#ultimate gangster

[lusin333]

I, @Lusin333, have a Dell NVIDIA GeForce GTX 280 GPU (0X103G).

I will put this GPU in my crypto mining rig so I can mine more Bitcoin or some other cryptocurrency.

Thanks to Dell for giving this graphics card to me FOR FREE.

[mightydyke]

I love when characters are defined by a role that they're thrown into. When they have to play a part in a narrative. Maybe initially we think that's all there was to them, until we realise that actually they're so much more than two dimensional.

[orangemocharaktajino]

boss: but where's my credit for almost not kidnapping guy? :o

i specifically thought about not doing it

[troublewithvampires]

salvatore siblings mega post.

just realized i've never made a post talking about sal's siblings? wack.

anyway, i don't have drawn visual references for sal's siblings, but i do have like. approximations. these aren't completely accurate but they're definitely close. (picrew link)

sal has three siblings, of which he's the youngest: jesse burke, beth armstrong (formerly burke), and martin burke. in modern day, beth and martin are still alive, but jesse died in the late 1990s.

more info and approximate faceclaims and picrews under the cut! this is really fucking long, though, so no one is obligated to read all of this. it got out of hand very fast.

short summaries:

jesse was a stockbroker who was involved in a lot of white collar crime and helped establish some of sal's mob connections. he and sal were closer than the other siblings, who were pretty distant. after sal went missing, jesse investigated himself and found out he was murdered--shortly after, victor had him... eliminated.

beth is retired now, married to her long-time best friend and mother to three children, who each are adults now with their own children. she became a mother younger than she was ready to handle, but she was determined to do right by her daughter and make a good life for herself.

martin is an army veteran, having fought and lost a leg in the vietnam war. in modern day, martin is happy with his long-time romantic partner, a man named carson, and their six dogs. after sal disappeared, martin and beth became close again, talking after years of bitterness.

content warnings: non-graphic talk of drug abuse/overdoses, suicide, terminal illness, transphobia, and abuse.

jesse burke - 1934-1999 (died age 65)

(approximate faceclaim: eric stoltz) (age in picrew: 35)

jesse was very close with beth and martin when he was younger, but after their father's death he began emotionally drifting apart from the family. he never had much of a chance to bond with baby salvatore, but he did what he could to help out around the house.

from the age of 16, he was basically the man of the house, despite being only a teenager at the time.

still, the moment he could, he left home to attend university (studying finance and business), and he found it was a breath of fresh air. he had a lot more to worry about with his studies, but he felt like he could breathe for perhaps the first time. so while he stayed in touch with his siblings, he rarely, if ever, came home after he left to go to school.

very book-smart and charismatic, very good at finding the right people to be friends with and making sure to leave an impression on them. though he was very intelligent and a hard worker, his greatest skill was identifying the right people to mingle with and making the right impressions on them. truly a king of networking.

this charisma helped get him in the door with the right people to get his foot in the door in wall street, and by the 1970s he was working with a prestigious stockbroking firm. jesse got to live his best 'wolf of wall street' life, without a care in the world.

as an adult, he actually was on pretty decent terms with salvatore, unlike his siblings. sure, they rarely talked, but he really respected what sal was doing. it wasn't legal, sure, but they were both making names for themselves away from their family. they were both businessmen, and jesse thought that was all that mattered.

jesse also was pretty accepting of sal being a man. he didn't *get* it, sure, but he saw no reason to question it and never made a big deal about it one way or the other. his little sister was actually his little brother? oh, cool. well at least he's making something of himself, unlike the other two.

he was so impressed with sal, in fact, that he helped sal with networking. jesse is the one who introduced salvatore to mario gianette, aka nickels. he was the *in* sal needed to finally start working with the boss he worked with until he died.

in the mid 70s, sal completely cut ties with their mother and other siblings. jesse reached out to him after this, and the two had a drink together. they didn't talk much, but they enjoyed each other's company.

in the early 80s, sal introduced jesse to his closest associate, victor bonicelli. jesse and victor got along very well and started working very closely together. sure, jesse wasn't directly involved with any of the *super* illegal shit (in his words), but he helped keep the operation running financially.

when sal disappeared in the mid-80s, jesse was devastated--much more than he was when his mom passed the year before. he had a very public breakdown and was strongly urged by his bosses to take a break from work. for the first few months, he tried to use his money and influence to *find* sal, to no avail.

in the meantime, he ended up leaning a lot on victor. sal was victor's best friend, right? so they could grieve together.

a few years later, jesse discovered that victor was behind salvatore's disappearance. before he could do anything with this information, though, victor had him taken care of.

in the late 80s, jesse's firm was the subject of numerous criminal investigations into his mob connections. before he knew it, all of his business partners were turning against him to save their skin, and he became the scapegoat for all of the debauchery he and his associates had been up to for years.

jesse was arrested and spent ten years in jail, losing basically everything he had in the process. during this time, he wrote dozens of letters to salvatore--he knew sal would never read them, but the guilt for working with his brother's killer was eating him alive and he had to atone *somehow.*

when jesse was released in 1999 on parole, he just kinda... fell off the map. about a month later, he was found dead in a hotel room after an overdose.

beth armstrong - 1938-present (still alive)

(approximate faceclaim: jane seymour) (age in picrew: 32)

beth is the middle child, and she certainly acts the part. with an inferiority complex a mile wide, she's always been keenly aware of the fact that she's not as impressive as her siblings in many ways. she's not as nice as martin, not as smart as jesse, not as hard-working as salvatore. she was just beth.

beth has never been very family-oriented, but as the siblings' mother had to spend more and more time away from home to earn the money to care for them, she was often stuck caring for her younger siblings.

she began to resent this as she got older. she'd always been outspoken and fiery (how else would anyone pay attention to her, after all?), but she became doubly so during her teen years and into her early 20s. she threw herself headlong into activism, right around the beginning of second-wave feminism and the flower power movement.

beth still lived at home in this time, helping take care of her younger brothers and the house when she could, at least up until she was 23 and their uncle clarence took sal away and enlisted him to work with his mob buddies. at the time, beth was fucking pissed at her mom for allowing it, which led to them having an explosive argument one night.

beth said some things she regrets, calling her mom an irresponsible cunt who never should've been a mom, and anna fired right back--she told beth to her face that she didn't know the first thing about motherhood, so she had no room to talk. she was *nothing* and would always *be* nothing to the people around her unless she got her shit together and stopped being such a self-righteous little bitch. after that, they nearly stopped speaking altogether.

about a week later, beth left home, moving out to live with a friend for a few months before getting an apartment by herself. she was determined never to go back.

for a few years, beth took a few odd jobs to get by, never really settling into one career. she tried to keep in touch with her siblings, but jesse was an asshole and martin seemed to be turning the same way. as for sal... beth never really understood him, and she was fine with that. she never approved of the shit he was involved with, but she knew he didn't have a choice. i think beth pitied him, but there was a part of her that was bitter. sal was at least *something.*

(and in regards to sal being trans... beth never knew about that, really, and as far as she knew, he was a cis woman forced to dress as a man to make money for their selfish irresponsible mom.)

then, when beth was 26, she had a drunken one-night stand with a man named robert, which resulted in her getting pregnant. robert gave her no way to contact him, and she couldn't find him in the end to tell him about his baby.

she didn't know what to do, and for a time she spiraled, terrified of what the future held. she couldn't have this baby! she couldn't be a mother. she didn't want to be a mother. but it seemed she didn't have much of a choice--abortion wasn't legal at this point, and beth couldn't in good conscience put the baby up for adoption.

eventually, she moved back in with her mom--anna seemed eager to meet her grandchild, enough so to forget about the previous animosity. by this point, sal had moved out entirely, but beth didn't pay much mind to that. she figured he was fine, happy somewhere with their uncle. aside from the money he sent each month to support her and their mom, she didn't care at all.

before she knew it, beth was back where she was before, living with a mother she constantly butted heads with. however, this time around, her priorities were different--she had her own kid to think about. beth was determined to be a better mother than anna, no matter what.

her daugher, allison, was born in early 1965, a tiny girl who screamed and wailed from the moment she was born. and beth... was apprehensive, but she loved this baby. and as she held her newborn, beth promised her in a quiet voice that she'd give her a good life. allison would never grow up feeling unimportant--beth would make sure of it.

in the years that followed, beth began throwing herself headlong into being a family woman. the same passion she once threw into activism was now dedicated to making sure this was a healthy, stable household for her daughter. she didn't always succeed, though, and in her desperation to make things be okay, she drove the family apart. martin moved back in for a short time, and he grew angry and bitter at her constant fretting that they needed to be a family and she needed to take care of them. she couldn't understand why he wouldn't cooperate with her, and he couldn't understand why she cared so much.

when her mom got sick, beth became even more entrenched in being a caretaker for those around her. she and her mom never got along, sure but the idea of living in a world without her made beth's head swim. she was constantly stressed trying to keep things together, but still, they fell apart.

in the mid 70s, beth ended up in a screaming argument with salvatore about this very issue. she thought he was being selfish for not wanting to come home and see their mom before she died, even though beth had once been the same way. by the end of the conversation, beth was in tears, and she told sal to go fuck himself. he told her to do the same. and they never spoke again.

beth kept living with her mother up until 1977, when allison was 12. that year, anna passed away. about a year before that, beth met a man named joey at her job as a waitress, and they'd hit it off right away. he was the new cook, and he was the first person in a long time to treat beth like she really mattered. they were fast friends, and they had a close bond. thicker than thieves in every sense of the word.

so, when beth came to joey in tears after her mother finally passed, joey had no problem moving beth and allison and into his place right away. not as a romantic thing, but to make sure his friend and her daughter would be okay. they had nowhere else to go, after all, and he had the space and money to be able to help them out.

beth, joey, and allison settled into their new life together gradually, soon becoming a close little family unit. joey and beth's relationship remained platonic for years, but they co-parented allison very well. for all intents and purposes, they were her parents.

to make things easier, eventually joey and beth decided to get married. not out of any romantic interest in each other, but just to make sure they could take care of allison and be there for each other. while living with joey, beth was allowed to really be herself, not forced to take care of everything and keep a splintering family together against all odds. it was... freeing. beth had two more children with joey (a boy named scott in 1979 and a girl named rebecca in 1982), though no romance blossomed between them still. they were happy to coparent as friends, with no spark of anything between them.

so freeing, in fact, that beth decided to leave the past behind. she wasn't interested in the sinking ship that was her old family--she had a new family, after all. one that loved and appreciated her.

still, she wanted to do right by her siblings, so she did keep in touch with them, to some degree. she never spoke to salvatore again, but she did send him one last letter that their mother had written him, as an attempt to offer some kind of closure. she never heard back, but she didn't think much of that.

... until sal went missing one year later. beth was shocked when she heard the news, and she spent the evening bawling into joey's chest. though she hadn't spoken to sal in years and had written off her old family for the most part, she couldn't help but wonder what could've been... sure, salvatore was an asshole, but still! it put something into perspective for beth: even if her old family was shit, they were still family, and she didn't want to lose them.

in the aftermath of salvatore's disappearance, beth reached out to martin, and the two started talking. they caught up, and over time they began to mend their damaged relationship. it wasn't perfect, especially because jesse never returned any calls from either of them, but it was real. the road was rocky, but it was there. for the first time in decades, beth's family began putting itself back together.

in modern day, beth is still married to joey, has retired from a fulfilling career as the manager of a grocery store, and her three children are now all adults with their own children. she is loved, and she is happy. she's had a lot of hardships in her life, but she's satisfied with where she is now.

martin burke - 1944-present (still alive)

(approximate faceclaim: paul blackthorne) (age in picrew: 33)

the youngest of the burke siblings, and the one who was hit hardest by their father's disappearance. martin always idolized their dad, and he never had much time to process that grief.

as a child, martin was always very kind and pacifistic, but both of those qualities certainly became less prominent with time. the older martin got, the angrier and angrier he became, and by the time he was an adult, he was *deeply* cynical and bitter towards those around him.

almost the moment he turned 18, martin left home to join the military. he grew up on stories about his cousin, scott, who was (in his father's words) a war hero during world war 2. martin was never close with scott, but he wanted to follow in his footsteps regardless.

after all, dad always talked about how great scott was. maybe becoming the kind of man his dad could be proud of would make martin feel closer to the old man.

anyway yeah lmao martin fought in the vietnam war. he was never particularly patriotic, but he went into the war thinking he'd be a *hero* and could *be a great man* just like scott. that didn't happen, though--instead, martin was severely injured in his first battle, and soon after he was medically discharged and sent home.

for the first few months after he came home, martin lived with his mom and sister beth while he recovered. his left leg was completely fucked, and ultimately it had to be amputated. he had to re-learn how to walk and function, and he also had to deal with his family.

during this time, he interacted with salvatore a few times, and he grew to resent sal for the pure, simple fact that sal had an *out.* he didn't *have* to be there, because he had a *job* and a *life* and *friends* who loved him, and he could just fucking go and never come back.

one day, martin met a man named carson, a nurse at the local hospital who was charged with helping martin with his physical therapy. immediately, martin was a huge dick to him--what kind of man took a job as a fucking *nurse* outside of combat?

carson quickly put that bitch in his place and martin shut his mouth REAL fast haha!

eventually, carson and martin became very close, and over the course of several years, they fell in love. eventually, they moved in together in the late 70s. after that, martin mostly stopped talking to his mother and sister, though he keeps in touch sometimes. he's much happier with carson's family.

when sal went missing in the 80s, martin was... unsurprised, but he was definitely upset by it. for a good few weeks, he wondered what could've been if he'd stayed in touch. maybe he could've done something. ultimately, though, he decided to just... move on and not dwell on it too much. enjoy the moment with the love of his life.

he had similar reactions to the deaths of jesse and his mom--sure, it sucked, but he had to keep going. and at least he had carson to lean on, as well as other friends he made over the years.

carson and martin are like... that old gay couple that's been together for decades, married in all but name. they're bonded for life, and they're enjoying growing old together with their dogs. (they have six dogs total: bandit, roger, pirate, zeus, ziggy, and princess)

modern day martin is still a little jackass, but he's settled down. he's no longer as angry and bitter, and now he's just like. a sweet old man.

[anghraine]

Unrelatedly: in GW2, I needed a grandmaster chef (for multiple reasons, including crafting my mother's legendary), and the only character who had a slot empty was my stealthy, dagger-wielding thief who is 100% a spy/assassin for the Order of Whispers in my head.

She has many skills, okay.

[starry-sky-stuff]

I'm doing a rewatch of Boardwalk Empire and I'm really struck by the ambiguity of Gillian and Jimmy's conversation in 1x11 when he confronts her about Nucky's role in his conception (ie. the time when Nucky pimped out a thirteen-year-old to his boss to get ahead in his career). Gillian downplays what the Commodore did to her, downplays Nucky's role and makes excuses for him. The show doesn't offer any clear explanation for her motivation. Gillian's spent over two decades living on the goodwill of the men who hurt her most in the world. She had to be compliant, be obsequious, if she wanted Nucky to ensure she had a roof over her head, to keep her son feed, to pay for his schooling in the hopes he might have a better life. Gillian does not have the luxury of confronting Nucky or the Commodore, not yet anyway. But Gillian remembers what they did. She has neither forgiven nor forgotten. And proves it too, when she goads Jimmy into killing the Commodore.

So, if she's merely playing an act, why then does she keep it up in front of Jimmy. Is she so used to the character she's played that she can't tell what's real anymore? Or does she want to prevent Jimmy from getting revenge on Nucky or the Commodore? Gillian certainly knows that Jimmy would do it, but if they're dead she and Jimmy can't get anything more out of them. When Jimmy asks her if she knows what will happen when the Commodore die, I don't believe her when she claims she hasn't. Gillian knows the Commodore's got money, and she knows Jimmy's the only child he's acknowledged.

Because, when it comes down to it, Gillian's a survivor. She'll make nice with the Commodore if she thinks it'll benefit her and her son. She'll even play pretend with Nucky when she knows he killed her son.

But the most interesting part of Gillian's character is that her motivations are probably are mix of all of the above. She's manipulating Jimmy, but she's probably also fooling herself too, because it's easier to believe the lies she tells others than the harsh reality.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin. 

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there. 

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could. 

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house. 

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls. 

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you. 

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him. 

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.” 

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase. 

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors. 

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different. 

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on.  He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint. 

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you. 

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.” 

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you. 

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him. 

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted. 

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg. 

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you. 

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself. 

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake. 

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”  

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his. 

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills,  although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars. 

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.” 

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted. 

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom. 

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice. 

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle. 

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress. 

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure. 

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting. 

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away. 

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next. 

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added. 

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed. 

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant. 

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?” 

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded. 

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further. 

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect,  “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?” 

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress. 

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab. 

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics. 

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly. 

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you. 

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him. 

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you. 

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out. 

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over. 

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.” 

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff. 

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.” 

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened. 

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

[rangpurcity]

Antim Review: The story of Police Vs Gangster is final, Salman-Aayush's style is strong

Antim Review: The story of Police Vs Gangster is final, Salman-Aayush’s style is strong

Antim: The Final Truth Review: Bollywood superstar Salman Khan has once again come on the big screen to entertain the audience. That too with his brother-in-law Aayush Sharma. Ayush Sharma and Salman Khan starrer ‘Antim: The Final Truth’ has been released on the big screen. For a long time the audience was waiting for this film. Among the many reasons, one of the biggest reasons is the appearance…

[ozzgin]

Girl I love Daitou but I'm ngl I need more of Yazuya😭 if you can, can you write headcanons about him please? I'd appreciate it thank you <3

I was wondering if he’d end up mentioned at some point haha. Most definitely I can. I might just turn this into HCs for both of them, since the story parts so far didn’t have much romance.

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader Headcanons

Ultimate dating guide and palate cleanser featuring the gangster boys (Kazuya and Daitou). For those that have been left hanging for proper romance.

Main story: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tags: @swagbucksjester @lucienbarkbark @moonieper @nu-vino @vee-love @tamaki-simp @pinkazelma

Kazuya

Kazuya was raised in a brothel, surrounded by women, so he is much more knowledgeable than the average man when it comes to feminine matters. Similar to someone who grew up having sisters, you can talk to him about anything and everything and not only will he be empathetic towards your problems, but he might offer tips and tricks you didn’t even know about. Not too shocking when he’s already heard multiple variations of whatever is bothering you.

The downside to his upbringing is that intercourse has always felt terribly transactional to him. He has a hard time associating it with intimate relationships. He will flirt a lot with you, but despite all the sexual innuendos, he won’t actually do anything until later in the relationship. He struggles with the irrational worry that sex will somehow taint the quality of your bond, making it feel cheap. Dating you has helped him realize that such things can be done out of love as well.

He is extremely affectionate and well mannered when dealing with you. Which may sometimes cause you to forget there’s a reason him and Daitou are good friends. While he isn’t as ill-tempered as his younger self, it doesn’t take much to anger him still. It’s a rare occurrence for you to witness it, but when he has it out for someone, he nearly matches Daitou in ruthlessness. He's very prideful and protective and will not hesitate to crush whoever challenges him or messes with you.

If you have a group of (girl)friends, you can confidently bring him with you with the only risk being that he’ll steal your spotlight. He can charismatically slide his way into any kind of conversation and you can hardly believe that this is the same man cracking gross jokes over his latest murder to his fellow criminal buddies. You might consider him a social chameleon, having no trouble adapting to any environment.

Smokes like a chimney and you have to slap the cigarette out of his hand sometimes because he’ll just light one up anywhere (including your bedroom).

Now this one is for the ones that are into it: God forbid you accidentally call him Daddy because he’ll ride that high until the end of time. He loves the idea and will tease about it with every opportunity. “Terrible weather today. Should Daddy drive you to work instead?”, or “Is that any way to talk to Daddy?” for when you’re out in public.

Daitou

One neat detail about being with Daitou is that you get to see a lot of things you took for granted in a new light. Whatever you assumed was a common experience for everyone, like having a picnic or going to the amusement park, is utterly foreign to him. He was raised by the Yakuza and barely interacted with anyone before meeting Kazuya; civilian past times were never presented to him. So you get to witness his shocked and delighted expression as he tries all these things with you.

Thankfully you don’t have to worry about teaching him the…intimate aspects of a relationship. Kazuya has that covered. And Daitou seems to be a rather fast learner, because he’s incredibly gentle and careful with you. Part of it is due to his own fear of messing it up. He’s only ever been good at breaking and killing people. Despite that, he loves you so much. He has to be the best boyfriend for your sake. Surely these hands of his can do more than just damage.

He might actually be a little too eager to learn the ropes. More than once you’ve walked in on him reading a graphic manga and nearly choked, mumbling an apology for interrupting his…activity. He’ll look at you with a confused expression, completely unbothered and wondering why you’re so embarrassed. He was flipping through the pages for ideas, given he’s never had any kind of experience himself. Ah. That explains the random kinky gestures he’s started doing without shame or doubt. You’ll have to do some tweaking in the near future.

This may come as a surprise, but Daitou is exceptionally good at household chores like cleaning and cooking. Registering with the Yakuza involves a mandatory apprenticeship of several years where you do menial tasks for your higher ups. Additionally, the time he served in jail has left him with a lot of discipline and organization. Somewhere between adorable and comical is how you’d describe the sight of him kneeling on the floor and carefully folding the kitchen towels while waiting for the stew to simmer.

Daitou isn’t exactly what you’d traditionally call jealous. His only frame of reference is Boss, thus he will treat you with the same kind of loyalty and dedication. You wouldn’t expect a mere nobody to walk up to the Head of the Family, so anyone approaching you will, similarly, be violently kept away until their intentions are clear. You are his most prized possession, after all. He’d do anything for you.

[rizsu]

geto, above all, will do anything for his little girl. whether it's spending hundreds on a ridiculously large bouncy castle or a miniature designer bag. whichever fits her wants at best, she'll get it. but there's just one peculiar thing geto finds himself not being able to give her: the answer to her question.

with every ounce of his attention focused on the teriyaki chicken, he tries to quietly prepare a simple meal for dinner. right now, you're participating in your daily naps which lead to daddy-daughter alone time. a four-year-old girl keeps him company during the hard times without your presence.

if only geto knew how many questions a child can throw at him under a minute. he responded to most of her questions automatically, however, there was just one particular question that rendered him answer-less.

"daddy, why do you like mommy?" a harmless question. it doesn't reek of any deeper meaning nor was it meant to throw geto into a spiralling abyss. but why does he like you? when did he fall in love?

he wonders whether it was because you looked at him up and down as if he said the world's most offensive thing or maybe because you accidentally slapped him when he snuck up on you — actually, he vividly remembers and will continue to be embarrassed by that.

it all happened like this: you were waiting for the vending machine to deliver your snack. obviously, you were minding your business, but someone else wasn't. it took nothing but a left turn for geto suguru to stop in his tracks. as if mischievous music had been cued, geto smirks to himself. he has discovered his plan and his victim. no, he doesn't know you, nor do you know him. he's just very, very bored and needs entertainment.

geto sneaks his way to you. his posture was oddly cartoonish for his age: large, quiet tiptoe steps, hands brought up to his chest, eyes squinted for extra focus. according to the getology sugurist chronicles, one must imagine themselves as silence to achieve ultimate silence. real gangsters move in silence, they say.

"hey—" his sentence was unfortunately cut short. the sudden physical contact against his face left him breathless. he dares for whoever slapped him to not — oh!

is this what they call romance? "first love at sight" or whatever the hell satoru said? whatever it is, he's blushing. geto didn't expect such a beautiful, majestically shocked, and a tad bit disgusted lady to be bestowing him with her gaze. right now, as of this moment, he feels like saying, "haha, no girl has ever hit me before," but he won't. he has his own limits for cringing.

"sorry, i got startled," you apologized, reaching your hand out to soothe his cheek.

as if it's a default reaction, geto steps back. "don't worry, it's okay."

"please, let me treat it. it was my fault," you insisted.

"no, no. i'm okay, really."

sighing, you hand him the snack you ordered from the vending machine. "then take this."

and from there, the story of his love with you became history.

whirling himself out of the flashback, geto redirects his attention to his daughter. truly, he doesn't know what exactly made him love you. from the slight crush to marriage, geto's fell in love over and over. there's not just a single moment that hooked him to you. it was just you. not a moment, not a memory. just you. but of course, he isn't going to get sentimental with his little girl!

choosing to go with your first encounter, he answers her, "your mom slapped me and i immediately found her attractive."

"oh.." a confused look dawns the four-year-old. her head tilts to the side, eyebrows furrowed with lips twisted to the side. is daddy crazy? she can only wonder to herself.

geto's amused by her reaction. her confused look is replica to yours — kind of makes him miss you, if he's going to be honest. but as stated in the getology sugurist chronicles (2), one mustn't awaken the slumbering mother hen. he learnt from experience.

[lusin333]

I, @Lusin333, have a Gigabyte NVIDIA GeForce GTX 460 (GVN460OC1GI).

I will put this GPU in my crypto mining rig so I can mine more Bitcoin or some other crypto.

Thanks to Gigabyte for giving this GPU to me FOR FREE.

[sprintingowl]

Picaresque Roman

I'm a fan of the Japanese ttrpg design scene. My first non-DnD game was Golden Sky Stories, and I really click with the prevalence of d6s and oneshot-oriented play.

However, my ability to speak/read Japanese is so immensely bad that it changed the trajectory of my life, so I generally have to keep my fingers crossed and hope for translations of the systems I'm excited about.

Hence, when Picaresque Roman came out in English, I scooped up a copy as fast as I could.

Picaresque Roman: A Requiem For Rogues is a competitive pvp tabletop rpg. Probably the closest equivalent to it is werewolf/mafia, but it's not that exactly.

The broad premise is that you're criminals in a hidden city and you're working together in an uneasy truce to take down a big juicy target. All of you are ultimately in it for yourselves, and one of you is a traitor---however there's no mechanic that lets you kill other characters.

Instead, you can gather information (everyone has info cards, which include things like their traitor status), forge truces (or force truces), and shake down each other (or the target) for cash or victory points.

It's a full-fledged rpg, with classes and skills and an action economy, but everything happens in little vignettes. You pick an action, you roll or talk, and that's your turn for the cycle.

It's tightly designed enough that you could play Picaresque Roman without any roleplaying at all and it would still be fun, or you could put a bit of flourish on every action you take and play out quick scenes when you make a truce or rob your target.

I think this might be one of those games where all it really needs is a box and a board and it'd cruise right past people's hesitation around roleplaying and become as popular as Gloomhaven. As is, I think it's a *good* rpg for introducing other people to rpgs, especially if they already vibe with gangster dramas, Guy Ritchie movies, the Yakuza series, or stuff like Black Lagoon or Akudama Drive.

[moralesluvr]

omggg pls do miles 42 with a daughter (preferably a baby) !!🥺

daddy's little princess ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: husband!dad!earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: you come home from work to your two favorite people bonding with each other ♡ warnings: mentions of murder..pretty sure thats it ♡ a/n: anon don't play w me this is convincing me to have a baby ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOUR HUSBAND LOVED HIS TWO GIRLS more than anything. That being you, of course-- his wife, along with your beautiful daughter Aaliyah, who had just turned one a couple days ago. Ever since you had become pregnant and he asked you to marry him, he's only had a soft spot for you and your little one.

Today, unfortunately, your boss called you at six in the morning to inform you that you were needed in the courthouse immediately, for whatever reason. While your husband was out doing whatever 'gangster' stuff he pleased in your teenage years, you had went through college and bagged a couple degrees in forensics and law. Miles had stopped being the prowler when he found out that you were pregnant, the ultimate fear of putting his daughter in danger causing him to pick up a well-paying job that allowed him to work from home. So here he was, your little girl laying on his chest as he watched you get ready. He carefully sat up, slowly bouncing her on his shoulder so that she wouldn't wake. He whispered, "Do you have to go? Tell that lil boy that today was your day off."

You giggle, slipping on your work pants, "He isn't some 'lil boy', Miles, he's my boss. And I wish I could stay, but apparently it's a really important case and they need the best of the best."

"Oh, so you sayin' you that girl, hm?" He whispered, rubbing your daughter's back when he heard her coo. You giggled, slipping on a white button up and undoing the top three, a black blazer accenting the plain blouse. You grabbed your purse and keys and headed over to your husband and beautiful daughter, kissing her on her forehead, "I guess so. I should be back by three or four, depending on how many people this person decided to slaughter."

"If you ain't home by four, I'll be the one up in that courthouse." Miles warns, but his lips stretch into a smile as he gives you a quick kiss on the lips, "I love you. Be safe."

You nod, "You gonna be okay with Aaliyah? Lately she's been fussy."

"This is literally my daughter, remember?" Your husband remarks jokingly, "She'll be okay. I got her, hermosa."

"Mkay." You suck your teeth with uncertainty, "Love you both endlessly."

And with that, you were out the door.

For the first four hours that you were gone, everything was a breeze. Aaliyah would let out an occasional cry or whine when she was hungry or needed to be changed, but she didn't start really acting up until about one 'o clock, where she was screaming so loud, Miles was sure that she had damaged her vocal chords beyond repair. He tried everything he possibly could- playing with her, trying to put her to sleep, feeding her, and nothing was working.

Finally, he just sighed, picking her up and holding her up to his head. He bounced her, "What's the matter lil ma, huh? Why're you cryin'? Is it cause you miss mommy?"

That statement earns a cry.

"Yeah...I miss her too." He sighs, placing your daughter on his shoulders as he holds her hands with his own, making his way to the living room. He then sits down and places her next to him, "Okay, if you stop cryin', then we can have some ice cream and watch some of mommy's TV shows that she doesn't let us watch. I'll let you pick, but you can't tell, okay? How does that sound?"

He knows that realistically, your daughter can't make out half of what he's saying, but he finds it hilarious when Aaliyah gives him a nod, her cries slowly started to silence. He smiles and hurriedly runs to the kitchen to fix one bowl of small strawberry ice cream and one bowl of vanilla. He grabs a small spoon and runs over to your daughter, who's sucking on her tiny fists angrily. Miles eyes her, "No, baby, look- here's your ice cream."

He feeds her a spoonful and she immediately gives him a toothless grin, "Yummy!"

"It is, isn't it? It's bussin'. Can you say bussin'?"

He laughs when Aaliyah just gives him incoherent noises. He then turns on the TV and clicks 'Real Housewives'. Was it necessarily appropriate? No, but then again, the girl was one, so as long as it stopped her screeching, it was good to go.

Before the two of them knew it, you were home, walking through the front door and expecting your husband and baby girl to be up and rowdy. Instead, you saw Aaliyah resting on Miles' chest, his head hanging off of the couch's armrest. Two bowls of ice cream were completely empty with spoons inside of them, licked completely clean. The muffled sound of your favorite show played aloud. You smiled and kicked off your flats, grabbing a blanket from the linen closet as you slid next to your husband. You felt him wrap an arm around you sleepily, "Mami?"

"I'm here." You smiled, snuggling into your lover's side as your hand ghosted over your baby's thick hair. You heard Miles mumble against your ear, "I love you."

And you replied sweetly, eyelashes batting as you felt the opiate of sleep undertake you,

"I love you more."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles

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[reasonsforhope]

"Fencing offers a ray of hope to young people living in Nairobi's poorest neighbourhoods.

Despite a lack of equipment, the sword fighting sport is growing in popularity in Kenya.

They cut a striking group as they wander through Huruma in their pristine white outfits.

These young people are heading for their favourite hang-out spot: the Tsavora Fencing club at the local community centre.

The street becomes their arena as they parry and riposte in front of passers-by.

This is not just a hobby for them: it's a force for good in their lives.

Fencing has helped carve a path away from crime, drugs and other social pressures.

"I used to be a gangster," says Mburu Wanyoike, who is now a coach for Kenya's National Fencing team.

"I was in crime and crime makes you feel isolated. It actually puts you in a place where you are isolated, making you feel depressed, having stress and I chose fencing as a way for me to escape out of the hood and escape that lifestyle."

His journey from delinquency to fencing coach and senior athlete in Kenya's national team has been transformative.

Inspired by the personal tragedy of the death of two friends, Wanyoike pursued training and education in South Africa, ultimately founding Tsavora Fencing in 2021.

Tsavora Fencing has made significant strides.

The team has produced 15 talented fencers who have earned spots in the national squad, with plans to represent Kenya in the African Olympic Qualifiers in Algeria this year.

However, challenges persist, particularly regarding the affordability of fencing equipment.

"Sometimes it is tough when it comes to competing with well-equipped international countries that are well organized, so what we do is just to move on with enthusiasm and obsession. The fact that we don't have the equipment, the limited ones we have, we use them. We don't complain that we do not have equipment, we just use what we got and put in the obsession and the enthusiasm and the passion combined, that's what we do, we fence," says Wanyoike.

Tsavora Fencing Mtaani, an initiative under Tsavora Fencing, offers mentorship and training in fencing to the youth of these impoverished neighbourhoods, shielding them from the dangers of their environment.

With 45 members, most of whom are students, the team serves as a beacon of hope in the community.

Participants are required to become disciplined and put on integrity.

"Initially I had bad company at home but now that I am in fencing, it has kept me busy and now it is a better option for me because I feel happy doing it," says Jemimah Njeri, a 17-year-old member of Tsavora Fencing.

"I cannot imagine myself without this sport because it has kept me very busy. In my area many girls have become teenage mothers and that is not a wonderful life," adds 16-year-old Allen Grace...

As Tsavora Fencing continues to thrive, fuelled by the determination of its members and the support of the community, it stands as a testament to the transformative power of sport in, even the most challenging environments."

-via Africanews, April 1, 2024

[ncteez]

Menace (m.yg)

When you learn of a hostage within the confines of the abandoned apartment building downtown, you weren’t expecting it to be Min Yoongi, the most wanted man in the country by gangs and policemen alike.  or the one where yoongi wasn’t prepared to be stuck in a situation with his own enemy, nor was he prepared to be kept alive by and ultimately infatuated with one that calls herself Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend. 

ao3 | m.lists | leave feedback and reblog to give gangster yoongi a boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 11k

PAIRING― gangster!yoongi x afab reader

CONTENT― yoongi is mad that he has to be submissive sexually, smut, grotesque descriptions of blood and gore, food mentions, you’re still really soft despite being surrounded by killers. FYI: the use of the word brother in this fic is not indicating that the characters are blood related.

SIDE CHARACTERS― namjoon as the leader of a gang and also your boyfriend, jungkook as a fellow gang member on your end. 

WARNINGS― namjoon is fucking awful, yoongi is a lil mean but still a big softie, intense descriptions of starvation, torture methods, and broken fingers, mentions of suicide, mentions of r*pe (in passing), mentions of killing methods like drowning, stabbing, shooting, catching on fire. fr, this fic is very unsavory but they still fuck so, take that as you will. 

NOTE― listen. this started as a different idea and ended as this so, fr,  don’t even read it. if you do, just be aware that I am not responsible for the content you consume, i’m just responsible for being down bad enough to write it :) if you send me an off hand message you will be blocked for not knowing how to avoid content you don’t like. bye  (p.s. we are just gonna pretend that people do not need to use the bathroom in this fic bc im not about to find a work around to let this man relieve himself. no piss or shit will be mentioned in this fic or in any of my fics ever. thanks.) 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags :: pain, making out, frottage, biting, dirty talk, mocking, uh….getting turned on by the idea of Namjoon dying, unprotected sex, cream pie, mentions of eating pussy, mentions of multiple orgasms

~

The leaking ceiling was somehow nicer sounding than the one in his apartment, and his bruised ribs feel less painful now that he’s laid here for three days on the cold and molded floor. Plenty of time to heal, plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to build up a distinct type of rage within his body. 

If he hadn’t made that tiny mistake, he would be at the shop surrounded by faces that are sworn to protect him. He would be swimming in money, women, and eating only the finest delicacies this city has to offer. But no, he had to trust the wrong fucking person. 

It was impressive actually, that the man going by the name of “John” managed to slip through the cracks. Yoongi grew fond of him quickly, especially with how eager the newcomer was to kill and maim not only alongside him, but for him without a single doubt. 

He should have known that he was experienced, especially with the way he killed, with the way he drank, with the way he fucked every woman accepted in the confines of the hideout. He should have known that he was in a gang already, and that said group had been out to get him for years.

Jungkook was his real name. A man who had been given endearing nicknames from both himself and other high-ranking men within this gang. He answered most to the name of “Jojo”, looking Yoongi dead in the eye with vicious intent and loyalty. He was a good liar, better than himself, apparently.

Yoongi really messed up, learning the truth only when he was met with Namjoon, face to face and battered up black and blue before being restrained and left in this unknown location. Naturally, there is a type of rage within him right now that could kill a large sum of men in one breath. 

Unfortunately, he can’t. His wrists have been bound in the same position for three days, and he has still been unable to unbind them. His legs are numb from the stomping, but still working through the intense pain of his attempts at slithering across the floor to find a new spot on the cold ground. 

The room is empty, there is nothing save for a chair in the corner and a doorknob that remains locked. There is only a single window, both the walls and floor are concrete and cinderblocks, and the only sound he’s heard since his last broken finger cracked through his ears, is the sound of that fucking water dripping. 

He lifts his head, only to drop it back to the floor in a huff. Not quite in a sound of defeat, but more so a sound of frustration. Surely the men who did this have already been killed, surely his loyal friends are searching for him. Surely–

A new sound. 

Yoongi can barely comprehend hearing something other than the slow and consistent drip, drip, drip of the ceiling leaking just a few feet from him. He’s grown weak within the three days he spent here, delirious even. No food and only those very drips of water to quench his sore and dried out throat. That sound is familiar though, and his drowsy eyes can hardly make sense of it. 

Then another new sound. Something clicking. Echoing through these empty walls and meshing with the two other sounds, creating a new song in his head that somehow seems like bliss. 

He thinks hard about the tune in his head, wondering if it’s similar to a song he knows, or if he’s just going insane from the feeling of his stomach both healing and starving. It is too much sensation for him, as he curls up in a pathetic little ball of a person and wonders what the others would think to see him like this.

He lays there, thinking about those sounds becoming louder and louder before his eyes shoot open in realization.

Those are footsteps.

An immediate headache hits him when he forces his body up, sitting uncomfortable on the floor with his arms still twisted behind his back. He stares at the door in wait, wondering if it’ll be his brothers bursting through, or an enemy. 

When that door opens though, his face twists similar to the way it did when he was getting held down and his fingers snapped to the side. 

“F-” he tries to say upon seeing Jungkook for the first time since it all went down, but his throat is too dry to speak and he coughs instead. 

“Happy to see me?” Jungkook smiles, stepping to the side to reveal another person with him. 

Yoongi glares, not paying attention even the slightest to the person standing just behind him. That clicking sound matched her shoes, so pristine against this dirty floor. He doesn’t dare speak again, as his eyes trail down to the gun in Jungkook's hand, and then shift to the side at the plastic bag in her hand. 

He can make out a bottle, and possibly, food. He won’t grove for it though, no. 

~

“Damn, you guys really fucked  him up. I never thought you actually caught him.” You smile in an uneasy way, walking back alongside Jungkook and making your way out of the building. 

“Told you we got him. Namjoon seemed really pleased, you think he’s finally going to let me into the circle?” Jungkook’s shining eyes somehow seem innocent with that question as you look at him. 

“If he wasn’t fond of you, he wouldn’t have let you escort me here,” You start, lowering your sunglasses from your head to your eyes to avoid the bright sunlight once you step outside. “He would have brought me himself. You’re already in.”

“You certainly complained enough wanting to see, I was shocked he even let you this time, even more shocked that he asked me to bring you.” 

Jungkook smiles again, wanting to pat himself on the back for his hard and dedicated work to Namjoon. He’s a harsh man but one that he wants on his side nonetheless. If this is going to be his life he’d rather be sitting in the room drinking expensive liquor than out running the streets and committing petty crimes. 

This was his deal and he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t fuck it up again. He was very nearly kicked out, and by kicked out, he means killed by Namjoon himself. Why? Well, as experienced as he is at killing, fighting, and being an asshole, he wasn’t too experienced with smuggling substances across country lines. 

He got it easy though, thankfully being caught by one of them that resides within the government factions. Then again, that man ran straight to Namjoon and complained on his name, stating that they were all at risk of being caught if it wasn’t for the nim-witted officer he was stationed with that night. 

Started off well enough, Jungkook coughed the wrong way and his hands shook slightly. The officer immediately wanted to search the vehicle. Thankfully, one of theirs took over, and what did he find? Exactly what was he knew would be there.

Namjoon was pissed at the situation. Hauling Jungkook in as if he were one of their hostages, towering above him on the floor and tipping his head back with the heel of his expensive boot. 

“What should I do with you now?” Namjoon said to him, huffing in a gutteral way out of frustration. “You’re telling me you can kill three men without breaking a sweat but you can’t get through a security check without shivering in fear?!” 

Jungkook knows better than to speak, he simply nods. 

“You’re lucky it went down the way it did, and you’re lucky your cousin put in a good word for you.” Namjoon continued, crouching down to Jungkook’s level on the floor and looking him in the eye. “If you fuck this one up, you’re done.” 

Honestly, he couldn’t believe the kindness Namjoon gave to him. He’s known for having a temper, and he’s known for being unforgiving, but he got a second chance, and he wasn’t going to fuck that up. 

That deal was to run off and act much like he did while trying to smuggle those drugs. Be a puppy for another gang, get close, get in with the crowd, and then get Min Yoongi. The man who killed Namjoon’s closest brother  some four years ago. His grudge never left, and unfortunately, Yoongi was very nearly untouchable. 

Jungkook did his duty, and now, he’s in. The girlfriend of Namjoon himself said so and with that, he can’t help but feel proud when he sees that man suffering in the room alone. He can’t help but be happy as he escorts you back to Namjoon. Truly, he can’t help it. 

~ 

“We can’t just starve him.” You argue another three days after you last saw proof of the man confined in that abandoned building. 

“This is why I forbid you from seeing the hostages. ” Namjoon tries not to argue with you, but it’s gotten to the point that you really just need to sit down and shut up about it. “He killed the only other man I could trust, and you want me to give him a fucking menu?” 

“Well, no but,” You start, but Namjoon cuts you off. 

“That’s enough. If you’re so worried about him tell Jungkook to swing by with some dog food.” 

You look to the floor with a short nod, knowing for a fact that this is just the way it goes. You figured your boyfriend would want to strangle the man with his bare hands rather than let him rot away slowly. There’s too many opportunities for Yoongi to be found there, and far too many variables in the situation. The least he can have is a meal before he dies, right? 

Then again, you know you’re quite soft despite the lifestyle you live. Min Yoongi is not a good man, but he is still a man. You’re a bit curious about him too. He was kind of cute even as he sat on that floor battered, so those rumors about him being easy on the eyes were true. Not that a scale of attractiveness really matters, considering he’s killed people from this family with a smile on his face. 

You think hard that night, alone in bed as Namjoon probably mingles around the club he recently took control of. Imagining how awful the hostage must feel, all alone in the dark. It  has you thinking a bit too hard about what it means to be human. You know where that apartment building is, and you know where the nearest convenience store is. Jungkook already knows you tried to feed him once and it didn’t work (because Yoongi kicked it across the floor out of spite.), so you’re unsure of how it would go down if you went alone.

Still, it’s not like you’d be in any danger, not when you grab one of the guns and slide it into an empty purse. 

~

Arriving at the building feels scarier than it did when Jungkook was with you. It’s dark, and you can hear creaking as the wind picks up and rain begins to fall. Still, you take a deep breath and rush inside with another offer of food. 

You follow your footsteps from before. Left, left, down a flight of stairs, right, and left. The hallway that contains his prison feels much longer than before, and the sound of rain is nearly muted at this point. You feel as if you’re buried deep within a tomb, with a flashy and loud bag of snacks for a man that killed your boyfriend’s brother. 

It feels silly, but you still think you could at least try to communicate with him. However stupid this decision is, you pay no mind.

When you get to the door, the room is so dark and quiet that you wonder if you either picked the wrong room or he’s dead already. Still, you flip on the flashlight you grabbed and place it on the chair in the corner, shining it directly at the man lying on the floor. 

You take a moment to look around and smile slightly when you notice the food he kicked from him before has been eaten. Surely that pack of crackers and bottled water wasn’t enough, but it’s all Jungkook would let slide without fearing for his life again. 

“Hi.” You say in a peppy voice, seemingly in a much better spot than he is and accidentally making it more obvious. 

Yoongi groans, rolling over to look at you briefly before letting his head fall back to the floor. 

“I brought food again. There’s more this time.” You smile when you say it, shaking the bag as if Yoongi truly were a dog that would jump and do tricks for the food. “It’s against the rules, and I’m not supposed to be here so I suggest you fucking appreciate it this time.”

He rolls his eyes as he lies there, weak and hardly able to move. He does try though, more willing now to grovel, more willing to do just about anything for food so he can at least get his thoughts straight. 

You watch him struggle to sit up, and only now realize that he really is dying. He’s actually starving and probably can’t simply appreciate the food if he doesn’t have the energy to even hold his head up. 

“Do you need some help?” You ask, walking around and shining the light at his face.

You’re taken aback by his eyes. They’re dull and lifeless as he gives a small nod. You can see that he’s silently pleading. 

“Ah, right. Starvation and all that.” You say with a pained laugh, grabbing the bag and scooting it next to him before crouching down and trying to lift him up.

His body is horrendously lightweight, and something inside of you twists at the feeling of him slumped in your arms. You hold him there, listening to his pained groans as you glance around the room and start to drag him. 

“Here, sit up,” You say, propping him against the wall and going back for the bag. “I’ve got two sandwiches, two bottles of water, and an ibuprofen.”

You see his pained and choked chuckle at the mention of an ibuprofen, as if that’s a bandaid for the immense amount of anguish he’s been feeling. Still, he relishes in the feeling of another person being near him. The energy alone helps him keep his eyes open. 

“Can you chew?” You ask, looking at him as you unwrap a sandwich and try to place it against his lips. “Um,” 

You feel defeated seeing someone in this state so closely. Regardless of what he’s done, you feel pity and slight disgust of his treatment. No wonder Namjoon forbids you most of the time from meeting hostages or looking at crime scenes as if it were a zoo for your entertainment. 

“You must feel awful,” You whisper, trying again to push the sandwich past his lips. “Can you eat this for me?” 

He tries. Opening his mouth and feeling the sensation of taste. His mouth waters and burns at the sudden feeling, drool running out of the sides of his lips as he tries to work up the energy to chew. His throat is too dry to swallow though, and he chokes on the barely chewed piece of sandwich.

You’re quick to grab a bottle of water and tilt his head back. You grab his cheeks and hold his head steady and his mouth open, pouring a bit of the water into his mouth and watching how long it takes for him to swallow both the food and the water. 

“God, I know I should be hating you but this really is pitiful.” You comment, feeling as if you’re already talking to a corpse.

In a way you are, and you hate it. So maybe, knowing that Namjoon intends to leave this man here unbothered and unfed until he’s dead, surely you can…you know…help the situation.

~

On one end, you’re betraying an entire gang of men and women who have protected you for years. You’re betraying your boyfriend, the leader of that gang, but…humanity still exists within you. Since that night, feeding a viscous killer, you couldn’t stop thinking of the state he was in.

You knew Namjoon was a killer but he never let you see that side of him. You saw Yoongi once three days after his capture and he still looked alive and well despite being heavily beaten. And just those three days later, you saw how much the world seemed to have forgotten him.

You have heard whispers of the rival gang searching for him, but they have been met with no luck. You appear to be his only saving grace, which is a terrifying place to have put yourself in. Still, if they’re going to kill him, you’d rather they just shoot him in the head and leave it at that. 

You’re meddling where you shouldn’t be, and you still have no idea why you feel compelled to do it. 

On the other end, you find yourself in deep shit when you continue to visit Yoongi late at night to essentially undo what your boyfriend has ordered. You notice how far you’ve gone when Yoongi can start talking, when he can start moving, when his eyes brighten up a little more, when his cheeks become fuller. 

The moment you see him, with faded bruises and still swollen fingers, you wonder what he looked like without being so fucked up. His face is still pretty, even when he was on the verge of death, and here you are watching him appreciate that you, an enemy, continue to keep him alive.

“He’s going to kill you for this, you know.” Yoongi comments, eating away at the meal you’ve brought him this time. “Feeding me so often. I’m pretty sure they were leaving me here to die.”

“They were.” You huff, sitting on the wooden chair and watching the way his energy grows. “I figure if I get caught, I’ll just kill you first and then myself.”

“Bold,” He ticks his tongue, still not looking away from the food in front of him. “I can imagine they think I’m already dead.” 

A wave of cold fear hits you. That’s right. Surely by now, he would be dead, and surely they’d come check and hide the body or something. But no one has shown up, no one but you. You can imagine that by now, they’re probably planning to come see him, and seeing him alive and well would pose questions. Lots of questions.

Thankfully, no one notices when you leave at night. You never leave when Namjoon stays with you, and you never make yourself suspicious either. If they have any questions, they certainly wouldn’t expect you to be the one to answer them.

“So, why’d you kill him?” You ask, wondering if you can at least learn some information about him before all of this comes crashing down around him.

“Kill who? I’ve killed a lot of people, most of them I don’t even know their names.” He laughs, narrowing his eyes at you. “Who are you, anyway?”

You pause. He’s still a dead man despite that beating heart so telling him wouldn’t change a thing, you assume. You give him your name and follow up with your title.

“You’re dating that pompous asshole? You know what he did to my family, right?” Yoongi looks at you with a face you hadn't seen before. There’s a lot of hate behind it as he sneers at you. 

“I don’t, no. But I can imagine he probably killed them, right?”

Yoongi nods with a grimace, for the first time losing his appetite. It’s laughable, really. 

“If you’re referring to his friend, I shot him. It was a quick death. But do you know what he did to my friends?” He continues with an evil smirk, as if telling you will hurt you as much as he’s been hurt. 

You shake your head, breathing in deeply at the images in your head.

“Well, you saw what he was doing to me. I’m shocked he was being so kind with my demise.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, both curious and afraid to actually learn what he means.

“Have you ever seen what happens to a body after they’ve been floating in murky water for a week?” 

You shake your head.

“Have you ever heard the snap of a neck?” 

You again, shake your head.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” He laughs, now gaining his appetite back. “Both of those things, I'd love to do to your boyfriend.” 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for some reason, you don’t shiver.

“Are you saying those are things he’s done?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Well, yeah. Most of us have. But him. He’s particularly brutal, likes to send us videos, y’know? I bet you’ve never watched the only person you’ve ever loved get doused in gasoline and set on fire either, have you?”

You freeze, another chill running down your body. Namjoon did that? Like, you knew killing was part of it but you really expected a typical gunshot or stabbing. This, this is something else. Given, you watched him starve the man in front of you so, should it be as shocking as it is? 

But it is, because he did this to someone’s girlfriend? You’re his girlfriend, and by doing that to Yoongi, surely that put a hit on your head. 

“He’s not so pretty in your head now, huh?” Another laugh. 

“Is that why you killed him?” You ask, trying to avert the attention to someone other than Namjoon. 

“No. Unfortunately, I was the one who did the first hit. But to be fair,” Yoongi twists his wrists bound behind him and tilts his head in a playful way. “He did some unsavory things to that same person I loved.” 

Unsavory things. You can’t imagine what that could be outside of, well, rape. Namjoon’s best friend, his brother, raped Yoongi’s girlfriend. And then Namjoon set her on fire in retaliation? 

“Why are you so quiet now?” Yoongi asks, finishing off his food with little to no hesitation and staring at the water. “Not too happy to learn that I’m not the only piece of shit you seem to cling to?”

You take offense to that, eyes trailing to that same bottle of water he’s looking at. 

“Fuck you.” You say, standing from your place and grabbing that bottle of water, opening it, and pouring it out on the floor in front of him. “If you're thirsty, there, have at it.” 

You don’t even look at him when you turn and walk away, locking the door and promising yourself that you won’t come back. There’s no way Namjoon did those things, and you’re not fucking clinging. 

~

Fortunately for Yoongi, no one unsavory shows up two days later. It’s you again, reluctantly stepping in with his delivery of food and energy. 

“Here I was thinking you wouldn’t come back.” He laughs, scooting from the wall and toward you. By now his legs are feeling better, and he can even move some of his fingers, which is very lucky because he really thought they had been twisted. 

“You’re lucky I did.” You deadpan, walking up to him and looking down. “I learned that maybe you’re not much of a liar, are you?” 

He tilts his head at you with a smirk, nodding his head in a genuine way. 

“I’m either going to die, or you are. What’s the point in keeping secrets?”

You nod brokenly, breathing in a deep sigh and still trying to process the things you confirmed on your own. Jungkook may be in, but he sure does have a loud mouth when you start asking him questions. The good news is that, if Namjoon found out Jungkook shared those secrets, he’d be on the chopping block again. So, he’s kind of stuck with you in this limbo of wondering who to trust and who not to trust. 

You, now fearing your own boyfriend who not only holds you on the nights he’s home, but tells you he loves you, feel at a loss when you look at Yoongi. 

Both men have committed atrocities and it’s funny how you expected them to have not been that way. At least the man before you told you the truth though. He protected a person he loved, and Namjoon killed people for it. 

“Yoongi.” You say his name for the first time and he grimaces immediately at it. 

“What makes you think we are on a first name basis?” He asks, snidely. 

“I had to feed you like a fucking baby, I can call you whatever I damn well please.” You argue, stepping back and reaching for the chair to sit in front of him. 

“You think you can just call me whatever you want because you chose to fuck your life up and keep me alive?” He laughs again, clearly very aware of the position he’s in but still unafraid. “So fucking clingy. I don’t see how he stands it.”

You scoff, poking your tongue in your cheek at the audacity of this man. 

“Have you ever heard of saying “Thank you”?” You ask, rolling your eyes and kicking him over. 

He falls with a huff, but lays there chuckling about it. 

“Either way, Jungkook said he was ordered to come here in two days to get rid of your body. So, I suggest you either roll over and die or we figure something out.”

“We?” He questions, sitting himself back up and looking at you with a raised brow. “So, you’re working for me now?”

You look around the room, wanting to cry because it damn well seems that way considering what you’ve learned. Namjoon would probably kill you without blinking . Unfortunately, yeah, maybe you are.

“It seems so.” You look at him, noticing how his once dull and lifeless eyes are full of energy and rage. Noticing even more how he looks up and down your body.

You can imagine the man is touch starved, and for some reason, that is…kind of attractive. Such a wanted man checking you out as if you both aren’t on the verge of being shoved into a morgue freezer. 

“Oh yeah?” His eyes stay roaming, and then he flicks them back up at you. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, it’s pretty hot to know you’re turning your back on that piece of shit.” 

In his head, he’s very clearly barely back to reality. After all, he’s been in this room entirely alone save for you. Nearly dying and then coming back from the brink of death because of you. Is it so wrong for him to kind of, you know, be a man in such a dire situation? 

“I haven’t turned my back on him! I’m just,” You pause, going quiet for a moment to think. “I’m just trying to figure out if I can accept what he’s done.”

“And so, you’re asking me what to do so we both don’t get killed? Hate to tell you babe, but even if you chose to stay, I'd tell them the second they find me alive that you’re the one who fed me.” 

You glare at him, knowing that you’re both facing a brick wall with guns pointed to your head. 

“I bet you would.” 

“He and I are pretty similar, watching you die wouldn’t sting even a tiny bit.” He continues, poking and pushing the buttons he realizes you have. “Thank you though.”

You look down at him, tilting your head and, for some reason, smiling.

“You’re welcome.” You say, standing to your feet and walking around him. 

He protests the second he feels your arms snake around him and try to lift him. His body now having a bit more weight to it, you feel pleased that you kept him alive, for some reason.

“Sit on the chair.” You say, still tugging him up and noticing how he wobbles on his legs. 

Yoongi says nothing, for some reason no longer fighting and instead focusing on seeing if his legs still work. Somehow, they’re not broken, and he’s able to stand on them for a brief moment before leaning the entirety of his weight on you. 

“Clingy.” He laughs in an out of breath whisper, fumbling to the chair and finally falling into it. 

“Did you love your girlfriend?” You ask, stepping back and looking at him propped in his chair. 

“I did.” He admits, looking straight past you and at the wall. “Can’t now though.”

You look to the ground. 

“Would you have killed her if she kept Namjoon alive behind your back?” You ask.

“No.” He admits again, laughing at himself. “Would have killed myself before I ever laid a hand on her.” 

You think hard about the similarities between Yoongi and Namjoon, but you struggle to find many of them. Which is terrifying.

“So, you really think Namjoon would kill me for the same reasons?”

“Babe,” He lets out a pained laugh for you, shaking his head in pity. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

You nod your head, because you honestly think he would too. 

“So, what now?” You ask, knowing there is no answer to the question. 

“I’d suggest you run home to him.” He says, nodding his head to the door as if to encourage you. “I don’t suppose I can expect you to accidentally let one of my family members know where I am though, can I?”

“No,” you say sadly, trying to force the tears threatening to shed to stay behind your eyelids. “I suppose you can’t.”

It’s silent for a long while, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Realizing how much safer you feel in this prison compared to in bed next to Namjoon. It’s frightening, truly, that you could be killed simply for having humanity. Yoongi’s girlfriend was killed because his humanity drove him to revenge. Maybe you’re the one more similar to Yoongi. 

“I’m not really going to tell them, you know.” Yoongi calls out, dropping his head and looking at you from under his messy hair. “I might kill, but rarely without reason. I’m satisfied enough with the idea that you might leave him.”

You stare at him.

“You’re too naive to be involved with all of this. He seems to do a pretty shit job at protecting you, considering you’re here with me.”

You continue to look at him, questioning every word he’s saying. 

“You’re pretty similar to her, you know? I mean, minus the whole going behind his back thing.” Yoongi smiles when he looks at you, and arguably that expression hits you right in the gut. 

“If I untie you, would you come after me?” You ask, studying him. 

“Maybe, who knows?” He watches you go behind him anyway. “You like playing with fire, don’t you?” 

His eyes light up at the feeling of you behind him, hoping to god you’re truly weak hearted enough to untie him. He could run, he could fulfill this rage growing in his heart, but those hopes are shattered when you come back into view. 

You lean down, inches from his face and look directly into his eyes. Searching for a reason to think he would kill you the instant you untie those hands. What you see instead, is his eyes flicking to your lips. 

You, in turn, flick your eyes to his and you don’t even know why you do it. Perhaps it’s the overwhelming feeling of death looming over the two of you. You hold Yoongi’s life in your hands, and he technically holds your life in his if he were to tell on you. The feeling is driven solely by fear, disgust, hate, pity.

You kiss him. His breath not offering much outside of the citrus fruit he had eaten when you offered it to him just an hour earlier. 

It’s silent, and you can imagine he truly could have gone insane in this room all by himself. You feel yourself going insane too, despite feeling safer. 

And when you pull back reluctantly, Yoongi’s eyes shine a little differently. His smirk is still scary but his eyes are soft and pleading. That dull look in his eyes from the first night you fed him? That tiny little glint of need shining through to you? That is showing in full force and you wonder if he notices it. 

“He’d definitely kill you.” Yoongi laughs, still looking at you. 

It’s silent again, save for a few quick breaths leaving your chest. You give him a short nod, because you know he’s right and there’s no point in denying it at this point.

“But I wouldn’t.”

All you can do is fall farther into the insanity that fills this room at that. Leaning in and kissing him again, this time a bit more desperate, releasing all of the tension inside of you on him as you bring your body closer, and straddle his sore and weak legs. 

“Are you asking to die?” He comments at your closeness, confirming that you may actually be as clingy as he joked that you were. It appears that death doesn’t seem to scare you at this moment, nor does it scare him. 

If anything, having Namjoon’s girl straddling his lap without so much as asking for it is a new kind of desire in his mind. Namjoon may have killed his ex girlfriend, but he didn’t fuck her. Which, arguably, isn’t worse than losing her but still makes his heart race with anger at the thought. The idea of taking you from that man even for a moment is blissful. An ultimate insult, one that would piss Namjoon off beyond belief. Surely he’d be left in a different room to be eaten by rats next time he makes an attempt on his life. 

“Hm?” Yoongi continues, letting you kiss him, feeling your weight on his sore body, kind of loving the feeling because he hasn’t touched a woman since his girlfriend died. But if he’s going to end up dead, he might as well fuck Namjoon’s girlfriend beforehand, right? 

“Maybe I am,” you answer, breathlessly. “Are you?” You ask, leaning back and looking at him.

“You do realize I’m one of the most wanted men in this country, right?” He laughs, smirking and feeling quite cocky with the turn of events. 

“That,” You eye him, feeling his length twitch beneath you. “you are.” 

He chuckles, noting that you’re suddenly complimenting him now.

“Wanted by you wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but alright.” He shrugs, pressing his hips up and against you. “Can you at least untie my hands if you’re going to throw yourself at me like this?”

You shake your head, lifting off of him a bit and checking that his hands are still bound. 

“No,” You laugh, sitting back down and noticing his harsh reaction to your weight on his legs again. “Does your dick still work?”

Yoongi glares, unsure of how he feels about fucking someone while bound and in pain like this, but who is he to say no? Again, Namjoon’s girlfriend. Rage and revenge. If he can live through a heavy beating and starvation, surely he can handle a girl bouncing on his cock. 

“It appears so,” He says, feeling the twitch in his pants fight against the pain of his legs. “Why, you gonna fuck me?”

“Maybe, who knows?” You respond, leaning back down and biting hard against his neck. 

He glares at the wall, seemingly enthralled with the idea but still not entirely happy with the situation at hand. He’s not typically the person to be fucked, and yet, here you are moving your hips against his battered body, bumping against his cock each time. 

Shaking himself out of it, he has to remember that again, this is Namjoon’s girlfriend and he wants to fuck her for no other reason than pissing him off. So, whatever. 

“Are you this eager with him too?” He asks, trying to crane his neck from your biting mouth to get you to look at him. “or am I just lucky?”

Lucky, hah. You scoff against his neck before pulling back to look at him. 

“You really do talk a lot of shit, you know that?” You say, deliberately pressing more weight against his legs to elicit a pained groan out of him. 

“I’ve been told, yes.” He groans in a half laugh, not wanting to appear as broken as you know he has been. “You’re still the one trying to fuck enemy number one though.” 

Internally, your heart is racing. 

“Maybe I’m the lucky one then?” You offer, moaning a bit at the feeling of how hard he’s gotten despite the state of his body. “Most wanted man in the country right? Sitting right here, tied up, at my mercy.”

“Damn, I didn’t know Namjoon liked to be slapped around.” Yoongi laughs, wincing again at both the pain and pleasure you’re offering to him. 

“He doesn’t.” You respond, tilting your head before leaning in close to his ear. “I’m the one who likes that.” 

His arms shake within their bounds, broken fingers be damned he still has another hand to use. 

“Then fucking untie me,” He grouches, huffing out through his nose and attempting to push you away by shifting his legs. “If you like it so much, let me do it.” 

You shake your head again, this time with your own pitied laugh. 

“You’d kill me. I know you said you wouldn’t but you were just trying to get on my good side.” You coo out at him after your comment, ghosting your lips over his. “It must hurt pretty bad to know how pathetic you look right now.” 

He very nearly spits at you for looking down on him with intent. Sure, before you probably looked down on him because he was literally dying. But now? This is a blatant insult, and he can’t help but feel some of that rage build up within him. 

“Pathetic?” He laughs, staring down at the way your hips continue to move. “You’re the one getting yourself off on a man who would kill your boyfriend in an instant.” 

“Do it then.” you say, unsure of why you’re suddenly so okay with the idea of murder. Maybe because if Yoongi did it, you know he’d probably be quick with it. He didn’t seem to take pleasure in describing such gory scenes to you, so clearly he must not like to savor them either. Not like Namjoon, who appears to favor giving others a long and painful death. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi calls out, being entirely aroused by your willingness to tell him to kill your boyfriend. The thought of hurting him alone could get Yoongi off within seconds. The relief of killing the man who caused so much pain would be better than any orgasm or twelve hundred dollar bottle of wine. 

“Say that again,” Yoongi groans, replaying those words you just said in his head. His own hips moving against you now. “Say it and I swear I’ll kill him when I get out of here.” 

You don’t comment at first. “when I get out of here.” he said, as if he knows for a fact you’ll untie him. As if he trusts that you’re with him one hundred percent. Hell, at this point, maybe you are. Feeling so unsafe and so very aware of how dead you actually may become, fighting to keep yourself alive is easier to swallow than letting your own boyfriend kill you for betraying him. Fight or flight, the brain works so strangely when it needs to survive. 

“Do it,” You repeat, hearing his breath hitch in an embarrassing way. “I bet you would, wouldn’t you?”

He nods proudly, still writhing his arms and wanting so badly to be free, not even to escape at this point, but to hold onto your waist and feel more of that pain you offer to him. 

“Fucking untie me.” He demands, legs shaking as he continues to try and chase the rhythm of your harsh grinding hips. “You think I’d kill you when you’re talking to me like this?” 

“I think you would.” You laugh, now pulling back off of his lap and standing to your feet in front of him. 

You look down at him, his cock towering in his dirty jeans. For some reason, you’re not disgusted by the fact that he’s filthy. You’re more disgusted with the idea of going home and smelling the shampoo Namjoon uses to wash the blood out of his hair. 

“I wouldn't.” He repeats himself, now moving back and forth in his chair to try and unbind his hands much like he did the first night he was here. “If i planned on killing you, i’d fuck you first anyway.”

You narrow your eyes, watching him try to break free before you lunge forward and lean over him again. Much like before, you grab his face and force him to look into your eyes. 

“I’m not untying you.” You say sternly, as if to warn him that it’s the final time you’ll say it. “You have two days left, and I’m not coming back after this.”

“I know.” He admits, bucking his hips up at nothing. “So, if you could just pull my dick out and get to it, I'd really appreciate it.”

You poke your tongue to your cheek again, wondering how the fuck this man manages to stay so confident in such a position. You wonder even harder why you listen to him. 

Just as he asked, you lower yourself to your knees and lay your head on his knee. For a moment, he watches you and understands why Namjoon must like you so much. You’re pretty down there, with playful eyes even in the face of death. You’re definitely something else. One, for ending up with Namjoon, and two, for ending up in this room with him like this. 

“I think you could probably drive anyone insane,” Yoongi says in a voice that seems too soft for him. “If he’s really stupid enough to kill you for giving him the chance to kill me again, he’s a lot more dumb than I expected.”

You smile, blinking up at his compliment. 

“Thank you.” You say, feeling so lost in this situation that at this point, you feel like you’d rather just stay here and let Jungkook find you both two days from now. It’s a fucked up situation on all ends, but at least you feel okay right now, with your chin resting on a killer’s knee, glancing at his cock, wondering how you want to pleasure it. 

He stops talking by this point, bucking his hips to encourage you to stop staring and pull it out. The sound of his clothing rubbing against that old wooden chair suddenly feels loud, and your ears begin to ring as your heart picks up. 

There is a specific realization in this moment regarding all of that humanity that drove you to this point. Helping this man is one thing, but wanting him is something completely different. In your head, you question everything you feel at this moment. Are you chasing comfort from none other than, and he was right to say it, the most wanted man in the country? More wanted than Namjoon? Perhaps that’s because Namjoon has other’s do his dirty work though. Yoongi appears to kill personally, and quickly. It’s no wonder he got caught by the gang you call family. 

You remember being told that they got him, and that he was to be killed. You remember mocking Namjoon, complaining that you wouldn’t believe it until you saw him. You remember Jungkook sitting in the driver’s side of the car and driving you here for the first time, and you remember that one of your first thoughts about Yoongi was that he didn’t look much like a gang leader lying on the floor like that. You thought he was cute, almost puppy like in his defiance. 

When he spilled all of those truths about Namjoon and the men and women you are surrounded with, you did lean more into Yoongi than the people who claim to love you. You didn’t know why you kept him alive, you didn’t know why you betrayed those you love. If anything, you know now that is was simply humanity. 

Something that you cling to, and something that the majority of people around you have thrown away. When you look at Yoongi though, alive because of you, you see his humanity too. There is a fire in his eye that doesn't sing out for rage and blood, no. It’s a look you couldn’t find in Namjoon’s eye just a day before. Humanity brought you to save this man, and it also brought you to find him attractive despite his state, and it also brought you to this. Wanting him.

Wanting to comfort him from those atrocities your boyfriend committed toward him, because you can defend why Yoongi killed the man who once brought you a cake for your birthday. You wanted to keep him alive because somehow, in your gut, you knew he didn’t deserve to die this way. 

And now, so terrified of what this situation might bring, you’re turned on by fear. The arousal of him talking so much shit, complimenting you through insults, looking at you in a way Namjoon never did drives a distinct type of butterfly within your belly. You fear every single person outside of this room, but Yoongi. You want him to yourself. 

Yoongi watches you against his knee, seemingly in deep thought as your face falls and lightens up with realization. He finds himself smiling at the situation. He was really quite lucky for Namjoon to be dating such a woman. If he hadn't been, surely he would be dead and limp in the corner, rotting until his body is hidden elsewhere two days from now. But he’s not, his heart is beating and his cock is raging much like the hate in his heart for the men who seemed to have claimed you.

Don’t get him wrong though, it’s not that he likes you in the way Namjoon seems to. He gets why he does though. The fact of the matter is that you put yourself in a terrifying situation to keep him alive for no reason that has truly been given. It’s natural for him to owe you now, and what he owes you is nothing short of his own life for putting yourself in the line of fire like this. 

Yoongi does like you though. Likes the way you look at death the same way he does, being reckless and making mistakes despite clearly having some sort of intelligence. His attraction to you comes in the form that you’re a woman, you’re Namjoon’s woman, you’re attractive, and you really did give him his life back. Even still restrained, he’s turned on beyond belief. Never having been put in a situation where he fucks the inevitable out of his mind, but it’s exactly what he intends to do. 

Not just to spite Kim Namjoon, but also to somehow repay you. You got on top of him, you kissed him, and if you want to fuck the life of out him, he owes you that much too. At least when you leave him here, if you leave him here, he knows that he made you feel good too. 

“Well?” He finally says, pulling you out of your drifting thoughts and making your eyes shoot back up to him. “You just gonna look at it or?”

You blink twice before glancing back down at his cock and feel the resolve within you strengthen. Your mind is suddenly so clear when you reach forward and unbutton his pants, sliding them down his legs and completely off of him.

You gasp when you see how bruised his legs are, realizing that you were just sitting directly on them. Thankfully, again, they’re not broken but you can imagine the weakness he feels. 

“Oh.” You breathe out, letting your fingers ghost over one of the deepest and darkest bruises. Shaped like a boot and showing a pattern that looks very similar to the pair of boots your boyfriend wears. You watch him wince at the energy of your fingers, not even touching the spot but simply close enough to still somehow manage to hurt him. 

“I’ve had worse,” he urges you, leaning forward a bit and looking at you. “What, you think I can’t handle a couple of bruises?”

You look up at him, trying to push the range of colors against his skin out of your mind as your eyes land and focus back between his legs. Not surprising that it can distract you almost instantly as it stands against the last remaining restraining fabric. 

His hips buck up when he sees your hands go for the waistband of his underwear, licking his lower lip with a silent chant in his head of yes, yes, yes! Perhaps it’s because he lost his mind, but it’s really not such a bad deal to be able to get so turned on in a situation like this. After all, he owes you, so he might as well get into it, right? 

When you pull off his underwear, instantly you’re just staring. In awe that he can manage to be turned on at all right now, ultimately quite happy that it still works too.

“I bet all the girls love getting fucked by you.” You comment, staring at his cock and the way it stands more lively than the rest of his body. 

“On the contrary babe. I don’t fuck just anyone.” He chuckles snidely, looking down at the way your eyes swallow him up. “If I’m fucking someone, only I’m fucking her.”

“Lucky her, bet you go for the pretty ones too.” 

“You misunderstand me,” he chuckles softly, his cock twitching at the way your energy changed once you got a good look at it. “If I fuck her, she’s only fucking me.” 

You pause, noting another lack of similarity between Yoongi and your boyfriend. Namjoon fucks other women, sometimes in just a room over from you. Part of you wishes he was as possessive as the man before you on all fronts. Enough to kill a man for you like Yoongi did, enough to starve and suffer in a room for protecting you. 

“What happens when Namjoon gets his hands on me again, then?”

“He won’t be able to once I’m done with you.” 

You pause, unsure if that’s a threat on your life or a threat for a good time. The gamble is the same either way, so you offer him a sarcastic laugh. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” You ask, leaning forward and tip toeing your fingers up his length. 

“You wouldn’t want him to fuck you.” He says snidely, shivering at your touch. “Let me show you what it’s like to actually get fucked.” 

You breathe in deeply, pupils blowing out at the sound of those words. It only takes a moment to stand up and place yourself back on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking directly into his eyes. 

“Is that a promise?” You say, eyes burning in delight and ignoring the wince of pain that trembles through his body. “You think you can fuck me better?” 

He smirks and nods his head, pushing his cock forward as his legs start to go numb under your weight. He’s no longer uncomfortable, thinking with only one part of his body. 

“Let me,” He says, trying to show his dominance despite being restrained. “Sit on it and see, babe.”

You chuckle silently, lifting up on his lap and internally apologizing for the way your legs squeeze his thighs, he doesn’t react though. You snake your hands under your skirt to push your panties to the side and have no qualms with grabbing his cock and positioning it right where it needs to be. 

Yoongi shivers at the feeling of your hand grasping him, and the image of your eyes not leaving his when you do it. For once in his life, he is feeling so out of control, owing someone else, all while being pleasured? Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time in captivity. 

“Sit.” He says in a demanding way, feeling the way you hover over him and make attempts to tease the pleasure. 

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do.” You laugh, still somehow following his order and sliding down just an inch and releasing a breath. 

He hums at it, holding his own pleasure in and watching you attempt to control yourself just through the small amount of cock he’s got in you. 

“Untie me, I’ll take care of you.” He tries to reason with you again, bucking his hips up and plunging another few inches against your aching walls. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod, dropping your head to his shoulder as you brace yourself against the chair behind him. Slowly sinking down and adjusting to a size that isn’t what you’re accustomed to. And when you finally sit flush against his thighs, you spread your legs to offer him some relief and clench your pussy around him. 

“Untie me,” he says again, thrusting his hips up beneath your weight and trying to force in more of him despite having no more to offer. “Fuck.” 

You ignore his words and his chasing hips as your pussy hugs his length. You feel so full, so satisfied by his size inside of you. When he tries to fuck up, he doesn’t go far but the tight fit burns in a way that feels more arousing than you could have ever expected.

“You must hate being tied up,” You chuckle, finally moving your hips just a bit to relieve yourself of a bit of his length. “How does it feel to be at a woman’s mercy?” 

Yoongi glares at you when you say those words, pressing up and struggling with his strength as he tries to force those few inches back into you. 

“How does it feel?” He repeats the question to you. “I could be fucking the light out of your eyes right now if you’d just let me.”

You almost consider it, wondering what his working hand would feel like pressing against your skin. The other, too swollen and likely too painful to touch you. You’d still play with those fingers though, because the only way you can get a decent moan out of him is if he’s hurting. 

“The light already left my eyes, Yoongi.” You say.

He doesn’t hear a word of it outside of you using his first name again. He rolls his eyes at you, dropping his head back in a frustrated groan at how he’s both getting what he wants, but also not.

“No, your eyes are still shining.” He says when he lifts his head back up to face you, and you pull back a bit, rolling your hips before finally lifting again to actually start riding him. 

“So are yours.” You say, looking straight into them and smiling.

He doesn’t believe you, but the sensation of how wet you seem to be definitely would have any man’s eyes shining. 

“How does it feel?” You comment, noticing the shiver that runs down his body and his heaving chest. 

“Fucking tight.” He grimaces, “I’d keep you all to myself. Namjoon is a stupid, stupid man for letting you come here.”

“He’s a specific type of man,” You correct him, hovering over his lips. “Doesn’t even eat my pussy.”

“Goddamn, untie me.” Yoongi very nearly pleads, feeling the intensity of how your walls cling to him. 

He’s aching so much. He’s so fucking angry, and yet, he really is about to beg for you to release him. Not to run, not to kill you, but to pleasure you.

You still ignore him, ghosting your lips over his and watching his eyes droop into a drowsy stare at you. You were right when you said his eyes were shining, even like this, they are. You could argue that he feels good, you could argue that if you untied him, maybe he really would fuck you better than Namjoon does. 

“I bet you’d kill to have your hands on me right now, wouldn’t you?”

Yoongi nods brokenly, still trying to buck his hips up to make good on his promise, and still being met with frustration bubbling inside of him. He’s too restrained for this, his heart has grown soft at this ego blow, and yet, his cock still yearns inside of you. 

“I would.” He admits, his voice so broken sounding that you almost feel as if you’ve pushed him to his limit. 

“You’d eat me out too, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck yeah I would.” He admits again, this time seeming more determined as he starts to move his hands again in an attempt to free himself. “Let me.” He seethes out through a clenched jaw. 

You ignore him.

“Let me.” He says again, this time in a half moan when you move your hips with more intent. 

“If you make it out of here alive, I’ll let you.” You moan yourself, sliding back and forth against him, swirling your hips and feeling his weeping cock stretch you out even more. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Yoongi groans, tensing his muscles to offer more support for your languid grinding. “Fucking me so slow, making promises you know you can’t keep.”

“I’ll keep them,” You say, lowering your face to his neck and reaching your hands behind him, rubbing against his arms. “You’re giving me so much power right now, it’s hard not to savor it.”

He chuckles at your boldness, once again leaning his head back against the chair and allowing himself to relish in the feeling of the way you ride him. 

“If I make it out of here alive, I’m going to look him in the eye and tell him how wet and needy this pussy is for me.” 

“You’re so honest,” you laugh, picking up pace and fiddling with the binds on his hands. “That’s why I’m not going to untie you.”

“Faster,” he groans, imagining that he has healthy and free hands, guiding your hips on him. If he’s going to have to be like this though, the least he can do is try and guide you to the pace he should be fucking you at in this moment. “I want to hear how wet you are.”

You smirk, pulling your hands back and grabbing his face. His cheeks are fuller now compared to that night you came to bring him his life back, and they look plush when you squeeze them and force his eyes to stay on you. 

“Faster?” You ask, already pistoning your hips against him, the chair creaking and threatening to break under the weight the two of you offer. “Harder?” You ask, his eyes burning straight through you as if you’d be daring him to kill you if you don’t. 

He’s pleased by your pace, falling into a world of arousal in his head as you ride him exactly how he wants it. He can hear the wetness seeping out of you, and the best part is that it’s for him and not that pompous asshole who nearly killed him.

You bounce, fast and hard, drilling his cock so deeply into you that he finally releases a moan of pleasure right against your lips before rolling his eyes back and giving in. 

“Fuck, you do this for him, too?” He asks, eyes rolling back to look at you and the way the determination in your eyes only grows. 

“No,” You say out of breath, keeping that same pace and hiccupping with small moans each time. “He never lets me ride him” 

“Won’t eat you out, won’t let you ride him.” Yoongi mocks him, freely moaning now as you take him for all he’s worth. Which isn’t much at this point. “I’d worship you.”

You pause your movements, out of breath as you look at him. You glance down to his smiling lips, and then back up at his eyes. 

“I’d let you.” You say shortly, kissing him once again and returning back to your slow movements, pumping his cock inside of you so tightly that he fears this will end too quickly. 

And it does, when you feel his tongue tense up in your mouth and he starts kissing you harder. His harsh voice releases whimpers and breaths into your throat. The sounds coming from him are unintentional and entirely too arousing to ignore.  You can feel his length twitching aggressively inside of you, and you feel more full than you ever thought you could. You ride it out for him, giving him quick jerks of your hips to drag that sensitivity on as he finishes what you started. 

And then it’s silent, but he’s still kissing you. 

“Then let me.” He says once you part your lips, still holding him inside of you, and not daring to move a muscle.

~

You stay with him for a long while, torturing him in a way he finds himself loving by the time the sun rises and he now only has one day on this earth to live. You had spread yourself out on him, gotten him off twice, and then promptly moved him from the chair to get him on his knees. 

It was the first time since you’d been with Namjoon that you felt a tongue against your clit, breaking your own promise of letting if happen if he gets out of this situation. Arguably, you felt like you fell into this hole with Yoongi far too deep to even consider crawling out of it. He ate you like he was still starving, smirking as you swirled your needy clit against his tongue. He was eager to take the parts of you that Namjoon never wanted, it seems. 

And when the daylight rose and you were still here, panic sat in. You were filled with a man’s cum that isn’t your boyfriend’s. Your legs were arguably as weak as Yoongi’s, and you knew for a fact that your family was already wondering where you were. One of the cars would be missing, you’d be missing. 

“What?” Yoongi asks, watching you in horror at the sudden shift of mood. Your face twisting in panic as you start to breathe heavily.

“I can’t.” You say shortly, scooting back further from him. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

Yoongi picks up quickly on what you’re referring to. He knew this night had to come to an end though, and he knows for a fact that at least you got to experience him for who he truly is, and not the rabid criminal Namjoon seems to believe he is. 

“Probably because you know Namjoon is going to mail your head to the police?” He laughs, sighing in defeat.

That is, until you stand up and walk behind him. 

Instantly he feels the tight bind against his wrists loosen and now, he can look at the damage. His broken fingers aren’t twisted, and his wrists actually hurt more than they do. He turns to look at you as you stand there, struggling not to cry. 

Honestly, he’s a bit frozen in place before he tries to stand. His legs buckle from the lack of use and from your weight on them, but he manages to balance himself and slowly take a step toward you with a look of appreciation.

“Why did you do that?” He asks, trying to balance himself but feeling his legs give in instantly. He crumbles to the ground with a pained groan. Embarrassed by his nudity and lack of strength.

You didn’t run, nor did you hide after you untied him. What you did do though, is set him free from this situation. He can leave now, and if he needs to, he can take you with him. 

“Are you stupid?” He asks through his pain, standing again and internally forcing himself to walk. “Go on, run back to him.” He raises his voice. 

You shake your head.

“I’m dead either way.” You say with a shaking voice, feeling a pit in your stomach still bubble with arousal but the reality hit you far too late. 

“You saved my life and you’ve now given me a chance to fucking run. You think I’m going to let you die?” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Technically, it should be normal for a person to react this way, but Yoongi is a killer too. It’s not like you expect anything more from him, nor from Namjoon at this point when he ultimately learns that you’re the one who did this.

“If you want me to kill you so bad, I’d be happy to do it so you don’t have to fucking suffer but–” Yoongi goes silent for a moment, contemplating the position that he’s about to put himself in. 

As if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, it couldn’t hurt much more than it already will. 

“You could come with me. My men will protect you for keeping me alive. You’d be untouchable.” 

You look at him, seemingly unsure at first. 

“He’s probably already out looking for me.” You say in a smaller voice than before. “He’d know it was you.” 

“No shit. Either you’re coming with me or not.” Yoongi deadpans, standing as still as he can so he doesn’t tumble over to the ground again. 

You shrug in defeat, nothing left to say. 

And then you’re getting into your car after the struggle and helping your enemy escape. He’s in the back seat, smiling up as he focuses his eyes outside. 

“If you drive me straight to him, you know he’d probably forgive you, right?”

You ignore him, finding more comfort in the fact that he’d kill you for this. 

“Just tell me where to go.”

~ 

[cheriecelestial]

Batboys as Desi Films

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995)

Raj and Simran meet during a trip across Europe and end up getting stranded in the middle of nowhere after they miss their train. Despite their initial clashing, they fall in love. However, Simran’s traditional father has arranged her marriage elsewhere. Raj must win over Simran’s family to marry her, leading to a series of heartfelt moments, comedic misunderstandings, and ultimately, a dramatic climax where love conquers all as the couple fights for their happiness against societal norms.

Dick is so raj coded with his quips and charisma. Their chaotic banter and chemistry is off the charts. Any Indian who hasn’t watched this gets their desi card revoked immediately, I don’t make the rules. This movies fits Dick’s dramatic flair perfectly.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝

Goliyon ki Raasleela Ram-Leela (2013)

The modern adaptation of William Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet,” set in rural Gujarat, India. It follows the love story of Ram, from the Rajadi clan and Leela, from the Sanera clan, who belong to rival gangster clans engaged in a long-standing feud. Despite the enmity between their families, Ram and Leela fall deeply in love, leading to a tragic and tumultuous journey filled with passion, violence, and sacrifice.

It fits Jason’s love for guns and classics. An absolute visual treat with cinematography and all the songs are absolute bangers.

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞

Jab We Met (2007)

Aditya, a heartbroken business tycoon, someone who was dwelling in the lowest ebb of his life and was almost on the brink of giving it all up, aimlessly boards a train to escape his depressing life. On his journey he meets Geet, a talkative and vivacious young woman. Geet is on her way to meet her boyfriend, but her plans go awry, and she ends up stranded. Aditya, feeling sorry for her, decides to help her get to her destination safely. Along the way, they encounter various adventures and challenges that bring them closer together. Despite their contrasting personalities, they develop a deep connection. However, when they part ways, Aditya realizes his love for Geet and sets out to find her. In the end, they reunite, realizing they are meant to be together.

Grumpy x sunshine. The OG green flag. Epitome of ‘if he wanted to,he would’. Makes my chatterbox heart happy because of how much I relate to the FL. Favourite comfort movie of all time. ML kinda looks like Cillian Murphy’s scarecrow. “I like you a lot but that is my problem, you don’t need to worry about it.” Their fights and his little sassy comebacks and rants were so cute and fun to watch.

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Jodhaa Akbar (2003)

The Mughal emperor Akbar, seeking to forge political alliances, marries Jodhaa, a Rajput princess. Initially a marriage of convenience, their relationship evolves as they learn to respect and love each other. Jodhaa struggles to adapt to Mughal customs, especially with their cultural and religious differences but her courage and integrity win Akbar's admiration. Despite conspiracies and opposition, including from Akbar's own court, their love prevails. The film explores the transformation of a young ruler, initially groomed for ruthlessness by his mentor Bairam Khan, into a wise and compassionate emperor who values mercy, diplomacy, religious harmony and cultural acceptance. Akbar's realization of the importance of religious tolerance, showcased through his abolition of discriminatory policies and his respect for all faiths.

The arranged marriage tag and the ‘raised as a weapon but softens and shows more compassion out of respect and love for his empress’ tag fits demonhead!Damian so much. The way he said mashallah after he pulled off her veil in the middle of a sword fight >>>>. I love how it captures the essence of India’s rich heritage and diversity. “Why seek paradise ? It is before me now.”

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Khoobsurat (2014)

Milli, a free-spirited and eccentric young woman becomes the physiotherapist for a royal family. She brings her lively yet clumsy personality into the conservative royal household, shaking up their structured lives. It clashes with the formal atmosphere of the palace, especially with the stern matriarch, Nirmala Devi. Despite initial resistance, Milli's unconventional methods bring joy and laughter into the lives of the family members, including the brooding prince, Vikram. As Milli navigates the challenges of fitting into the royal household, she also finds herself falling in love with Vikram, leading to a series of comedic and heartwarming moments.

Very cliched (well it is a Disney film) and the second hand embarrassment is unreal but sometimes after a long day all you need is a feel-good cheesy rom-com. Oh to sit next to Fawad Khan in a red convertible while gazing lovingly at him. I like how she emphasises on improving the patient’s mental health to help him heal. Incase you haven’t noticed already, cold brooding™️ x silly goose is my favourite character dynamic.

𝐀/𝐍 - I’ll be honest with y’all, this was to satiate my desire of writing x desi! reader cuz I don’t have enough motivation or time to do it T^T