sleep and drown in nothingness so she would stop shaking, and the weight on her chest would disappear.

But Denki said she had to take her medications and drink water... she didn’t want to disappoint his boyfriend further, did she? She was already a disappointment as she was.

With that thought in mind, Moe forced herself to get up and do the things she was asked to do, but soon – too soon, right when she poured the pills in her hand and realized how easily she could take an extra pill and forget – she found her thoughts swirling in her head again.

“I can’t do this. I’m useless and weak and broken and weird and” The broken string of words that she slurred out, not actually hearing them because she didn’t have her hearing aids, was choked, breathless, waking an ancient terror that never left her body and soul.

Her hands felt cold and she let the pills fall down between her fingers to start idly scratching at her arms in an attempt to get some feeling in her frozen fingers, her eyes burning with tears, she felt so upset and useless and she couldn’t breathe, oh kami she couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t remember falling on her side, but the feeling of the floor beneath her and the throbbing of her head where she banged it helped her try to focus. But everything was blurry and her head was buzzing, she was so tired, she should probably have stayed in bed for a while longer. Sleep sounded really good right now...

She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

*

"Moe, wake up please. C'mon baby, you're fine aren't you?"

Denki cursed himself for being so stupid, he should have picked up something was wrong right when Moe skipped school: she never skipped unless it was really bad.

And when he went to her house and knocked he just assumed she had her hearing aids off. How could he have been such an idiot?

He gently patted her cheek, trying to get the girl to stir and wake up. When he saw her eyelids flicker and open slowly, grey eyes hooded by pale lashes, he breathed in relief and kissed her forehead. "Good girl sweetie, you're doing amazing." He praised and gently held her hands as she woke up groggily, blinking confused at him.

"Mhmh... Denki...?" Moe slurred.

Denki nodded and gently kissed her forehead. "Let's get you in bed okay fluffypuff?" He said, more to himself than to her, since she obliviously couldn't hear him. He helped her on her feet, legs shaking as a newborn foal as she clutched his hands tightly.

Once his girlfriend was safely lying on the bed, still looking pretty confused and lost, he sat beside her and tucked a strand of curls behind her ear, taking note of the angry red of her earlobes, as if she had been scratching them.

It wasn't the first time Denki found his girlfriend in a state like this, he knew about her anxiety and how it took an heavy toll on her life and health. More than once Moe had confessed to him that she felt like she was losing her mind every time she had a panic attack, the fact that it was always when she had her hearing aids off only made her more terrified because there were no sounds, nothing that could anchor her to reality.

With that thought in mind, he reached for the small box containing Moe's hearing aids on the bedside table, placing the other hand on Moe's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "C'mon Cotton candy, sit up for me?" He asked. "Let's put your hearing aids on, 'kay?"

The girl only blinked slowly at him, sitting up with his help and letting him put on her the small objects.

With a soft click, Moe's world was not silent anymore.

Wind outside.

The neighbor's dog barking.

Kaminari's breaths and his voice.

"Can you hear me, sweetcheeks?" She nodded. "Great!" He smiled and gave her a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better...” Moe’s words were still slow and slightly slurred, but she was starting to look more focused on reality and Denki internally took a breath of relief for this.

“Did you do what I asked? Drank a glass of water and took your meds?”

Moe frowned, lost in thought. She didn’t remember if she did it or not... she probably didn’t. she was taking her pills and they fell because...

God, she was such a disappointment, wasn’t she?

Denki noticed her confusion and the panic that she was starting to feel, and gave her a tight squeeze on her hand. “Hey hey, it’s not a big deal, okay? You can take them tomorrow. Now you need to eat some cookies and rest!” He declared. Cookies sounded really good to Moe and she perked up at the mention. “I have the ones with chocolate chips!”

In a matter of minutes, the both of them were safely tucked under a blanket, a bag of cookies on Moe’s lap as she laid her head against Denki’s shoulder and kept an hand on his chest, gripping lightly at his shirt as her boyfriend played with her hair and made stupid jokes. His other hand was gently tracing circles on Moe’s wrist, feeling under his fingertips the light rise of the scars he knew littered her arms.

In those moments he wished he could protect her always, not letting anything hurt her, much less her own mind that turned against her for no reason. He wished that Moe could always smile and laugh and be happy, like she deserved to be, and not be haunted by anxiety and nothingness.

Denki hated not being able to help Moe like he wanted to. He loved her so much, and it hurt to know he couldn’t do anything but try to be always here for her when it all became too much. He could just be there and hold her, try to distract her from the storm of her mind and hope it was enough.

“I can hear you thinking, Arashi.” Moe mumbled suddenly, munching on a cookie.

“Sorry, Kumo.” He kissed her forehead, smiling apologetically. She hummed contentedly and closed her eyes, a soft smile on her face.

He would have done anything to see her smile like this.

“du wirst für mich, immer heilig sein Ich sterb' für unsere Unsterblichkeit Meine Hand von Anfang an über dir, ich glaub' an dich du wirst für mich, immer heilig sein”

“To me you'll be forever sacred I'm dying but I know Our love will live Your hand above Like a dove Over me Remember To me you'll be forever sacred” – Heilig, Tokio Hotel

[uruhabuns]

Sensuous (Epilogue)

A/N: So I guess this is the end of Sensuous ;___; tbh!! At first, this series was just an idea I had and wanted to write (even though no one asked lmao) bc it was the beginning of my summer holidays, and ya girl (and all u closet fantasy hoes) needed some form of relief as soon as Jilleoseo was released HAHA. I wasn’t expecting this series to get so much love!! Tbh, I was so surprised when I got messages from people telling me they were excited for the next chapters :’) Thank you to all you guys who have read and supported this, those who have stuck with me from the very beginning and waited so patiently for the last leg of the series!! I’ve enjoyed every moment of writing this series, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading :’)

PS: Inseong said their next comeback will be even more sexy...what am I gonna do then......rip my poor cooch

Pairing: girl reader x sf9 members

Word Count: ~1.5k

No warnings!!

Prologue / Part 1 (Youngbin) / Part 2 (Inseong) / Part 3 (Jaeyoon) / Part 4 (Dawon) / Part 5 (Zuho) / Part 6 (Rowoon) / Part 7 (Taeyang) / Part 8 (Hwiyoung) / Epilogue

_____________

“Shit!”

You woke up to the burning sensation between your legs, and joints in your upper body. You didn’t know if you were able to get out of bed at this rate.

You then pat your hands over your body; your clothes were on.

Okay.

No one tried to fuck you…yet.

The exhaustion and abuse of your body to its limit had finally caught up with you. Just how the hell did you managed to get fucked by not one, but eight gorgeous men in one week? Was it planned? If so, why did they plan it so suddenly? Something seemed suspicious. Throughout your two years of knowing the group, none of them seemed like they wanted to touch you inappropriately.

However, you could remember each time with each member. You could remember how they made you feel in their own unique ways, how they hit every inch inside you, how they hit your spot at different speeds and angles, how they managed to leave your body completely used and fucked almost unconscious each time, and how all of them managed to make you cum until you were numb…each member was so different, from their sizes to their thrusting strength, yet the same in that each of them gave you so much pleasure. They literally broke you into pieces. Even just the memories themselves were enough to make you want more. Throughout the two years, you didn’t realise that you had this desire until they sparked it. Or maybe you did always want them to fuck you, but you just shoved those thoughts into a dark corner of your mind. Either way, they stimulated your body to places you have never been, so now you knew you didn’t want anyone else to handle you.

Your muscles felt like they had contracted overnight, and refused to adapt to your movements, so your limbs felt like they were stretched so far each time you moved. You didn’t know how you were going to go home in this condition, or how you were going to walk normally when your parents were around, or how you could hide the purple marks on your neck. If they found out you had slept with your best friend and seven of his group mates, you would get kicked out for sure.

“Fuck…” you hissed, struggling to heave yourself up from Dawon’s bed with your elbows. You bit onto your lower lip to prevent yourself from making any noises. The burning pain and soreness between your legs felt like it became worse with every degree you lifted yourself at. You guessed that’s what you had paid for in return for the most mind-blowing sex from eight guys in a week. You wanted to stay in bed all day and not move so at least you could walk properly, but you had to go home. You didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened in the past week, anyway.

“Need some help, baby girl?”

Your eyes shot open wide at the words, and you looked up to see the owner of the familiar voice.

“Y-Youngbin…” you managed to whisper.

The older male only smirked and held his hand out. You blinked before you took it with hesitation. He wasn’t going to fuck you again…right?

Upon observing your reaction, let out a soft chuckle. He gently held your hand, and slowly pulled your arm to help you sit up. You then carefully managed to slide out of the bed with his hand still in yours.

“I-I think I’m okay,” you squeaked before letting go of Youngbin’s hand to painfully limp your way out the door.

As soon as you stepped outside, you were greeted with Inseong gazing at you, biting his lower lip with a small smirk. His arms were crossed while his back leaned against the wall.

“Do you need some ice to help with that pain, baby girl?” he asked, slightly smugly. Shit. Your eyes widened as a frightened whimper left your lips. You turned the other way to walk somewhere away from him.

No, no, no…this can’t be happening…you thought to yourself. You then reached the bathroom to see Jaeyoon patting his face with his face towel. Upon seeing him, you rushed up to him, and wrapped your arms around his torso in the hopes that he wasn’t going to tease you like the two eldest members. “Oppa, help!”

Jaeyoon jumped slightly in surprise before turning around to see you. A small smirk formed on his plush lips at the sight of you. “You’re up early, baby,” he said as he pet your hair. Your eyes widened once more. He then leaned down to your ear to whisper, “You ready for another round?”

You immediately let go of your grip and began to step back from him. Sure, sex with him was the most amazing thing you had ever felt, but even if you really wanted to, you just couldn’t go for a second round. It was way too risky. “U-uh…I…gotta go.”

You quickly walked off without taking another glance at Jaeyoon. What the hell was up with these guys this morning? They seemed normal and treated you as they normally would (even after fucking you) during the other days.

You were too busy rummaging through your thoughts when you collided face first into someone’s broad back, letting out a yelp in the process.

The ash-blond male turned around to quickly grasp your wrist before you fell backwards. He then pulled you up to his chest, and held you close. The proximity between the two of you, the feeling of his hard muscles against your body, and his pet name for you made your heart feel like it stopped.

“So what’s it gonna be, princess?” Dawon asked smugly. “Am I gonna have to buy a new outfit for you, or will you use the same one?”

You only let out another squeak as you pushed yourself off him and out of his grip before walking off to the direction of the second bathroom as quickly as the pain would limit you. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is happening?!

You suddenly stopped in your tracks as you felt a hand gently cup your chin. You gasped, looking up at the owner of the hand, widening your eyes as you saw the familiar blueberry hair.

“Did you sleep well, ______? Daddy’s missed you.”

“No!” you yelped. That deep voice can’t turn you on again. You simply can’t give in to your lust right now. You immediately turned back to escape, but you were met with—

“With all that running, I think you’ll need that leash again, kitten.”

Your eyes were wide as you shook your head violently at the tall male, who only had a knowing smirk on his lips. You then dashed to the kitchen to hopefully find someone to protect you, but—

“So when are you gonna put on another show for me, baby girl? Shall I join you next time?” Taeyang said smugly as he was sitting on the counter.

“Fuck!” you hissed in surprise. Your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your mouth. You finally saw the pattern. Oh god. These boys planned this all along. When? Why? How?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a deep voice from behind you, making you freeze on the spot.

“If you still have that much energy even after I fucked your brains out just yesterday, we should go for another round. How’s that sound?”

You swallowed the burning lump forming in your throat. Taeyang only smirked and slid off the counter to walk past you. You then turned around slowly to see the boys gathered on the couches or on the floor in front them, staring at you as if they were ready to seduce you all over again.

Only then, when you faced the group, did you realise how many eight people really were. Only then did you realise that you had that many dicks inside you and ramming into your body. Some of them fucked you raw. Some of them had choked you. Some of them used your body to its limit. But the one thing they all had in common was that they all fucked you so well that you couldn’t walk properly the next day.

You let out a whine, dropping to your knees, then dropping to a sitting position with your legs positioned out to both sides of your body. What were you going to do after this? Will this just be a one-off thing and they would never fuck you again? Will your relationship with the boys change after this?

“But the real question is, ______,” Juho began, his chin resting on his knuckles as stared deeply into your eyes with his piercing gaze.

You swallowed another gulp. That spark of desire in your stomach had ignited once more. You felt your mouth starting to water again.

“What are you into?”