I have successfully boiled my problem with most of the izzy reads that i hate down to a sentence:

he's not sexually repressed, he's emotionally repressed.

Eddie Munson’s Little Housewife

This one’s pretty kinky!! Fic description and warnings down below:

18+ minors DNI.

Fic description: Dom! Eddie Munson x fem!subby reader, smutty smut, praise/degradation kink, daddy kink, impact play, collaring, service! kink

“Princess!!,” you hear your boyfriend shout from the other side of the trailer. He was in the living room, you were in his room, just laying around in bed.

You wore one of his oversized band shorts, and pretty hot pink lace panties!! With frilly socks to match, of course. You hear him call you and quickly jump off the bed to run to him.

You come into the living room and there he is, sitting on the couch, manspread, a dwindling flame from the cigarette in his mouth. “Come here, sweet girl,” he says, and pats his lap, motioning for you to sit. You skip over to him, settling in on his lap. He holds your thighs together with his big calloused hand, and you sling your arm around his shoulders.

“I got a little idea, sweetheart. A little idea for our play time, for a scene,” he starts. You knew this was coming. Anytime he wants to talk with you on his lap, you had a feeling it was going to be something dirty.

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.” “Good,” he smiles, attacking your face with kisses!!

~ The next day ~

The scene was to start in late afternoon. You found a light pink dress with some heels in your closet, and put on some jewelry and bright makeup too. Eds was outside, waiting to “come home” to his pretty little housewife. Before he left, he instructed you to clean the kitchen and make him dinner. You got dressed first, and then completed the tasks he ordered you to do. Suddenly, the door opens.

You had just finished taking his dinner out of the microwave, and setting the table for him. Here he was, dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans this time. His top dipped down, down just below where you could see his hairy chest.

You stand there, staring at him. He’s beautiful. “Now, where are your manners, sweetheart? Aren’t you going to invite me in?,” he drawled, his voice low, taunting. It gave you a little tingle between your legs, as you brush aside the hem of your skirt and let him inside.

“Dinner’s all ready, honey. I set the table, just the way you like it,” you gesture to the table, and pull out his chair for him, bringing him a napkin as well.

He hums, satisfied. He doesn’t praise you just yet. He is waiting, waiting for you to mess up. Just so you can get punished.

He eats his dinner in silence, while you sit across from him at the table, hands folded all nice in your lap, watching him with intent. You feel like he’ll start any minute. The anticipation is killing you.

“I’m done,” he whispers, softly, and you scramble to clear his plate. You left his cup on the table. He raises his voice a bit.

“Are we forgetting something?,” he asks you. You freeze. You didn’t clear anything off the table yet. “Oh, um…,” you start.

“Ah, ah, no time for explaining now, baby. You forgot. Isn’t that right?,” he says, stepping closer to you, pushing you against a wall, his hand trailing up your skirt.

“Yes, daddy.” He huffs, “good.” He pulls out a chair into the kitchen tile, sitting on it, leaving you panting against the wall. He taps his thigh. A signal. You knew what to do. You start to walk over to him.

“No. Kneel,” he points, onto the floor. You do as he says, kneeling right in front of him, hands folded in your lap. That was his favorite position. You look up.

He takes your chin, bringing your face a bit closer to him. He pulls out your small collar out of his pocket, reaching behind you gently to put it on. It is pink, with a heart ring in the middle. He tugs on it a bit, brushing your hair behind your knee.

“Didn’t listen to daddy, did you now, sweet girl?” You shake your head, as he peppers your cheek with a few light kisses. “Now, look at you. Kneeling like a little whore, for all those neighbors to see. I think my girl needs to be put in her place, don’t you?” He smugly taunts. He tugs on your collar a bit, his calloused fingertips brushing against your soft neck. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. I’m going to close those curtains, lock that door. I’m going to put you over my knee. And then I’ll give you as many spanks as I see fit, and you’re going to thank me for it, like the little slut you are.”

You froze again, simply mulling over his words in your head. He reaches over to you, a look of concern on his face. “Color, sweetheart? What’s your color?,” he asks. “Green, daddy. So green.” He smiles, and pats his knee again, motioning for you to get up. You loved how he checked in on you during a scene, he was so caring!!

Suddenly, you feel your skirt lifted, a cool breeze, your lavender lace thong exposed for him to see. You feel his metal rings, the shape of them, graze over your thong, pulling on it a bit. Without warning, he brings it down on your ass, you jolt forward a bit. “That’s one, princess. I think you need a minimum of twenty, maybe thirty, even. You’ve been bad.”

“Two,” he calmly says, as his calloused hand comes down on your ass again. Lucky for you, he gave you only ten more until you were shaking a bit in his lap. He gently pulls you up, and lays you on the table, face down.

You can’t see what he is doing, but you feel him now on top of you, his hairy chest pressing down onto your small, bare, back!! He grunts a bit, and you feel his hands near your backside. “Spread those cute little thighs for me. There you go, sweetie. What a good girl.”

You can’t do much but nod and moan, and soon enough you feel his big calloused fingers push Into you, god — it felt so good. “Fuck, — he grunts. This sweet little cunt is just sucking me in. You must be so ready for me, sweetie.” His voice —just so sweet. “Gonna give you my cock now, honey.”

With that, he slides Into you, your squelching pussy just pulling him in more and more, you felt so full and good, all stuffed with your daddy’s cock! “Fuck, princess, so fuckin’ good baby, so tight, can’t even move, what a good little slut you are for me,” he praises, stroking your hair with one of his hands, and the other holding your hips up firmly in place.

“Gonna go fast now, sweetie. You just lay there and take it for me, ‘kay?” “Yes, daddy,” you answer him, softly, brain too empty to think. You feel one his hands steady your shoulders, and then he starts pounding into you, ruthlessly, grunting, at a pace that has the table shaking.

“God — he was so strong and you loved it!! You felt his soft and big balls against you, as he drove his fat cock deeper and deeper into you. “Too deep, s’ too deep, daddy, can’t take it anymore,” you squeal out to him, and yet he does nothing but calm uou with some more “it’s okay, princess, just be a good girl and take it for me.” And soon enough, you feel his hot seed spill out into you, and with that, he is about to pull out. You grab his wrist. “Want your cock, daddy. Want it in.”

He agrees, kissing you on the cheek lightly. “S’okay, sweetie. We can stay like this. My perfect little housewife, huh? She’s so good for me, letting me breed her on the table like that. My perfect girl, so good for me,” he coos at you, as he momentarily pulls out, to slide you on your back. He lays back down on top of you, his heavy body pressing down on your little one, he slides his cock back in.

“How about we cuddle a bit, and then I can take a bath with you? How does that sound, sweetie? Did so good for me today…,” he coos at you some more, you run your hands through his fluffy dark brown locks. You loved scenes with your Eds — you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Would you ever write something for jack from mojave 🥺👉❤👈 he's my guilty pleasure...

If you have time, would you share any nsfw thoughts to leave us with?

The Stranger [Jack from Mojave x Fem!Reader]

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Uhhhh.... I mean it's Jack from Mojave, so... dark themes. Knife threats.

A/N: Jack ain’t a guilty pleasure brother, he’s simply a pleasure.

There’s a hand around your ankle and it tugs you just hard enough to shake you from your slumber. You usually sleep so well camped out in the desert under the stars, never waking till morning usually. So it shocks you to see the dark blanket of night when you open your eyes. The fire you built earlier that evening is nothing but glowing coals now and the man crouched at the foot of your sleeping bag looks like a phantom in the red pulsing light. He’s got a long, thick knife in one dirty paw propped on his knee, the other grips your ankle and he’s grinning at you with a graveyard smile. 

Your scream catches in your throat and your bowels twist and sink when you realize that even if you were to scream, there’s no one around for at least four miles to hear your cries, and any sound you might make would be brushed off as a coyote or the like. There’s no one to save you. It’s just you and the stranger.

He’s dressed like a desert dweller. Long protective layers and calf-high lace-up boots tied halfway up his shins. He tilts his hat to you with his knife-hand and then removes it completely. His hair is long and matted like a wolf, tied round with a sweat-stained bandana. He tosses the leather hat over to where your backpack is, next to your small cooler and you eye your backpack with alertness. Your adrenaline has spiked and you know you have to make it to your sack and get your hatchet or blade or spray or anything if you have a chance of making it through the night. 

The stranger squeezes your ankle once more, to get your attention.

“Don’t go gettin’ any ideas, girlie.” He licks his bottom lip, revealing more of his ragged mouth. “Hold still now. Wanna show you somethin’.” 

Your eyes widen in panic as he lets go of your ankle and reaches into his large coat pocket to pull out your spray and knife. 

“This ain’t ol Jacky’s first rodeo, sister.” 

You gulp and scan your sparse campground for the hatchet and just as you do, he stows your defenses back in his coat and holds a finger up.

“Oh, almost forgot”. He reaches behind him, to the back of his belt, under the large overcoat and produces…. The fucking hatchet. 

He twirls the hatchet in his hand and points it at your nose, far too close, and you whimper. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a big bad desert like this, huh? Doin’ some soul searching are we? Did you just get your heart broke and now you’re eat, prary, lovin’ it out in the fucking Mojave?” 

You can’t find words, you’ve forgotten how to speak it seems, but The Stranger, or “Jacky” by his own naming, doesn’t seem to mind that you haven’t uttered a word. 

“Well, sister, I hate to break it to you, but there ain’t much to eat out here… sides the rare cacti and whatever the buzzards haven’t picked clean.” He chuckles and tucks the hatchet back into his belt loop and rises, he makes his way over to the fire, crouching to add a log from the pile, the flames lick up the dry wood quickly and the yellow glow makes his black eyes glitter and his skin look sickly. 

“And praying?” His mirthless laugh is trilling and smokey. “Ohhh, girlie, if you weren’t praying before? You should be now. Although, you know what they said about the son of God when he went out to the desert: daddy made him wander for forty days without a fucking how’s-it-going-pal.” 

Jack tosses on a second log and then makes his way back to his position at the foot of your sleeping bag once more. The sides of his coat fan out like buzzard’s wings in swift descent.

 “And then, at the end of that perilous walkabout, it wasn’t God that appeared to Jeshua, no ma’am. It was the devil.” 

Jack, it seems, cant help his grin. You are reminded of the pair of leering vultures from Snow White, and it’s obvious what character he’s cast himself as in this scenario. 

“As for the ‘love’ part of the journey, well. That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? Love can take all forms. For Jeshua it was charity… and for ol’ Jacky? It’s something more akin to ‘obligation’”.

Jack pulls your sleeping bag taut and you clutch the lip of it while he uses his knife to cut a seam up the middle, exposing your socked feet and sweat pants. He grabs the toe of one of your socks and pulls it off your foot oh so slowly. Once it’s off, he drops it to the dirt and snatches your heel in his rough palm. 

“No kicking, girlie. Or I’ll chop off these little piggies… one, by, one.” He pulls and wiggles each toe individually with every word. You try your best to hold still, brain and heart a flutter and a panic. “And trust me, you’re going to need these little piggies where you’re going, sister.” 

That’s a good sign, if he’s telling the truth. If you need your toes where you’re going, he can’t have plans to kill you just yet, right?

“Where… where am I going?” You croak out.

“She speaks! Oh, speak again bright angel!” 

Jack rubs your instep with his thumb and there’s nothing sweet about it, the caress, the Shakespeare, it’s all taunting and goading. The way a bull is riled up before a rodeo. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Your voice is soft and meek in a way that your biology must be dictating, knowing it’s the last line of defense against attack. Supplication. Meekness. An appeal to the monster’s better angels. If he possesses them. 

“Well, sister. That’s entirely up to two things.” His hand slides up under the ruched elastic of your sweatpants and he drags his filthy fingers up and down your quaking calf. “How smart you are, and how quick you can run.” 

“How quick I can run?”

“That’s what I said, mynah birdie.” He squeezes your calf and bends over you, scooting his knees to cage your fragile legs. Your bones are hollow and your mouth is as dry as your surroundings. 

“Ol' Jacky doesn’t make a habit out of making wagers or killing pretty women. But I figure, in this case, two wrongs can make a right.” 

He scoots back and raises himself up from his haunches, pointing his knife down at you. 

“What’s going to happen is, I’m going to shut my ojos and count to a hundred. You understand?”

You nod. He bends over you and drags his cool blade, flat-side against your cheek. 

“It’s like hide and go seek. Sister hides. Brother seeks.” His breath is hot and musky, you’re tilting your head back as far back as you can from his shining blade and sharp smile. You nod. A hundred second head start is better than the position you’re in now, burrito-d up in a half shorn sleeping bag with him above you. 

“One, two, three, you better get to steppin’, four—“

Oh fuck, oh fuck, he’s already started. You twist over into a crawl, kicking the shredded bag off your legs, you get a face full of dirt before you’re able to stand and waste ten more precious seconds grabbing your water, pack, and boots. No time to put them on, not here. You sprint as fast as you can through the prickling terrain, over the crest of a sparsely shrubbed hill. Your eyes are on the ground, careful not to fell your feet on anything that might slow you down and his howl at your back in the night is like a coyote gaining speed, “see you real soon, sister!” 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | Nomad!Steve Rogers

summary: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Nomad!Steve Rogers. Dom/Sub Relationship. Daddy Kink. “Little One” Nickname. Crying. Angst? Bondage. Degradation. Overstimulation. Forced Orgasms. Asphyxiation. Anal Play. Hitachi Belt. Spreader Bar. Aftercare.

word count: 3,057

author’s note: I started writing this last year and totally forgot about it. oops! 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. 

“You didn’t do as you were told, so shut it.” Steve snarled with a harsh grip on your jaw.

He shoved himself away from you just as you began to weep. You let the tears fall freely, hating that you upset him so much.

Steve was seething as he stood in front of the fireplace, hands bracing on the mantle as his thoughts raced. Teeth clenched together in fury at the memory of finding you with your legs spread wide with fingers pumping away furiously in your cunt. He had to clear his throat twice in order for you to realize he was standing in front of you.

He was feeling savage. He wanted to teach you a lesson you’d never forget. He needed you to abide by his rules completely. You were his and he was yours. He’d never had someone he cared so much about and he intended on making this relationship work. No matter how difficult it was at times.

You stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge you again. Fingers twisted together as you sniffed the remaining tears away. The thin white dress Steve insisted you wear at all times while home made you feel so exposed. The fabric could tear so easily just like the relationship you built with him.

But you were determined to not let that happen.

With Steve still looking away, you knelt down on the dark flooring. The wood solid beneath your trembling knees, “Daddy.” Barely a whisper but it made Steve cock his head to the side, listening.

You cleared your throat wanting to speak clearly, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you but sometimes I just can’t control myself.” The admission made you cast your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. How could he love you?

Sniffling you carried on, “I will take any punishment you deem fit. I won’t talk back. I will take what you give me.” Your fingers dig into your thighs waiting with bated breath for his response.

Steve sighed watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mixed with his lust driven heat as he spied you kneeling on the floor. You looked so delicate. So easy to manipulate and dig his teeth into.

He bit his lip at the image of you writhing around in that pretty white dress he bought you. His blood began to boil.

Turning on his heel he stalks towards you, smirking as the perfect punishment comes to mind. “Little One…” Your head whips up quickly at his voice as he nears you, coming to a stop over your kneeling form.

“Follow me.” He commands and he turns towards the stairs making his way to your shared bedroom. You follow behind running slightly to keep up with his large gait. Steve holds open the bedroom door as you wait in front of him, trepidation flooding your system.

“Once you step over the threshold, I’m in control, completely. No crying, no whining, nothing will get you out of your punishment.” His stare holds yours. His authority washes over, drowning you in him.

Once again you repeat your words, “I will take what you give me, Daddy.” Your voice breaks as you call him Daddy, forever always wanting to call him that.

Steve grazes your cheek with the back of his finger lightly before letting his hand fall to your shoulder, pushing you into the bedroom. The sound of the lock clicking sparks excitement in your core as you wait at the foot of the bed for him.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Sit on the bed and watch as I set things up.”

Steve only made you watch as he set out the implements he intended using on you when he was truly mad. You watched as he disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a set of high heels.

Your brow furrowed in wonder as he set the heels down at your feet before going back to the closet. You peered down at the extravagant pumps, red in color with an extremely high, stiletto heel.

You remembered he bought them for you a while back but they were so uncomfortable you could never wear them out. Your attention was disrupted when Steve set a leather belt of sorts with an extra loop on the bed along with an Hitachi wand.

He walked over to the “play wall” and attached 2 separate wrist restraints to the rings in the wall. Your heart rate picked up as his intentions were revealed.

He means to make you suffer.

His dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before speaking. “I’m allowing the safe word, but only, and I mean only if you truly can’t go on.” You bit your lip as he spoke out the next commands.

“Take off your dress and put those heels on.” He nods down to the red stilettos waiting to be put to use. You stood on shaky feet, slowly unbuttoning the white fabric before slipping it off your shoulders leaving you bare to him.

Steve watched as you bent over, sliding your feet into the heels before standing tall and gathering your footing. The heels easily made you 4” taller as you stood waiting for his next command.

Already your ankles were starting to hurt. The awkward angle of the heels forced all your body weight onto your toes making them scream. Steve let you stand there a few minutes, enjoying your discomfort before continuing.

“Walk over to the wall and place your hands in the cuffs.” You sneak a glance at him before slowly making your way over. The heels made you so unsteady, you raise your arms out to the sides to balance as you walk at a snail’s speed.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you over there and I won’t be nice about it.” Steve grits with annoyance watching as you jolt mid step and almost topple over. Somehow you caught yourself and made your way to the wall as fast as you could.

You turn around facing Steve as you slipped your wrists into the restraints high above your head and waited patiently. “Good Girl.” Steve smirks walking over to you and then gathers the cuffs before pulling them tight against your wrists and locking you up.

“Now the real fun can begin. Are ready?” He turns to pick up the leather belt coming back with a grimace on his face, his tone laced with displeasure at having to repeat himself, “I asked are you ready, Little One?”

You gasp a reply once you realized he wanted you to speak, “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “You’re going to have to start paying attention better. This won’t be good for you if you’re already starting to slip.” He bends down helping you step through the leather belt and buckles it over your waist.

He steps back and gazes over your tied-up form. He always did enjoy tying you down and making you squirm. He palms at his growing hard on before stepping up to you, caging you against the wall with his massive body causing you to let out a breathy squeal.

He tips your head to look up at him. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’re going to work for it. I’m going to make you wish you never disobeyed me, Little One.” He lets his threat hang in the air as he walks back to the bed retrieving the Hitachi.

He attaches it to the leather belt and secures it against your already slick pussy. He scoffs, “Being in this predicament turns you on? God, what a slut.”

Your cheek heat with embarrassment as he nestles the wand head flush against your throbbing mound. Grunting aloud when he forces it over your clit harshly.

As he works on making it stay in place he speaks, “You’re allowed to scream, thrash about, cry, whatever. But you’re not allowed to ask me to take you out of these binds. You’re staying like this until I say otherwise.” You nod your head in compliance even though you were scared of the outcome. Granted, you knew he would listen if you safe worded but this wasn’t about that.

Steve needed to know he could trust you, he needed to know you’d listen to his every word and abide by it. So, you swallowed down your fear and raised your head, ready for whatever he chose to do to you. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve smoothed his hands over your hips as he stood to his full height. The way your breasts jutted out from your arms being raised over your head called out to be fondled but Steve kept his lust hidden. This wasn’t about him right now.

He leaned down and turned the wand on, clicking it until it sped up to the 3rd highest setting. Your body instantly spasmed. The strong vibrations were unyielding and forced you to feel the pleasure.

Instinctively, your legs closed together trying to keep the powerful vibrations at bay. The wand swayed in the air but never left your core. The movement causes you to see stars as it jostles against your folds.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to thwart your punishment already?” His tone was deadly. “Don’t worry, I have the perfect thing.”

Steve wanders away leaving you in a withering mess as you teeter in the heels. Your breathing quickens as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly. You pull at the wrist restraints frantically, “Daddy! Please! I’m close!” You call out desperately for him, not sure if he’s allowing you to cum or not.

Steve shouts his reply from deep inside the closet, “Go ahead and cum, Little One!”

He murmurs to himself as he spies what he came looking for, “It’ll the first of many.”

You cum with a wail as the vibe makes you convulse against the bondage wall. Your pussy twitches around nothing as your thighs shake trying to dislodged the horrid wand from your sensitive core.

“Here you go.” Steve says with amusement as he kneels down wrapping a cuff around your left ankle.

You look down in shock as Steve lines up the other cuff to your right ankle before strapping it to the spreader bar. “Now there’s no possible way for you to ease your punishment.” The biggest smirk is planted on his face as another wave of forced arousal courses through you sending you up another blissful peak.

“Awe, is my little Slut already feeling sensitive? That was only one orgasm. If you think I’m letting you out after 3, you’re in for a world of hurt.” His voice was cold sending you careening towards another orgasm.

Your eyes slammed shut as the tingling sensation lit up your nerves and sent you crashing down with another hard orgasm.

You tried catching your breath as the vibe forces more pleasure from you. The restraints hold your arms up so well you couldn’t even move them around all they could do was quake against the wall.

Heavy, pained mewls fill the room as you pant wildly taking every vibration as best as you can.

“Look at you. You love this.” He laughs at your pitiful attempts of trying to not cum. He palms at your tense face, pinched with determination. “Oh, it must hurt. The over stimulation must be torture.”

Distress paints your features as he degrades you further, “But that little pussy of yours got you in trouble. Such a greedy, little hole.” He enunciates the curse word with a pop to your cheek before taking your jaw back in his grip.

You gasp at the painful sensation heating the side of your face as it mingles with your swollen, sensitive mound. “Daddy! I-” Your orgasm starts up again fueled by the assaults on your body.

His fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks as you topple off the cliff with a shout. His hand keeps your face still, pushing back on the wall behind you.

“That was 3, Little One. I want to tear 7 out of that cunt tonight.” His breath hot on your neck as he forces his body over you.

Your body shakes at his command. A ragged sigh escapes you feeling worn out already from the onslaught of torture.

Steve cants his hips up and into your body, pushing the Hitachi harder against your mound. “No! Oh! Da- ” You shake your head as you feel another orgasm slithering its way through your system.

Teeth gnaw at your neck, biting up and down the crook of the soft skin. His muffled moans fill your ears as he thrusts his growing hardon into the toy, in return causing you to tumble down another peak.

The forced orgasm makes your body lock up, tight and ridged as your knees start to buckle and you sag in the restraints. Steve feels you slide down, hanging by your wrists letting the pain and torturous pleasure take over.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He grasps the hair at the base of your neck and pulls until your steady on 2 feet. “Don’t give up on me yet. You still have 3 more to go.”

You stare at him with hazy eyes. Your mind foggy and filled with nothing but determination even though your body wants to give up.

Steve swipes his thumb over your lips before he leans in for a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips as they slide over yours sends a fresh heightened wave of bliss up your spine. You moan lewdly into his mouth as he laps at your tongue.

He enjoys watching your tired body respond to the new sensations. He pulls away as you whine from the loss. “Hush.” He says, sternly with a harsh smack to your breasts causing you to spasm and scream in your bonds as another orgasm is ripped from you.

Your muscle fibers feel aflame as you come down from your 5th orgasm that night. Your head whips from side to side, unconsciously wanting to put an end to this punishment. You’re a quivering mess, tugging at your binds out of necessity.

“Stop it. You can do this. Show me you can do as I say.” Steve says with a firm voice, encouraging you. “Make it worth all the pain.”

You sniffle and close your eyes as Steve blots at some fallen tears rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes just as his lips close around his salty digits with a husky, satisfied groan.

Gnawing at your bottom lip your try to distract yourself from the overwhelming pain burning through your core and dragging you over hot coals. Steve’s hands wrap around your body, forming over the fleshy globes of your ass and grinds his straining girth against your heated body.

“If only you were good, it would’ve been my cock dragging all these orgasms from you.” His teeth clash onto your clavicle, drawing blood to the surface with a sneer, “Instead, I’m just going to have rut against you as your cunt drools all over the floor.”

His fingers slide their way between your cheeks, rubbing tenderly over your puckered rim causing your eyes to roll back, hard. Breath hitches in your throat as you propel steadily towards another raw crest.

“Maybe I should take pity on you and open this hole up. You did always cum so easily with my fingers up your ass.” He gloats, tapping the tight right of muscle in quick succession eliciting a frantic wail from your lips as you tip over the tumultuous edge.

Your head lolled forward resting against his powerful chest as exhaustion takes over. Your will power was dying and you let the tears flow. “Daddy, I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, “Not when we made it this far. You’re not giving up.”  

A calloused hand locks tightly around your neck cutting off your carotid artery. In an instant your mind spins, brain desperate for blood flow as your vision becomes blurred.

You tug uselessly at your bindings. Body shaking, ready to implode and cave in on yourself. Your ankles give way and the heels fall from your feet making Steve crush you harder into the wall.

His lips brush against your swollen ones, his beard tickling your dewy skin. “So close, you’re so close. Give me what I want. Show me you how sorry you are.”

Darkness sweeps in as your mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for water. Your body feels light as a feather, no longer could you feel the vibrations rustling your sopping core and your sore muscles ceased their tension as you give into the murky depths.

 A warm hand cups your cheek as a deep, soothing voice tempts you back from the sleepy haze. “Wake up, Little One.”

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in the comfort of Steve’s arms. A wet washcloth runs between your legs making you wince. Even the softest fibers felt like sandpaper as he cleans your swollen folds. “I’m sorry but just a little more and I’ll be done.”

You curl into his chest, unsure how to feel. Had you made him happy? You couldn’t remember orgasming the final time. The last image you had was Steve wrapping his hand around your throat.

You timidly swallow, feeling slight bruises pepper your jugular. Your throat raw from crying and screaming for the last hour. Steve set the rag down with a sigh and dropped his chin to look at you.

“Did I do good?” You bottom lip trembling with hope.

Steve runs a hand over tear-stained cheek and breathes out a soft chuckle, “You did. So good you passed out as you came all over me.” Steve tilts his head towards the pile of clothes currently stained with your arousal. “Made such a mess and showed me how good you are.”

Soft lips kiss your hairline and ease the stress you’d been holding ever since he found you touching yourself without his permission.

“I’m proud of you for being so strong. You made Daddy very happy.”  

Your eyes sleepily shut and you melt into the safety of his hold knowing everything would be ok.

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

��Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

Plz oh great author. I would just like... some dadV content. Just like. V and a child reader. Plz.

This probably isnt what you expected but, here's V being an adopted dad for a 5 year old reader in the ruins of Redgrave. It's not good, but its work. Ig

V x Child! Reader

Dad!V in the rubble of Redgrave.

You hide under the remnants of your bed. The ripped mattress and splintered frame providing little shelter from the horrors that lie beyond your eyelids. You weren't asleep, but still subscribed to the belief that the monsters couldn't get you if they thought you were asleep.

The sound of footsteps approaching lit a flame of hope in your heart, only for it to crash down the moment you heard the monsters come again.

It was so loud, crashing, screaming... were they fighting? If it was battle it ended quickly. And whatever entered your room won. You let out a soft whimper, curling into yourself. The foot steps approach the mess you called a bed. The sound of the mattress being pulled slightly made you burst into tears.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You open your tear filled eyes to see an adult, his black hair and dark clothes. "Mommy left me again- Are the monsters gone!?" His face was almost devoid of emotion. "Yes." "Are you sure?" At first. A smile smile splits his face as he offers you a tattoted hand. "Positive, little one."

_

We've seen before that he could care less about children at first glance, but the mentioning your mother leaving you caused him to instantly attach to you.

Alone, afraid, but this time, no way to protect yourself.

Deep down something inside of him told him that he needs to protect you. To take the job that your obviously useless mother could not handle.

You latch onto him quickly as well, your new protector. You think he's so cool, with his weird clothes, tattoos, and the funny things he says.

The second night he had you, you fell asleep pressed up against him as read a loud.

_

"When we see not thro the eye. Which was born in a night to perish in a night. When the soul slept in beams of light..."

He stops, green eyes boring down at your sleeping form. Your little hand wrapped over the edge of the corset under his coat. A small smile splits his face. Dispite all you had gone through, you still held peace. You would smile up at him after minutes of tucking your head into his side to hide your eyes from the gore that went on in front of you.

Your resilience is unyielding, and he cant help but admire that. It can make him forget that you are just a child. But now, layed out against his heart, he can see your vulnerability more then ever. You were so talkative, so kind, so soft, so... so... human. So very human. Just as he is now.

_

After some time with him, you'll be able to recite whole poems. And god he's never been more proud.

Technically, he's homeless, so finding somewhere safe for you to sleep is his first priority.

You never sleep alone. Never. Either he or one of his familiars is with you.

Scratch that, you are never alone.

He wasnt surprised by Shadow's fondness of you, but was by Griffon's.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah pip squeak, just don't pull on my feathers anymore."

V is easily annoyed, especially by people who talk too much. Unless it's you.

He can sit and listen to you chatter on in excessive detail about the random things you know.

Maybe that's why you and Griffon can get along. It's a constant back and forth of random facts and jokes that go right over your head.

You just like that he talks to you, he likes that he can make any joke and you won't get upset or offended.

V however, hates that he does this.

Seeing as how V tries his best to shield you from the world. You've already suffered so much.

He takes on the task of "dad" rather quickly.

_

You close your eyes tight as he pours the water from his cupped hands over your hair. V hums softly as he scrubs the filth from your skin. It was rather uncomfortable, taking a bath in a fountain, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as caked on dirt and splatters of demon blood. "We're almost done, I promise."

As soon as he found you to be clean enough he takes off his long leather jacket, dispite it just getting dry, he pulls you out and wraps it around you. He lays out your now dry and somewhat clean clothes and let's you try to dress yourself. Shadow letting you lean on her as you tug your clothes back on.

The warmth from fire used to cook the demon meat is enough to make you feel sleepy, if the exhausting day wasnt enough. You leaned against V's side, curling into him. His arm coming around you, assuring you that you're safe.

_

He accepts that he's pretty much your father very quickly.

But it hurts him. He knows what he has to do, and when that happens, what will happen to you? Who could he possibly trust to care for you?

He takes you everywhere, and doesn't let anything touch you.

It's truly Infuriating to him that he doesn't have the strength to carry you. Of course you ride on shadow, but when they handle demons you are left to mercy of the world.

The two of you being attached at the hip leads to a lot of confusion.

Mostly from Nero

"Why the hell do you have a kid???"

When he finally gets to settle down in Nico's van, you get to lay down for a nap.

And he leaves again, he leaves you to sleep. It was safe and he knew you would be fine there, and you definitely needed to sleep.

Nico, surprisingly, didnt mind you.

The entire time he was so nervous. It's been weeks, and this is the first time you haven't been with him.

When V eventually returns, he finds you chatting Nero's ear off. He didn't seem to mind though, he sat quietly with a smile as you talked.

It hit him then.

You could be safe without him.

_

He watched you fiddle with the metal fingers on Nero's devil breaker as you spoke. The young man making the fingers move, to your delight. Your eyes glowed and you looked up at Nero, he nods to what you're saying with a wide smile.

All of the worries in V's head melt away, but are soon replaced with a feeling of melancholy. You would be fine, you would be safe. Without him. He steps in, your head snaps to him, joy spreading on your features as soon at you realize. You run up to him, hugging his leg tightly.

It wasnt long until he has to leave again, and he knew it was the last time he would see you. And somehow, you knew something was wrong. Your small hands rest on his cheeks, sadness written on your entire being. He pulls you close, whispering to you softly. "I will see you again my little one. I will see you again."

Tiny arms hold tight around his neck, warm, wet tears slip down and fall onto his skin. "Are you sure?" "Positive, little one." You hold on tight to him, even after he lets go. Theres a soft whisper, bairly audible. "I love you, daddy." Then, you let go.

Getting to wave him off while holding onto Nico's leg.

_

He knew he wouldnt see you again, either he dies, or becomes one again. The likelihood of seeing you again with both of those options is little to none.

But he feels peace, you'd be safe. You are safe.

He gets weaker and weaker.

He's been close to it before, but this must be what dieing feels like.

Before reuniting with his other half, he still tries to make sure that you will be okay.

His crumbling body is leaning on Nero, hobbling to the end of his life.

"The child... If you survive, take care of them."

         amorosa // steve rogers

        chapter five: paris, france

 chapter one // chapter two // chapter three    

                    chapter four // chapter five

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

                             main masterlist

                            series masterlist

summary || steve takes you to paris to accompany him to a business gala where you meet an old friend and partner, discovering some secrets about your steven.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve x reader

word count || 2,023 words

warnings || financial struggles, sugar daddy dynamics, daddy kink, undefined age gap, minor panic attack, angst — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

     When Steve said that the private jet was learning first thing in the morning, he meant it. It was three in the morning, the sun not even close to being up as you rode through the empty and dimly lit New York streets with Steve's hand on your thigh.

    He decided to drive, sometimes you thought he was superhuman, running off of only a few hours of sleep, yet wide awake and alert.

    You envied him as your head lolled to the side as drowsiness washed over you. You yawned, big and loud as Steve chuckled.

    "You can sleep on the plane, Princess. I know early mornings aren't your thing." He teased as you shot him a tired look, but smiled as you placed your hand over his.

    When you opened your eyes next the car had stopped in the middle of the runway, a sleek private jet in front of you as your eyes went wide with excitement. You'd never gotten anywhere close to a private jet, the closest thing being bumped up to business class on accident.

    "Is this it?" You asked, sitting up as Steve opened his door, "sure is, buttercup." He winks, coming around to open your door and help you up. The air was cold, the smell of frost faint in the air as Steve wraps his arm around you.

    "I've never been on a private jet," you mumble, more so to yourself as Steve laughs in response. He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs of the jet until you're entering the lavish cabin.

    "Then by all means, Princess, let me be the first to introduce you to them." He purrs from behind you, arms snaking around your waist as you take in the clean leather and polished surfaces.

    "Steve this is…" you're at a loss for words, mouth agape as you spin around to plant your lips on his. You're standing on your toes, arms hastily thrown around his neck as Steve lets out a surprised grunt before catching his balance on the nearby wall.

    "All for you." Steve finishes your sentence and you just about melt in his arms.

    He chuckles when you explore the rest of the jet, taking the time to talk with his pilot, Léon, about the flight plan. Their voices are hushed as you enter the back of the plane, walking into the bathroom to take a moment for yourself.

    It's a lot, overwhelmingly so and you start to feel your heart racing when you think of Steve.

    You've loved before, but have you been in love? The realization causes your breathing to become shallower as you wonder if these past few months have been a whirlwind romance destined to burn out like the brightest flame?

    Or perhaps this bubbling feeling deep in the pit of your stomach has been blossoming, nearly blooming into what so many people refer to as love?

    You gasp when you hear soft knocking on the door, "are you all right, buttercup?" It's Steve, and the nickname causes butterflies to flock to your chest as you swallow your feelings.

    "Just checking out the bathroom," you giggle and well, it wasn't a lie.

    He smiles, taking your hand, "pick a seat, Princess, we take-off soon." Steve says before you're sliding into one of the comfortable, almost too comfortable seats and buckling into it. Steve's hand is in yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles as you feel the same swell in your chest.

~

    Paris, France.

    You'd never been, although you don't think you'll ever want to leave.

    When you arrive it's late in the evening, the bustling city life is alive and well as the car drives from one end of the city to the other and you still can't believe your eyes as you pass by the lit up Eiffel Tower.

    The hotel room is nothing but lavish, with tall windows, balconies, gold and champagne detailing and the largest bed you'd ever seen. The sheets are soft and clean and you want nothing more than to collapse into bed with Steve.

    The bathroom has a claw-foot tub, a full shower, and four sinks along with a velvet chaise.

    "How about a shower, Princess?" Steve asks, sitting on the bed as you fall back onto it. His voice is coarse and rough, no doubt tired from the many hours of travelling as your tired eyes meet him as you nod.

    "Here," Steve stops you when your fingers hook under your shirt, "let me," he offers before slowly undressing you.

    The bathroom is quiet, nothing but the sound of running water heard as Steve removes your clothing before shedding his. The moment is soft, gentle and caring as his touches are featherlight.

    Once the water hits your tired body, you let out a sigh of relief. It's warm, your muscles relaxing under the stream as Steve steps behind you. The glass door fogs up, encasing you in your own world as Steve's hands knead over your tight shoulders.

    "Just relax, Princess. Let Daddy take care of you tonight." He whispers in your ear, it's not sultry, but instead washes an overwhelming wave of relief over you as you let Steve take care of washing your body.

    A fluffy towel is wrapped around your body before the cold air even has time to hit your body. By then the water has lulled you into a state where all you want is for your head to hit the bed, engulfed by the covers as Steve's steady heartbeat soothes you to sleep.

    You aren't really aware of when you get into bed, all you know is Steve is telling you goodnight, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you're thrust into a state of comatose.

~

    The sound of quiet voices is what wakes you, bright sunlight streaming through the nearly translucent curtains making you squint as you let out a groan. You aren't sure how long you've been asleep, but it's probably far too long.

    You roll over, the alarm clock reading 11:37 and yup, you've definitely overslept.

    Who cares, you're in fucking Paris.

    "There's my girl," Steve beams, walking into the bedroom dressed in a casual, yet professional attire. Simple fitted slacks and a tight button down that's not done up all the way with the sleeves rolled up.

    You smile as he presses his lips to yours.

    "I've got some business to take care of this morning, okay? I shouldn't be more than a few hours." He explains as you give him a small pout. "I've ordered breakfast to the room, take your time gettin' ready. Tonight's the big gala so your dresses should be here soon, along with hair and makeup."

    Your eyes nearly bug out at the sound of his words, hair and makeup? Multiple dresses?

    "Don't act so surprised, buttercup. You know Daddy takes care of his girl," he smirks before standing up to his full height.

    "Guess I'll just have to find the best pastries alone," you playfully retort, "I love croissants, remember that." Steve winks before he's giving you one last kiss and disappearing out into the Parisian streets.

~

    Paris was breathtaking, beautiful, and everything you could've dreamed of.

    Yet you couldn't help feel out of place as you walked through the streets alone, soft music playing through your headphones as you tried to scout out the best café in the city.

    You felt stares on you as you tried to keep your head down, people stopping as they looked at you. Maybe you were in your own head, but you could've sworn you saw people take out their phones to… take pictures of you?

    No, you had to be in your own head.

    The hotel was in your sights as you bolted in its direction, a text message from Steve prompting you that everything would be arriving at the hotel soon and that he was on his way back to get ready.

    Your heart hammered, thumping as you realized that you would be on Steve's arm as he introduces you as… his girlfriend.

    "You okay, Princess? You've been quiet this entire ride." Steve asks, fingers lacing with yours as you look down at the gold satin dress you've chosen for the night. It compliments all your best aspects, the colour great on you as you nod your head.

    "Just nervous." You mumble, it was the truth as you felt your stomach churning as you approached the banquet hall. It was gorgeous, lavish from the outside and you couldn't imagine how much nicer it would be on the inside.

    "You've got nothin' to worry about. I won't leave your side, promise." Steve says softly, holding out his pinky for you to hook yours against it. You giggle, doing it as your worries vanish for a split second.

    When you walk into the hall it's littered with people wearing their most expensive gowns, suits, and jewellery as Steve grabs to flutes of champagne.

    "For the nerves," he jokes and you take it, the bubbly alcohol running down your throat distracting you for a second before Steve's hand is on your lower back, leading you through the people.

    "Hey Punk!" The voice that shouts it is low and deep, hearty and boisterous as Steve whips around with the biggest grin on his face.

    "You Jerk," Steve replies playfully, the two embracing in a hug as you take a good look at the other man.

    He's slightly shorter than Steve, dark brown hair in a loose messy bun paired in an all-black suit. If that didn't make him look intimidating enough, he's got a black and gold prosthetic to match his aesthetic.

    "So this the dame that's captured your heart?" The man smirks, casting his eyes on you as you can't help but feel your body flush.

    "Sure is, this is James." He introduced you, your name squeaking past your lips as you shake his hand. James rolls his eyes at Steve, pressing a kiss to your hand as you admire the cool shade of blue his eyes are.

    "Call me Bucky, Doll." He comments as Steve claps his hand over his shoulder, shaking his body as you're thrown into conversation with the two men.

    It's a strange sight, seeing Steve being thrown around by whom you learned to be his childhood best friend turned business partner some years ago. Though you must admit that you like Bucky, he seems like a good influence on Steve.

    "Here, I'll go grab up some more drinks," Steve offers, standing up to press a kiss to your cheek before striding off to the bar leaving you and Bucky alone.

    "You know I gotta admit Doll, I'm real surprised that Steve's found someone." Bucky muses, fixing his collar before turning to you. Your expression is full of confusion as you silently press him to explain himself.

    "After Peggy, I really didn't think the kid had it in him to love again, but here we are." He smiles, it's not malicious or venomous, it's a genuine smile but your heart has dropped into your stomach and all you can hear is the ringing in your ears.

    "Peggy?" Is all you can manage to ask as your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

    "Steve's ex-wife, he didn't tell you about her?" Bucky asks and suddenly he's got a remorseful, regretful look on his face as you shake your head, "no."

    "Paris has the best champagne," Steve breaks the conversation as you look up to meet his eyes, trying to hide your hurt as you take the delicate flute between your fingers.

    "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you say with a tight-lipped smile. You don't wait a response, quickly seeking out the nearest bathroom before you're holding yourself over the sink, trying to calm your breathing.

    Bucky's words continue to replay in your mind, an ex-wife, an ex-wife that he chose to keep secret? You felt tears brimming your eyes and you wanted to scold yourself for thinking a man of his power had no dirty secrets.

    How ironic to have your heart broken in the city of love.

tagging // @jennmurawski13​ | @nakedrogers​ | @vollzeitliebe​ | @kelbabyblue​ | @jevans2​ | @babyyhoneyydarling​ | @rogerslovesstark​ | @cloudystevie​ | @lahoete​ | @speechlessxx​ | @aikeia​​ | 

any and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

His Internal Flame

DabiXVillian!Fem!Reader!

IN THE MIST OF THIS DABI CHOAS OVERSHADOWING THE WORRY...of the government. I decided to just write about him. Ive always wanted to experiment with him and honestly, I’m really excited! I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: this may contain gore, violence, sexual activities, all around pure filth. Goodness. This idea just gave me an idea for Shoto

“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable” - Mark Twain

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heels clicked on the sidewalk while I casually walked away from the scene which I just created. The more I walked, the further trail of blood began to fade. I slipped a cigarette in my mouth while sliding my dark tinted glasses over my eyes.

It may seem ridiculous to even wear sunglasses at night but it was a hidden fact of my quirk. With a single glance, I could manipulate someone's thoughts, feelings, and more. It may seem like mind control but it's rather different. After a simple mind control quirk is activated by either speaking but with me on the other hand, a single glance and they were mine. Those irresistible eyes made their glance all mine to have.

I lit my cigarette while walking, shoving it back into my leather jacket as my hair swayed in the wind a bit. All in one day, I successfully transferred other money into your account, made a few men give me plenty of cash or clothes and as a cake topper, one earned a brand-new car.

I glanced up at the moon before stopping myself in the middle of an alley. I heard footsteps close behind me before I lifted my hands up as a hand touched my neck with a smirk on his face.

“Hey there Doll, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” He asked, his voice is the only one who could make me melt. With my quirk, I usually seem like a dominant while...Dabi knew how to break through those barriers of mine.

“I agree. I guess being a villain is hard work. I saw your little skit on the tel, Touya.” I said as he chuckled softly. His grip tightened as the heat from his flames started to burn a bit on my neck before he pulled away.

I faced him, looking up as he wrapped his arms around my body. His hands easing down to my ass as he gave it a soft squeeze. “It’s rather shooking such a princess like you could be so timid to me...” he said, making me a bit flustered. His burnt skin rubbed against my cheek of his shirtless body before I looked up at him.

I moved my shades to reveal my eyes before biting my lip. “Why don’t you remind me?..” I asked, receiving a harsh slap over my cheek from him. He smirked as his blue eyes gazed into mine.

“Why don’t we go to your place then?” He offered, freeing me from his hold. I shrugged before popping my gum. I pulled it out and smashed it against the brick wall before starting to walk. “It’s a bit messy but, come on then,” I said, leading him back to my home.

We walked into the fucked up place, drunk bastards laid at the entrance while the homeless laid in the back of the townhomes. I opened the entrance to the place and bent over to take my shoes off.

When I sat up to step onto my floor, a hand grabbed my body and pinned me against the wall. The door was wide open as his lips placed against mine, kissing my lips with force and passion mixed as one.

I moaned softly, lifting my head to meet with his tall stature. His hand slipped under my dress, turning me over and slamming me against the wall harder. My hands were snatched into his right hand while his left held me in place.

“Doll, What did I tell you about this dress?...” he whispered in my ear before I smirked. I gave him a bratty humph, acting more like Toga. “It’s one of my favorites and not one you ripped y-“

I spoke too soon. It instantly ripped off my body, leaving me in my black lace bra. He stuck out his tongue, admiring the view he was receiving and possibly next door.

“Could you close the door?..” I asked before he snapped his attention to the door. “What is it doll? You’re afraid all those people you fucked with will see you vulnerable?” He asked, sending slight chills down my back. He leaned close to my ear while his bulge rubbed against my bare core. “Don’t you think they deserve to see you exactly like this?” He asked, smirking.

Suddenly, the door was slammed shut as his left hand wrapped around my body. His fingers rubbed against my clit, making me gasp a bit while his right moved my hands to my cheeks as he moved me to kiss his lips again.

Of course, we’ve done it at the front door before like many other times but his words were getting to me a bit.

‘Don’t you think they deserve to see you like this?’

What the hell is he thinking? I knew that sick mind of his and how absurd he could get, I understood exactly what I was signing up for when we met.

I let out a soft gasp, finding my body mashed against the large glass window of my apartment. The trail of his clothes leads us here to the very spot. My breathing started to fog against the window as his smirk was in the reflection of the glass.

“You're kind of cute flustered, Doll. You act embarrassed but admit it. You love the thrill of being fucked like this.” he growled, lifting my leg.

My body was wide open for the world to see, to see I was messing with a dangerous villain. One that's slaughtered thousands without a single glance. A gasp seeped out of my body as he shoved himself deep inside me. My nails dragged against the glass before his hips moved at a rough pace.

My moans echoed throughout the empty home while Dabi enjoyed having me in the way I was. It was a small token for his “hard work.”

“Well, I see you’ve got an admirer.” He whispered, as my eyes snapped open, seeing across from us. A light was on as the shadow of someone standing in front of it was reflected.

“W-Who cares? J-Just d-“

My words were silenced quickly as his hands gripped my neck, letting my leg drop as he showed no mercy. My knees buckled while he slammed inside me. “F-Dabi! Fuck!” I cried out before he chuckled.

“Wrong name, Doll. Come on, use that vocabulary of yours.” He demanded, opening my mouth his hand as he shoved two fingers inside. They soon pulled out, drenched in my saliva while the abuse continued. The knot feeling tightened in my stomach while my breathing started to get a bit harsh. I was panting harder than a bitch in heat with my palms on the glass.

“Dabi, May I cum?!” I cried out before he smirked. I yelped in surprise before being slammed on the couch. My legs pulled over my head before he slammed deep inside me. My hands touched his abs, my nails digging into his burnt skin. Each hand of his, held me in place including his body while the rather strange position we were going wasn’t usual even for us. “You know what you’ve gotta say, Princess.” He repeated as I whimpered softly.

“Dabi! Please! I’m begging!!” I cried out, looking up at him as tears started to form in my eyes. His silence was agonizing, his hips wouldn’t stop their abuse against my cervix while my clit throbbed for a release. “Daddy, Fuck! Please!!” I cried out as loud as I could. I looked up at him, begging for his attention before his right hand pinched my clit.

Waves of overwhelming pleasure rushed through my body before my climax happened. My tongue thing out as I squirt, spraying all over his lower half and the couch. He lifted my head, staring into my eyes as he came inside me. The gushing feeling of his climax deep within my walls wasn't on my mind. He was. My heart fluttered with the disgusting feeling I had to keep under wraps. I hated that I loved him.

Just like that, it was over. He pulled out, cleaned himself off, and got dressed. Once his black trench coat was on his body, he made his way to the entrance.

“Make sure you lock up before you go, Okay?” I said, pulling a cigarette from my jacket. He chuckled softly before looking towards me.

“I won’t be doing that, It’s staying open.” He said as I looked at him confused. “Why is that?” I asked, trying to use my lighter but seemed as if the fluid ran dry. “I don’t need anyone coming here after our little show,” I added, standing up. When I stepped near him, a flame appeared over the cigarette before he walked to the door. His blue eyes looked back at me as the door closed, finally replying to my question for the first time. The way his eyes stared into mine made my walls throb, my heart race while my lungs lacked oxygen. He had me addicted.

“I’m not done with you just yet, Doll.”

Game of Temptation

➜ Words: 16k

➜ Genres: 60% Smut, 35% Angst, 5% Fluff, Succubus!AU

➜ Summary: As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it's still hard to resist Taehyung, and there's little you can do once you've been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don't know your intentions are far from being angelic.

➜ Warning: seduction, sex, homewrecking, infidelity, daddy kink, creampie, etc. There were no morals in the making of this fic. I do not subscribe to my characters’ beliefs, y'all. It's just some crazy fiction. Reader discretion advised.

It’s your chance to have a little fun, peach.   The four wheels of the luggage roll against the smooth pavement, over the cracks and up the massive driveway. The sweltering sun isn’t a bother when the feeling of flames licking against your cheeks is such a familiarity. Yet, you still feel disgruntled as Taehyung’s words ring inside your head.   I know you want to try your hand at it. And you’ve been telling me how much you want a little subordinate of your own. You could do whatever you want with them. There are no rules.   He’s a bastard. If it wasn’t for you being so wrapped around his finger and dancing in the palm of his hand, you would never do something this ridiculous. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. Taehyung’s words of persuasion act like you do have a choice when in reality, he mocks.   Yet, in spite of what you might really think, you continue on your way, lugging your heavy baggage up the stairs and steadying your breath. Feeling a sense of calmness, the pad of your index finger presses the doorbell. You listen to how the sound echoes inside the enormous manor.   There’s shouting, footsteps, and a second later, the door swings open.   There’s a plump woman with an apron tied over her body, her gray streaked hair pulled back into a bun. She’s out of breath as she is fatigued even though it’s only eight in the morning. But she still greets you with a smile that spreads into her chubby cheeks. “Hello! You must be the new live-in nanny and housemaid! Come in, come in. Don’t just stand out here! It’s so cold!”   She helps drag in your luggage.    The large foyer opens up to a grand staircase, two archways on both sides that allow you to peek into the chandeliered and golden curtain rooms. There’s antique china in a display case and vases on tables — more to paint a picture of wealth than for any actual purpose. But while one would expect a quiet and proper home, there’s chaos instead. Feet rumbling from upstairs. Sharp laughter and exhausted sighs. Noises of shouting and screaming.    “You’re younger than I expected. What’s your name?”   “Y/N, madam.”   “Oh, I’m not the madam,” the woman giggles at the thought and bats the air with her hand. “The madam isn’t as old as I am. I’m the Kim’s housekeeper, Ms. Yoo. We’ll be working close together. Have you eaten yet? The trip must’ve been long and tiring. Would you like to rest?”   The corner of your lips quirk. “I’m alright, thank you.”   “I’ll give you a tour around then. The faster you can become accustomed to this home, the faster you can help out.”   You nod, but before she can get in another word, there’s thundering stomps down the stairs.    A boy’s face pokes through the banisters and he gives a toothless grin. Not more than five years old, he wears a blue, collared shirt and khaki shorts, one foot with a sock and the other without — he’s no doubt a spoiled, little brat.   The kid makes a ruckus while running down the rest of the steps, jumping from the last three and he comes up to you, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks up. “Who’re you?”   You lower yourself and offer a soft smile. “I’m going to be your daddy and mommy’s new little helper. We’re going to have lots of fun from now on.”   “Jaesun! Jaesun, get back here! What did I say about slamming your bedroom door?!”   A frail woman with grating vocal cords comes down the stairs as well. Her chest is rising and falling, evidently winded from her son but her eyes visibly light up when she sees you.    “You must be Y/N, aren’t you?” She’s a pretty woman with few wrinkles even in her forties, dressed cleanly in a rosy blouse and white skirt. But her dark circles ruin the pristine image.    “Yes, I am, madam.”   She shakes your hand vigorously. She looks at you like you’re her guardian angel. An irony that tickles your senses. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I’m Kim Yijin, my husband is Kim Namjoon, but we should head to the kitchen to talk. There’s not much time left.”   The housekeeper smiles. “Yes, I was about to show her the way.”   “Let’s go, Jaesun.” You offer your hand to the boy and he happily takes it, something that Yijin doesn’t miss and even grins at.    The kitchen is twice the size of the foyer, two stove sets and two refrigerators side by side. The counter space is enough to stretch your entire body across and you can only marvel at the surroundings.    “I hope you don’t get too overwhelmed,” Yijin says as she turns to get her coffee started and Ms. Yoo sets out breakfast for Jaesun at the table. “But I should tell you now before I forget to. My family eats a gluten-free diet. Our Jaesun is lactose and tolerant, so he’s only to have soy milk and calcium-fortified orange juice. My daughter has poor digestion, so try to avoid whole-grains when you’re preparing the meals.” She stops for a second, lamenting, “and she has such bad skin these days, so avoid milk and anything bad, like instant noodles, even if she begs for it. The girl doesn’t know what’s good and bad for her.”   With her steaming coffee cup in hand, Yijin waltzes around the kitchen, forcing you to follow her whims.   “Make sure the kids have at least three servings of fruits and vegetables. My husband doesn’t like eggs and Jaesun isn’t supposed to have candy. Also, this is less important, but I really like fried foods that aren’t too oily, so if you have anything you can make…”   The corners of your lips lift. “I have a fried chicken recipe.”   “I like you already.” She snaps her fingers, smile brightening. She looks over to the older lady, calling out to her, “Ms. Yoo, I can get breakfast ready for today. Would you like to continue showing Y/N around?”   “Yes, I will.”    Even when you could tell from the outside, the house is grand. It’s a closed concept, full of mahogany wood panels, twisting halls, oak doors and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looks like a place Taehyung would enjoy.    “Every day, we meal prep breakfast, lunch and dinner. Typically only the master of the house is here for lunch, so we have to watch our portions. He works a lot from home. Oh, his younger brother is also living here for some time. He’s an editor, so he’s quite busy. I tend to deliver his meal to his room if he doesn’t come down for dinner.”   You nod, entering the living room.    There’s a giant family photo above the mantel that looks all too artificial — stiff smiles and pressed clothes with a white background. But the space is warmed with cedar bookshelves, a coffee table to match and perfectly positions cushion chairs. In one of them is a sleepy man with dark hair, sipping on a mug as he reads the newspaper.   He looks up at you, features more tender than expected.   “Hello.” You dip your head to the so-called younger brother, keeping your voice soft-spoken.   “Mr. Kim, this is our new helper,” the housekeeper introduces.   “Yes.” His voice is also surprisingly husky. “I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”   The two of you stare at one another until you dip your head as Mrs. Yoo keeps going and you leave the room, walking upstairs.   “We dust every day and clean the kitchen each night. Every other day, we do laundry and vacuum the rooms. The living space and foyer get especially dirty, so we have to stay vigilant. If your back ever aches from hunching over so much, tell me and I’ll give you some cream and heated pads.”   A door down the hall shuts and there’s an audible sigh. What follows are footsteps and a teenage girl in an ironed school uniform, backpack on her back. Her black hair is sleek, ending at her waist and in spite of puffy cheeks, her eyes are cat-like.    “Good morning, Sohee. Sleep well?”   “I guess.” As her pupils dart from the housekeeper to you, her steps slow and she halts altogether.   You lock your gaze with her and smile. “Hello. I’m the new housemaid, Y/N.”   You extend your arm, but she dwells — staring like a deer in headlights.   It takes a moment for Sohee to come to her senses and she shakes your hand while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly murmurs, “O-oh. Nice to meet you.”   “Sohee!” There’s a sudden screech of her name from downstairs, grating to the ears. Immediately, the young girl deflates.   “Coming!” she shouts back to her mom with a groan, rolling her eyes before running down the stairs.   The housekeeper smiles sympathetically. “Sohee’s going through a bit of a growth spurt, so she’s been a bit sensitive lately.” You nod and she continues, “We clean the bathrooms once a week and once a month, we wash the carpets. Your room is just this way.”   Down the corridor is a small mahogany door. But there’s grandiose double doors with golden handles right where the hall begins from the open area. And your strides reduce. You linger from curiosity and peer through the crack with an eye. Vaguely, you’re able to make out bookshelves and an imposing desk. More importantly, there’s someone seated in the leather seat behind it.   Mrs. Yoo notices. “Oh, that’s master Kim’s office, but there’s no need to bother him right now.”   Your body moves a little too late. While you’re still peeping through, the man behind the desk raises his head. Your eyes meet, but you leave before either of you can get a good look at each other.   The room you’re given is a meager space — more like a closet compared to the rest of the house. You hold in your scoff, looking around at the single bed. The empty desk. The tiny window with dead bugs on the sill. The wooden chair with splinters sticking out of it. It looks like antiques shoved in a shed. Not even Taehyung treats you this poorly.   “The bathroom is across from your room, so it’s rather convenient!”   You set your luggage down.   “Also, you’ll be watching Jaesun when he comes home from kindergarten. You’ll wash him and put him to bed as well. I’ll help you out until you get the hang of things, so don’t worry too much.”   You wonder if the old lady ever shuts up, but you keep your voice soft-spoken and your demeanour timid. “Thank you.”   “It’s not an issue.” Ms. Yoo pats your shoulder. “Oh, you can get settled a little later on. We should help the madam with breakfast. She doesn’t cook very well.”   It’s possible to get lost in this abyss of a house. There are endless halls and pompous rooms. You don’t understand the purpose of having a large music room next to a drawing room, but you suppose with this much money, it’s fun to throw it into a blazing fire.   The housekeeper continues yapping away as you make it back downstairs. But on your way, you catch a different individual standing in the foyer. Someone in a black suit with doe eyes, boyish features that draw you in.    He seems surprised to see you too.   “Ah, Jungkook! Have you eaten yet? Would you like a coffee?”   “I’m fine, Ms. Yoo.” He has a cute smile full of teeth and his eyes flicker to you. “This is...?”   “Oh, it’s the new helper I was telling you about. Y/N, this is Jungkook, Mr. Kim’s personal chauffeur. He’s been working with this family for almost as long as I’ve been here.”   “Not that long,” Jungkook retorts mischievously. “I only started here a few years ago after I finished school.”   “Only? Oh my. Feels like you started here thirty years ago like I did! Time goes by so fast!”   “Only when you’re having fun.” Jungkook grins and then redirects his attention towards you, clearing his throat. “I-It’s nice to meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand and dip your head with a tiny smile. He averts his vision too, becoming shy. Yet, when you lift your head, your eyes meet each other’s. You can feel the way his hand is getting sweaty, but you let it linger for a longer amount of time than necessary. Until you’re the one to let go.   He’s too cute.   You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.   The tension between the pair of you is only broken when a voice coughs from the top of the staircase and Jungkook breaks apart from you, taking a step back. You look up at the master, Kim Namjoon. A man in his forties, tall with a commanding aura. His hair is styled neatly, thick glasses sitting on his face, sharply dressed in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams of new money.   “Good morning, Mr. Kim.”   He hums at the housekeeper. “Good morning, Ms. Yoo. This must be the new helper. It’s nice to meet you.” The man comes down and visibly inspects you, as if trying to figure you out and only looks away when he’s satisfied. “I hope you’ll do a good job.”   “Yes, sir.”   “Are you going already, daddy?” Sohee comes from the kitchen, crestfallen. The volume of her voice is quiet and tapers off, “You’re not going to have breakfast with us...?”   “I don’t have time today.” The words tumble out and he looks at his phone. Ms. Yoo opens the door as he answers a call outside.    You look over at Sohee who’s become dejected. Her shoulders have slumped and her hair falls in front of her face. She pouts and tries to hide it. But Jungkook smiles softly and ruffles her hair.   “Don’t be so sad. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?”   “Really?” Sohee looks up at him, eyes gradually brightening and her cheeks becoming rosy.   He nods. “I’ll make sure to come early.”   “I’ll have to cook more eggs then,” the housekeeper chortles and Jungkook grins until his eyes travel to you. The glance turns into a gaze and neither of you speak until Ms. Yoo turns. “Come on, Y/N! We can’t dawdle all day now.”   “Yes,” you murmur and follow after her, all too aware of Jungkook’s stare on your backside as Sohee still talks without him really listening. Once you turn the corner, the older woman pauses and your brow cocks. “Is….there something the matter?”   She smiles endearingly at you and shakes her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. You’re just very beautiful, that’s all.”

The house is chaotic.   Before going to bed, Ms. Yoo gave you one piece of furniture to add to the sad collection — an alarm clock. And it blares with red digits reading that it’s five in the morning. Lugging yourself up, you’re bombarded with chores. From laundry to wiping down windows and making the bed.   “Excuse me.” You knock against the door and there’s a muffled ‘come in’.   Yoongi sits at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a red pen in his hand. His room is similar to yours, cramped and modest, but with a larger window and mattress, and a proper wardrobe and closet.   The man in his pajamas doesn’t look at you. “You can leave it there,” he mumbles and you set his tray of breakfast food on his nightstand.    Your eyes linger on his slouching form. But he never turns around, so you leave.   The noise and bickering from the kitchen can already be heard from the stair landing. The stove top fan is blasted while Ms. Yoo fries eggs, Jaesun sitting at the table with his legs swinging and spitting his cereal all over the place as he plays make-belief with his robot, but most of all—   “Why won’t you let me go?” Sohee is standing by her mother, exasperation and the furrow of her brows ruining her otherwise innocent exterior. “It’s only Yeeun’s house! And you already know her mom!”   “I already said that she isn’t a good influence on you!”   “We’re only studying! I don’t get why you don’t like her!”   “Her family is lower than ours.” Yijin forces herself to become calmer and feeds Jaesun a spoonful of yogurt as he plays. She glances at her daughter after a moment. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d become friends with Lee Sunmi. At least they have something to offer us. And are you going to eat that bagel? It’s filled with cream cheese. We have to watch your weight, remember?”   “Why are you always picking on me?” The girl drops her choice of breakfast and cries, “What about Jaesun?!”   “Are you going to compare yourself to your brother?” She gives her an astonished look full of disbelief, tinged with disappointment. “He’s only five.”   Sohee is frustrated to no end. “I hate you all!” She screams and stomps away as you resume slicing the strawberries, eyes lifting every so often. You watch as Jungkook enters the kitchen at the same time Sohee’s leaving. She pauses for a second but then pushes past him.   Her mother screams after her. “Sohee! Are you not going to eat at all?! That girl! So rude.”   In the meanwhile, Ms. Yoo reads the expression on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry. They never argue for too long.”   “Shouldn’t we at least say something?”   She shakes her head. “I’ve tried to get involved a few times, but it never helped much. Better to keep quiet. Every family argues.”   The housekeeper finishes up in the kitchen while Yijin settles down and sips on her coffee as she scrolls through her phone. She asks for a plate of fruits from Ms. Yoo and at the same time, you notice Jaesun scooping his cereal and purposely spilling it on the ground. No one notices.   It sloshes into a pile.   You hold in your cusses and grab a rag.   The five year old realizes he’s been caught in the act and grins like a little shit. You get on the floor, scrubbing the mess. But the moment the floorboards are back to brown again, there’s another splatter of milk by your hand and a spoonful of cereal flakes that follow. It splashes on your hair and apron and you raise your head to find the little shit plastered with a ginormous smile.   “Done eatin’!” He announces, scooting back his chair before running off in giggles.   May Satan have mercy on the child before you tear his limbs apart.   The minute you’re finished scrubbing the floor and clearing the table, you go off to find the brat. Because god forbid there’s a scratch on him.    You find him in the hallway between the laundry room and garage. “What do you think you’re doing?!”   There’s a bright red crayon in his tight fist. And he’s scribbling all across the wall while laughing at a piercing volume. At the sight of you, Jaesun draws a line as hard as he can until his knuckles are white, bits of wax are sprinkling and the crayon is a half the size it used to be.   The kid runs away before you can snatch him.   Much to your dismay, Ms. Yoo merely smiles in endearment when you tell her. “Kids like to have so much fun, don’t they? I remember when my son was at that age, he was such a troublemaker too. But it’s nothing a little baking soda can’t fix!”   You end up on your knees, scrubbing the wall with a damp rag dipped in the white powder.   You’re humiliating and exhausted.    Taehyung was wrong — there’s nothing fun about this whatsoever. You swear to God you’re going to murder someone.   “How are you doing?”   You look up, discovering doe eyes and pink lips quirked at you. Jungkook is dressed in his suit that’s a bit too big for him, hands dug into the pants pockets as he glances at the wall. You smile at him, brushing away the strand of your hair that came loose from your bun.   It’s not too bad of a time to be sweating. To allow the beads to roll down the nape of your neck.   “It’s tiresome, but nothing I can’t do.”   “I’m assuming this is Jaesun’s little artwork project.”   “Who else could it be?”   Jungkook grins boyishly. “Once he decided to paint the inside the car using the leather seats as his canvas.”   “Why don’t they ever discipline him?” you ask genuinely, tilting your head up at him and he matches the playful glint in your eyes before shrugging.   “Probably because he’s the youngest and the only son, so it’s natural they spoil him.”   “But this is a bit much, isn’t it?” You shake your head, voice pitching upwards into a whine. The irritation was leaking through the facade you’ve created, but all it does is make Jungkook’s grin widen.   “It is. You know—”   “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name in a screeching voice. “Can you come here for a second?”   “Yes!” For the most part, the crayon is taken off and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look over to Jungkook as a tiny smile appears on your features. “See you.”   “Y-Yeah.”   His eyes linger on you as you leave.   “I’m about to be late for work, so can you please bring this up to my husband?” Yijin hands you a wooden tray with a tall glass of some sort of sludgy green liquid filled to the rim. The drink stinks of kale and lettuce. You wonder if she’s trying to poison him. “He hasn’t gotten anything to eat yet and I’m worried. That man never takes care of himself properly. Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if you could Jaesun dressed. Don’t know where he’s run off to.”   You nod and balance the drink up the stairs before coming to the familiar grandiose doors.   You knock timidly.   There’s a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment, one that signifies he’s inside but preoccupied. Still, you push the parted doors open and come forward with the tray. Namjoon never looks up at you, busy studying the files of documents.   The room is warmer than expected, oaks and mahogany, paintings and bookshelves, a large desk that reminds you of a judge’s bench — imposing, commanding. Not unlike him. There’s a fireplace, two leather sofas facing each other and a coffee table in between, and above the mantle is another family portrait that exudes a kind of stiff perfection.   You place the glass down on his disorganized desk, eyes peering up at the man. As you retract your arm, your skin brushes against a stack of papers and they’re knocked to the ground. He whips his head over, brow cocked.   “I’m so sorry, sir,” you whimper. As you frantically pick them up, you bend over in front of him.   “It’s fine.” You feel his eyes linger on your rounded behind before he looks at his document again. You mask a smirk. Namjoon mutters from the corner of his mouth, “Where are you from?”    You purposely pause so he directs his attention to you again.   “I grew up in the countryside not far from here, sir.” You hold the tray to your stomach, presenting a timid disposition as if his gaze weighs heavily on you.   “And what did you do before you took this job?”   “I was in university, sir, but I’m taking a break to save some money.”   The man gives a pleasant nod. “What was your major?”   “Education, sir.” You divert your vision elsewhere, but a sweet smile pulls on your lips. “I would love to become a teacher someday.”   He hums in approval, “I could see you doing that.”   “Daddy?” The conversation is interrupted by Sohee at the door. She’s dressed in her school uniform, but is nowhere near ready to step into a classroom with the way she’s teary-eyed and her voice croaks with a lump in her throat. “Mom’s not letting me study with Yeeun!”   Namjoon exhales exhaustingly. He sits back in his leather chair, looking at the ceiling. Sohee’s eyes stings at how she’s evidently annoying her father. But you don’t dwell, bowing your head and dismissing yourself.   //   You would’ve never picked up this job unless you had to. Not even for the useless money.   You detest education. Never did well, never had fun, never got along with anyone. Be a teacher? You could scoff ten times over. You hate children. You hate kids. They’re absolute brats. Noisy at their best and tormentors at their worst. There’s only a few perks to this job.   Like right now.   “I’m glad to be of service,” Jungkook breathlessly laughs.    His hot breath ghosts along your cheek while your legs wrap and lock around his waist.   A comfortable darkness surrounds you. The moonlight cascades through the small window, enough that you can see his handsome profile. And the slick, obscene sounds are covered by the dryer machine still rumbling underneath you. It has the last load of towels the housekeeper wanted to get done tonight — and it’s also helping Jungkook release his load into you.   The vibrations of the dryer flow through your body, adding to his raw strokes and the moans choking out of you. It didn’t take much to convince him to sneak away. The one-dimensional family is completely oblivious too, sleeping upstairs in their warm beds. You’re tempted to whine Jungkook’s name louder and make one of them investigate. You wonder what the look on their face would be if they found their little maid and chauffeur fucking in the laundry room.   Jungkook tugs down your dress further and gently noses your hardened nipple before his mouth travels upwards to the juncture of your neck. You feel his lips suck into your soft skin, but the fingers sunk into his dark hair tightens and you pull his head back.   He gives a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes pinned on your face.   You writhe against his hard chest every time his thick cock drags out of your walls. He’s bigger than you expected. Eager too. Jungkook is a healthy and young one, hips and strokes fluid albeit a bit fast and excited.    You can tell he likes you a lot.   “I-I would’ve never guessed you hated kids.” The boy watches how his cock enters you and disappears. Your pussy clenches around him and he sweats at his hairline, trying to hold back from cumming so soon.   “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sing-song cutely and roughly pull him in by his shoulders, batting your lashes. “Can you kiss me, please, Jungkookie?”   He nods enthusiastically and leans in to nose your cheek. Then, he tilts his head and your mouth meets his. Your lips immediately part to welcome him deeper and his hands force your thighs farther apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Jungkook’s tongue licks into your hot mouth, making you moan.    Yet, the kiss is somehow sweet. Much too pure for someone like you.   The two of you break apart, lips wet with his spit. “I-I’m close.”   Jungkook’s strokes start to lose their rhythm. They become frantic. Frenzied. He can feel the shaking of the dryer jumping beneath you, how tight and wet you are around him.   You watch him through hooded eyes, tempted to coo at him and tell him that he can do it — encourage him that he can release his load right into your womb. But not wanting to ruin his fun moment, you instead squeeze as tight as you can.    Jungkook groans, hips jerking and he plunges deep inside your cunt to cum.    He gives two more thrusts. His entire body trembles and he realizes you’re still unfinished. Even with half a mind, he has the courtesy to lick his thumb and rub at your clit. You writhe with moans of his name, holding him close and a few seconds later, you get to where you want to be.   As you come down from your high, you pet him. “Good boy. Thanks for that.”   “Y-You’re so pretty.”   “Am I?” you hum and he nods madly.   Jungkook’s sticky breath heaves, chest rising and falling and you wrap your arms possessively around his shoulders. Whining incoherently, he understands that you’re pleading for another kiss. He happily obliges and you angle your head to deepen it. The kiss is lazier. Languid. Giving you a chance to taste him properly.   Jungkook starts to groan when you don’t pull away after thirty seconds.   He tries to part, losing oxygen. But you keep him in your tight grip. And you inhale.   It’s delicious. It fills you with a sense of euphoria, making goosebumps raise all over the back of your arms. It’s been a while since you’ve had a soul for yourself. And as it leaves his body, you feel him go limp around you.   Jungkook falls to the tiled floor, leaving a sopping mess at your center.   “Would you look at that?” A deep timbre sounds. He appears, manifesting himself across from you with the corpse in between. The corner of his thin lip is curled as if he’s impressed. His blonde hair looks white in the milky moonlight and the darkness causes his piercing brown eyes to glow. “Not too bad, peach.”   “It’s so easy, it’s not even fun.” You hop down from the dryer machine.   Taehyung’s devilish smirk grows. “That’s because you’re so naturally enticing.”   You roll your eyes.   He comes close, large hands lifting to cradle your cheeks. Taehyung kisses you without much warning — not that you need it — and he licks into your mouth, inhaling deep. He retrieves the soul you took, taking it right from your parted lips.   The two of you part and the thin strand of saliva breaks. Taehyung boops your nose. “I always knew my succubus was a talented one.”   You scoff. “Don’t act like you came here to praise me. You just wanted to collect the soul.”   “Can’t I come here for both?” He lolls his head, another smirk gracing his perfect visage that’s been sculpted by porcelain angel tears. “But it looks like you don’t need my help, so I’ll be on my way.”   Taehyung winks and takes the discarded body on the ground, disappearing with it. He vanishes as quickly as he came.   After he’s gone, you dip your hand between your messy legs.    It’s the last remnants of Jungkook and it’s salty on your palette when you lick your fingers.   //   The mattress is soft against your knees. It cushions and molds against you each time you push down. But still, your wrists strain against the hardened muscles and knots.   Yijin hums, a pleased smile on her face. “A little harder please. And oh, up there. Yes, yes. That’s the spot.”    You continue to massage her, making sure to knead your thumbs into the sweet spots. The madam of the house moans in satisfaction. If she wasn’t so annoying and if her soul wasn’t so bland to you — you would’ve taken it long ago. But well, she might be fun to have around a little longer when you start messing with her family more.    “You’re good,” she hums. “Where did you learn?”   “Here and there. My grandma had a lot of sore muscles, so naturally, I kind of picked it up.”   In reality, Taehyung makes you rub his shoulders all the time.   She looks like she’s enjoying herself, head placed to the side, eyes closed and the corners of her mouth raises. She’s melting under your touch. But even when she’s this relaxed, she still manages to yap.    “It’s been so long since I’ve been treated like this at home. I used to go to the spa often but there’s nothing like a home massage,” Yijin mumbles, “Namjoon used to do it for me all the time before we had kids and then he got busy with work, and well, it’s the reason we have this big house.”   She flips her head to the other side and you rub between her shoulder blades. “I used to be as pretty as you are.”   You keep your voice quiet and meek. “Pardon? You’re still pretty, madam.”   “You don’t need to flatter me.”   “But it’s true…?” Your voice pitches upwards as if you’re incredulous as to how she could think otherwise. “You have a maternal aura about you that I don’t have and you’re an established professional. Women can only dream of having that.”   Peering at her, you catch the way her smile sweetens.   At the same time, her husband enters the bedroom. Sighing and pulling off his tie, he places his briefcase down and moves to the minibar. Namjoon pours himself a glass of whisky and collapses into the white armchair beside the modern standing lamp, thighs spread wide and rather inviting. You look up at him, lashes fluttering in curiosity.   “What’s wrong?” Yijin opens one eye, clearly catching how stressed Namjoon is.   “I found that damn punk’s resignation letter on my desk. He’s gone.” He lifts his glass, taking a long sip of the amber liquid and letting the glass rest between his fingertips.   “Who?”   “Jungkook.”   “What?” Both of Yijin’s eyes peel back, pupils widening in shock. “How could that brat leave without warning?”   “I don’t know.” Namjoon looks to the whiskey, exhaling yet again. “After years of working for us, he upped and disappeared. I guess workers are always like that. Sohee’s been crying and throwing a tantrum. But anyway, I need to hire someone new. I don’t know who’s going to work this far from the city though.”   You continue rubbing Yijin’s back and you feel Namjoon’s gaze traveling to you from his place on the armchair. From the profile of your face, the nape of your neck, to the skin of your thighs that’s exposed from your dress being hiked up so you’re able to kneel on his mattress.   Yijin makes a noise. “Well, there’s nothing we can do. Do you want a massage too? Y/N’s really amazing.”   Namjoon looks away, tearing his eyes from you. “No. I’m fine. I only need to rest a bit before I have to go back to work.”   His wife opens her eyes again and this time, she gets up. You lean back, allowing her to do so.   “Oh my goodness! Your associate is coming for dinner tonight, isn’t he? I almost forgot!” She snaps her fingers and looks at you. “Can you please draw me a bath, Y/N? I have to look presentable.”   //   The business associate is Taehyung.   You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder when you see the blonde seated on the leather sofa as if he owns the place, suit and tie crisp, shoes polished. You don’t know what he’s doing or how he even set himself in their lives, but you suppose you had planted yourself in this household in dubious ways too — with his help, of course. So you don’t question it too much.   “I must say, this house is much more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”   “That’s all thanks to my wife,” Namjoon chuckles, hands clasped together. “She has a better sense of aesthetics than I do.”   Yijin smiles. She’s dressed in another one of her rosy blouses and white skirts, polished without a hair out of place — to both play the role of the perfect wife and appeal to the handsome stranger. “Thank you. I wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago, so it was really fun to try my hand at it even if it’s not much.”   “Nonsense. It’s wonderful. Do you still want to be an interior designer now? You certainly have the skills for it.”   “Oh, no.” She bats the air with her hand. “I lost the dream when I got married and had kids. Plus, I don’t think I could ever work for anyone. It doesn’t really suit me.”   “Ah.” Taehyung leans back, all too comfortable as he is playful. “You prefer reaping the benefits of your husband and enjoying yourself? Can’t say I blame you.”   The corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts while you approach with a bottle of wine, setting the crystal glasses down for them. “You know how women are.”   “On the contrary, they’re the more intelligent ones for letting us do all the work while they take pleasure,” Taehyung says, causing the other man to laugh and agree. You round the table to pour him a glass of wine and Taehyung looks at you with that infamous smirk, but you try to not make eye contact for long. “Thank you.”   You dip your head wordlessly.   “Oh yes.” Yijin perks up. “Thank you for recommending the company that you did. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to hire Y/N.”   “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to help.” He smiles, taking the stem of the wine glass and rotating it to slosh the ruby liquid inside. “I take it she’s a good addition to the house?”   “Yes, she is.”   Taehyung exhales through his nostrils, lips adorned with a devilish smile. “I’m glad.”   You return to the kitchen unscathed, but damning Taehyung in your head for messing with your game. Though your irritation can’t last for long when Ms. Yoo hands you a wooden tray heavy with bowls and dishes. “Can you bring this up to the master’s younger brother? He’ll be having dinner in his room today.”   “Okay.”   You knock on the door. There’s a pause and after a moment, you open it.   Yoongi is in the same spot he was this morning, crouched over his desk with a red pen in hand, papers in front of him and round reading glasses perched on his nose. The curtains are drawn but the glow of the lamp gives him enough luminescence to work.   “You can leave it over there,” he mumbles and you place it on the usual spot.   The man never raises his head or pays any attention to you.   Your brow cocks and you take the tall glass, deciding to bring it to him. “Here’s some water, sir.”   And you purposely waver. The liquid sloshing on the sides and unceremoniously spills onto his lap. Yoongi jolts, arms lifting to save his papers while you sharply gasp. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”   You fall onto your knees and begin dabbing all over his lap and crotch with your apron. Yet your antics doesn’t last for a few seconds before he’s brushing your hand away. “It’s fine. It’s just water.”   You peer up at him through your lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim.”   “I told you to leave it over there,” he grunts, casting a measly glance at you. “But it’s fine. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I have a lot of work to get done.”   You rise to your feet and exit. He’s a harder one to crack. Those little tactics might not be enough, but you’ll get there soon enough. You’re certain of it.   “Y/N?” There’s a strangled whimper and you turn around in the dark corridor to see Sohee emerge from her room. The area underneath her eyes are reddened, nose raw. Her whole body trembles as she sniffles. The girl looks small and vulnerable, almost like a puppy.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask gently, akin to a mother cooing at her child.   Sohee’s eyes flicker up to you. “Did...Jungkook ever tell you anything before he left?”   You shake your head. “No. We were never that close. I’ve only spoken to him a few times.”   She nods. There’s a beat of silence and you lift your hand to caress her hair. The girl is startled but then eases, even leaning into your tender touch. You draw your fingers through her long, straight strands, petting her gently. “I’m sure he left for good reason. Maybe something happened or it was a family emergency. He was always close to you, right?”   Sohee nods again while choked cries come from her. “W-We were family.”   You embrace her, patting her back and she leans on your chest. “You’re not alone, Sohee. You have me now and I won’t ever leave like Jungkook did.”   She squeezes you back.   But the moment is shattered by a grating voice of her mother. “Sohee! Where are you?! Get down here and greet your dad’s friend!”    Her jaw clamps. She parts from you, rubbing her eyes.    You watch her go and she turns around to look at you. You smile at her.   //    “Your maid outfit’s cute.” He appears. A creeping shadow casted against the wall first, then flesh that stitches into the room. You’re resting on your bed, leaning against the headboard and filing your nails one at a time — the yellow glow of the desk lamp giving you barely enough light. “I didn’t get a good look last time.”   “What are you doing, Taehyung?” You blow against your index finger and finally ascend your gaze.   “Just having a little fun,” he chimes and muses that— “You’re taking a lot longer than usual.”   “Well, I’m just having some fun.”   Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t take too long.”   “You shouldn’t act like you’re busy when you’re not,” you bite back without missing a beat.   His brow cocks, smirk playing on his lips. “I think it’s been too long since I’ve disciplined you.”   Before you can react, he ambushes and pins you flat onto the bed. Taehyung hovers over you with a glint in his eyes, heavy body on top of yours, hips pressed together. He holds your wrists above your head, preventing you from squirming. But you make no attempts to do so, simply glaring at him like a petulant child. You’re neither surprised nor caught off guard. Taehyung always likes to be the one on top, in a literal and figurative sense. And truth be told, you don’t particularly mind.   His pink lips are curled and he leans down to your neck. He starts to suck into your skin, rough enough to break through and your pathetic cries only spur him on. Making him smirk against you. But your fingers find their way into his hair and you yank his head back.   Flesh coated in his saliva, a giant purple bruise is left blooming on your supple skin as the redness fades. “I told you no marks.”   “You’re going to need it, peach,” he says with a mischievous grin and then vanishes.   You’re left rolling your eyes.   //   The grandiose double doors have never been intimidating. Even when Ms. Yoo has warned you on your first day to not disturb the master working and to not approach unless necessary. As much of a brat as the five year old is, even he doesn’t come close to his father’s office.   But to you, those doors have always signified that a very fun game is waiting behind them.    Your knuckles rap against the wooden surface and you pull the golden handles without waiting for confirmation. Kim Namjoon’s seated in his leather chair behind the imposing desk, eyes flickering upwards and you smile, holding your tray higher. “It’s fruit, sir.”   “That isn’t necessary,” he says and you feign dejection, downcast eyes, shoulder slumping. He swallows hard and then beckons you over. “You can bring it here.”   You come forward and place the plate on a single empty spot on the desk not coated in file folders. You’re close enough that he catches a whiff of your scent and the hickey on your neck.   A scoff spills from Namjoon’s chest.   “You’re doing a lot of unnecessary things in my home,” he comments offhandedly, perhaps not for your ears to hear. It’s passive aggressive and you mask your smile. Namjoon looks at you. “I would prefer if you would work properly and complete your duties without doing much else.”   You feign confusion. Wide-eyed blinking. Lashes batting.   As if giving you the reason for his mention, his eyes linger at the hickey.   In a delayed manner, your hand raises to the juncture of your neck, covering the spot Taehyung made like that alone could remove it. And then, you immediately drop to the ground on your knees.   “I-I’m so sorry, sir. It...it wasn’t my fault,” you cry out, searching the floor as the volume of your voice becomes timid and shy. It isn’t hard to come up with an excuse. “J-Jungkook did it. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he cornered me in the laundry room and I..told him to stop...but…”   He slams his desk.   Hand curled into a tight fist. Making the pens on the surface jump. It’s startling and you look up at him, viewing just how upset he is. “He left the next morning and hasn’t been back…”   “So that’s why he left. Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon stares at you in distress. “This is very serious.”   You shake your head. “I was afraid of saying anything. I know Jungkook’s been here longer than I have, so I didn’t think anyone would believe me and I can’t lose this job, sir.” Your head tilts to look up at him, eyes gleaming through your lashes, lips pouted, still on your knees. “I’m sorry.”   The man sighs. “There’s no reason to apologize. If he ever comes back, I’ll call the police immediately. No one in this household should ever feel unsafe. I’ll promise you that.”   You nod and he helps pull you up by your arm. You stagger upwards and on weakened knees, you stumble. With agile skills Taehyung would be proud of, you land on the man’s lap. Perched on his spread thighs, your legs placed along one side, and hands securely on his shoulders. Namjoon’s steadied you as well with his own palms sprawled on the small of your waist. And your parted lips are gasping mere millimeters away from his.   It’s an intimate moment. One where your gazes lock. One where you make sure lasts three seconds to imprint into his mind.   And then true to the character you’ve created, you pull yourself away. You grab your chair and dip your head. “I’m so sorry, sir.”   Before the master of the house can get another word out, you run out the room.   The minute you’re outside, you run into Yoongi. Passing by, he cocks a brow at the way you frantically shut the doors and your breathing is laboured as if you ran a marathon.   “Something wrong?”   Your head shakes and you devilishly smile at him. “It’s nothing at all.”   //   It’s a game with these mortal men.   You know they want you — that they helplessly dream about you at night. Your words, your lips, you crawling over to them and doing whatever they ask. Showing what reality could be. But the more you let them peek without giving it to them, the deeper they fall into your trap of honey.   “What do you think?”   You place the papers down, a tender smile placed on your features. “Shouldn’t you ask your uncle who’s an editor to look over your essay instead of me?”   Sohee playfully sulks. “Yeah, but he’s always busy. I don’t want to bother him.”   “You made a few errors here and the conclusion isn’t as strong as the introduction. I think you should expand on this point into one or two more sentences. But overall it’s very well written, Sohee. You might even have a knack for writing.”   The girl nods with a grin and when you stroke her hair while telling her how proud you are, she looks up at you and leans into your touch.   Ms. Yoo enters the dining room, endeared at the sight of you and Sohee sitting together at the table and working on her homework. She’s reluctant to interrupt but does so anyways. “Y/N, the master is calling for you.”   The housekeeper never tells you for what purpose, but you have an inkling sprouted from your intuition. Swiftly, you leave and Ms. Yoo takes your place as Sohee continues on other assignments she’s able to do on her own. The pair of them are equally unsuspecting.   It’s evening and long after dinner. The sun is dipping over the horizon, crimson shades fuzzy in the sky. Everyone is preoccupied and there’s no real reason why he should be calling you.   But you don’t hesitate.   Your knuckles rap against the grandiose doors. There’s a pause and you push it open.   Inside, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace — above the mantle is the family portrait — and the man is standing and staring at the flickering flames. His face casted by the warm glow and he’s nursing a glass of whiskey. Namjoon raises his head as you push the door back to where it was, leaving it slightly parted.    “Good evening.”   “Is there something wrong, sir?”   He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking and I...realized I haven’t been as kind to you as I should’ve been. It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t a safe place for you and I want to change that. I don’t want anyone in this house to be afraid.”   You know he’s referring to what you’ve accused Jungkook of doing and promptly you close the distance. Your steps are slow as your hips sway and you look at him through lidded eyes.   “Sir.” You keep your voice low. “This has always been a safe place to me, because I know you’re here.”   Your eyes locked into one another and a tense silence lingers.   Finally, Namjoon swallows hard and diverts his vision. “Would you like a drink?”   “I-Is that allowed, sir?”    “I’ll allow it.” The suited man smiles and moves to sit on his dark leather couch.    There are two couches facing one another by the fireplace with a coffee table in between, opposite of his desk and the bookshelves. A once private sanctuary meant for no one but him, yet you have an exclusive invitation.   His thighs spread as he gets comfortable and he reaches for the fancy bottle of whiskey. Namjoon pours a glass of the amber liquid. It sloshes on the side and he extends his arm.   You take it nervously as if you’ve never drank much before.   “You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t want to.”   “It’s not that.” You smile at him through your lashes. “I’m just wondering how expensive it is.”   Namjoon scoffs lightly, but not out of malice or annoyance. It’s from endearment. “You don’t need to worry about that.”   The rim of the glass is placed between your plush lips and you take a sip. It’s bitter, but slides smoothly down.   He watches you and in the meanwhile, your eyes flicker away from him. Something catches your attention on a mahogany bookshelf, so you cross the room. You allow your knees to brush against his, the loose strands of your hair nearly skimming along his nose.   Namjoon clears his throat, holding the crystal glass casually between his fingertips. “Can I ask what kind of perfume you use?”   You twist around with another easy smile. “I don’t really use any, sir.”   Bending over in his line of vision, you look at his stacks of books and other knick-knacks on his shelf. “You have chess?”   “I do.” He places his glass down. “Do you want to play?”   You turn around with another coy smile. “Can we really?”   The darkness of the room thickens, fire crackling and sputtering in the background. The glow is dim against your profiles and casts your shadows along the wall. The game of chess has been set on the small table. You tell him you barely know how to play to which he replied he’d go easy on you. A few minutes have passed and you’ve moved a few pawns around. Yet, it’s intimate and quiet as if the room is hidden away from the rest of the house. Something you’re sure isn’t too far off.   “Are you alright, sir?” you ask in a husky murmur, pupils flickering up to him as he’s mid-way from taking another sip of his whisky. “You seemed pretty stressed a few days ago.”   Namjoon leans back into the seat. It sinks underneath his weight. His thighs are spread as you hold your knight, still debating on where to place it on the board. “I still am, but it's just the usual business stress.”   “Your wife worries a lot.”    You place the chess piece down and he leans forward again, capturing your pawn with one smooth move of his rook.   “You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know she doesn’t care.”   “That’s not true,” you refute half-heartedly. “Why do you feel that way?”   “It’s obvious,” he mumbles and takes another pawn of yours when you move it. “My wife is more preoccupied with using my credit card and all she does all day is nag which makes it worse.”   You move your bishop across the board.   “Because of her, we have to have two live-in maids in the house at all times,” Namjoon continues. The liquor makes it easy for him to relax and let the truth spill. He’s defenseless. “Sohee doesn’t get along with her at all and Jaesun isn’t disciplined whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why my family is like this and where it went wrong.”   The older man exhales and slides his king forward.    He waits for your next move, but you don’t go.    Your gaze is pinned on him and his eyes travel upwards to connect with yours.   “It doesn’t need to be that way, sir,” you whisper.   It’s your moment. You can feel it. And you disregard the game in favour of crawling towards him. The chess pieces knock over, some to the table and the others collide to the ground.    He has no idea you were two moves away from checkmate.   In seconds, you straddle his thighs. Namjoon’s at a loss, arms not yet touching you, but hands never pushing you off of him. His eyes have gone hazy. He’s completely entranced by you, bewitched under your spell. Vulnerable to your seduction and the wicked temptation you offer.   “What are you doing?” His breath laboured and he tries to muster sternness to no avail, as if you shouldn’t entice him with such a dangerous game.   The corner of your lip pulls into a devilish smile. “I’m doing to fulfill every single one of your fantasies, daddy.” And you kiss him. Slotting your soft lips against his chapped ones, letting them move gently. It’s a brief moment before Namjoon surges forward like a man possessed.   Namjoon’s hands grab your ass and he pushes you forward until you’re sitting directly sitting above his crotch. You whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His brows furrow, mouth parting from the pain and you steal the chance to deepen the kiss.    He struggles for control but you ultimately give it to him, feigning submission.   It’s too easy.   You roll your hips over his hardened crotch, feeling how your panties stick to your slick folds, and he grabs hold of your waist. The pair of you break away from the kiss with your arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders.   “God, you knew what you were doing this entire time, weren’t you?” Namjoon’s chest heaves against yours. “Every time you fucking bent over. Every time you tried to play coy. Such a goddamn tease.”   His fingers rub over your wet lips then down to your neck and collarbones. His hands travel to the low collar of your dress and then he tears it. The fabric rips against the threads and you whine in shock. But Namjoon never halts, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. He grabs a handful of your soft breast and pinches your nipples roughly until the bud hardens against the pad of his fingers. You sob out as he watches you through lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way your expression contorts into pleasure.   “I can see why Jeon liked you so much.”   “But I didn’t want him to touch me, daddy.” You pout at him. The thin layer of your panties and his slacks prevents you from feeling it completely, but it’s still dry fucking. “I-I only wanted you.”   “And you’re going to have me,” the man grunts and pulls aside the skirt of your uniform. His hand dips past your thin, white underwear and his fingers feel against your folds.   “Fuck,” he hotly exhales, “you’re soaked. Do you really want me that badly?”   “Yes, daddy.” Without warning, Namjoon’s index and middle finger plunges into your cunt until he’s knuckle deep. You cry out, hugging him tighter to you and he pants, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.   “Your cunt is so tight.”   You squeeze around his prodding fingers. “Tighter than your wife’s?”   Before he can answer, you kiss him again. Your sticky tongues interlace, sloppy and obscene. You taste his spit at the back of your throat — and it’s just the way you like it.    The kiss lasts long enough that you can swallow his groan and you pull off his suit jacket. The rest of your dress pools around your hips. It becomes frantic after that, breaking apart just to rid of your clothes. He tosses your ruined underwear aside, but keeps the rest of his own attire on.   It’s some kind of power play as if you should be the only one naked and vulnerable.   Yet he’s oblivious to how you have him wrapped around your finger.   “Tell daddy.” The older man’s hand wraps around your throat gently. “Have you ever been fucked properly before?”   His slacks have been tugged down enough that his cock has sprung free and his other hand grips the base of it. The reddened tip leaks with a bead of precum and you eye how big he really is. It’s more than Jungkook’s but less than Taehyung’s.   You shake your head and lie. “No.”   Namjoon cusses.   “Is that okay?” you timidly whimper and he smirks.   “More than okay, baby. It won’t hurt too bad.”   He guides his shaft to your pulsing cunt and runs the head of his cock along the collected wetness that has stained his pants and dripped to his leather couch. Both of you lower your heads, watching as he starts pushing through your folds. Immediately, your fingers tighten on his shoulders, wrinkling his expensive white shirt that was ironed by his wife.   Namjoon shushes you. “Relax. It’s okay.”   “I-It’s too much, daddy,” you complain in a pitched voice. ��It’s too big.”   His jaw ticks, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your parted thighs. “You can take it.”   You nod and sink down on him slowly, making sure to draw it out as long as you can. And Namjoon’s head falls back. He groans and makes it balls deep inside of you.   You make sure to tremble and squeeze around him, keeping his cock at a vice grip. “Is this okay?”   “Uh-huh, sweetheart. It’s great.”   With his eyes closed, he misses your smirk.   You begin to fuck yourself onto him, feeling the pull and thrust of his big shaft dragging along your wet walls. The way your cunt stretches deliciously. Namjoon meets you half-way, hips thrusting upwards while you rock yourself against him. Your nipples are hardened and your breasts bounce in front of him. Tying the sight all together, you reach behind and pull the pins from your hair, letting it cascade down.   You know it must be a sight for sore eyes.    While you’ve never flaunted your appearance, you know you’ve been subtly altered to lure mortal men in. Your face and body are the accumulation of their fantasies. And it’s effortless to tempt them. To captivate their attention with a simple smile. You’ve looked at yourself enough times in the mirror to know that you aren't shabby too.   “Daddy, it f-feels...so good,” the words are choked out of you, sobbed as you bat your lashes.   Jungkook, the poor boy, was much more eager and sweeter. But with Namjoon, his experience is evident in his strokes. He’s rougher with the way he squeezes your ass until a handprint is left. There’s less regard with how he treats you, as if you’re just a pretty placeholder merely giving pleasure.   His hard thrusts against your cervix would hurt if not for how the pleasure overtakes you.   “You have to pull out, daddy,” you stutter. “I-I can’t get pregnant.”   Your kind can’t carry children from mortals but he doesn’t need to know that.   “I’ll do whatever I want,” Namjoon grunts, jaw clamped and brows furrowed. He sweats at his hairline. “I’ll cum where I want.”   You give a loud and exasperated moan that you hope he enjoys. “B-But it’s not right.”   “Shush. I’ll take care of you.”   You squeeze around him again, hands tight on his shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he revels in the feeling of you rocking against him and you smirk, looking down at him. At how pathetic he’s gotten.   Just sitting on his lap and giving a simple kiss was enough to reduce him to this mess. From an established mogul in his forties into a helpless, hormonal teenage boy. In a few minutes, he’s thrown away years of marriage and loyalty for his wife for some maid’s cunt. A measly housemaid who’s supposed to be only a few years older than his own daughter.   Taehyung was right — this is fun.   At the same time, Sohee walks up the stairs while humming, hugging her textbooks to her body. She beelines straight to your room at the end of the other hall, wanting to show off how she’s finished everything and secretly hoping that you’ll gently stroke her hair like you always do.   But as she passes by her father’s office, her ears catch a high-pitched whine. She stops. On sheer instincts, her head swivels over. And through the crack, she finds her dad’s backside. She sees the way you’re on top of him, naked, riding her father. Your eyes flicker to her through the gap. She gasps.   Sohee backs away into the darkness. She turns around, a thick lump forming in her throat, her brows knitted together. But she doesn’t watch where she’s going and her mother meets her in the corridor.   “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed, Sohee.” Yijin’s voice is grating to the ears and she frowns at her daughter’s disposition. The way her downcast head and eyes search the ground. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?”   She doesn’t mean to — but Sohee’s eyes incidentally travel back to the grandiose double doors.   And Yijin follows her line of sight.   //   “I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Her screeches fill the manor. It’s always been noisy, but never solely because of an individual and certainly never at this ear screeching pitch. “How could you do this to me?!”   Yijin’s absolutely deranged. She’s throwing a fuss early morning after what she saw last night and retreated to her bedroom. She waited for him to return. Yet Namjoon never came to join her.   Now she stands at the foyer with a suitcase that Ms. Yoo packed, but she has no plans of leaving. Instead, she’s tossing porcelain vases on the ground and tugging the tablecloth off of the table. The display case is open and fragments of antiquities litter the marble floor.   Jaesun is crying hysterically at the staircase while rubbing his eyes with two tight fists. Sohee remains silent, standing at the top and looking down at her mother.   “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The woman shrieks at Namjoon who stands there motionlessly, expression blank and impassive. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be satisfied until she gets a remorseful reaction from him or tears this entire house apart. Either of which you’d be amused to see. “You selfish bastard!”   Although this was entertaining in itself. You’ve never seen her like this before. The once polished and poised woman has been diminished to this vengeful bitch that’s about to pop a vein — a version of herself that you always knew was hidden deep inside.   Ms. Yoo is the only one who comes forward and tries to put a stop to it. “Please, madam. Don’t do this,” she pleads softly, tears streaking down her own face.   Jaesun weeps. “Mommy!”   “Madam, please,” Ms. Yoo begs as if she’s trying to placate a child throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”   “You can’t do this to me, Namjoon!” Yijin’s hair is all in front of her face in a tangled mess. Her dress is wrinkled and she’s bare feet. Crazed — just like her husband was last night….except in different contexts.   Ms. Yoo starts to guide her away from the foyer to the front door, dragging the suitcase with her.    “Even if you divorce me, I could still get the house! Get our kids! Namjoon! Fuckin— Namjoon!”   Ms. Yoo pulls her out the door while crying and Yijin collapses at the steps as violent sobs wrack through her. The housekeeper sets the suitcase outside and looks down, hesitating.    Namjoon deadpans, “Close the door, Ms. Yoo.”   She shuts it. Fists bang against the surface for a moment before it stops, being replaced by the noise of wails. Instantly, Sohee runs upstairs, disappearing from sight. Namjoon turns away. Ms. Yoo sighs, taking Jaesun’s hand and comforting him.   The only other person is Yoongi. His gaze is darkened and he leans against the wall with arms crossed. You turn and his eyes pierce into yours. But wordlessly, you bow your head to him and go on about your day.   //   The house is finally quiet. Just the way you like it.   But it brews with a sort of intensity, a tension that doesn’t let you breathe easy. It was the calm before the final storm and your guard wasn’t going to be put down just yet.   You knock against Sohee’s bedroom door and after hearing no protests, you open it. She’s laying on her bed, covers over her head, having skipped school today which no one blamed her for. You clear your throat, speaking gently as if you were cooing a puppy, “You didn’t have any breakfast, so I brought you hot chocolate, Sohee. I’ll leave it on your nightstand.”   The mug is placed down and as you turn away, the sound of rustling slows your steps. She’s come up for air, hair in a disarray and covering her face, and she calls for you, “Y/N.”   “Hmm?”   “Are…..” She hesitates and you take the invitation to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl looks up at you after a moment. “Are you going to become my new mom?”   The pause is purposeful. It makes it seem as if you’re considering it. Makes it seem as if you’re staring at her because you’re wholeheartedly endeared by her. And that nothing else matters.   To top it off, your arms reach out and you hug her. Sohee is vulnerable, small against you and she eases in your secure embrace, allowing you to hold her. You even run your fingers through her hair, caressing her gently and she softly sighs, relishing in the comfort she never received from her own mother.   In a lot of ways, you share many similarities with her.   “I’m sorry, Sohee,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean you to see that. For all this to happen. I adore you and if you want me to be your new mom, I will, but it’ll be a decision made with you.”   She nods against your shoulder and the corner of your mouth pulls into a subtle smirk.   To think she would ask such a question merely hours after her biological mother was booted out the house is both astounding and unsurprising. It’s partly from her poor relationship with the woman and how she was charmed by you moments after your first encounter. A kind of love at first sight.    Not unlike how most men succumb to your allure — yet differing from lust. Instead, Sohee has developed a familial affection towards you.   But not everyone is as welcome as she is to the new change.   “Did you have anything to do with this?” Yoongi asks you. A surprise that he’s stepped out of his bedroom for some sunlight. Or perhaps to find answers.   You hum, continuing to place the stack of books back onto the shelf in the living room. “Maybe.”   His cat-like eyes are focused, pierced into you with a kind of intensity that would make anyone sweat. But you aren’t anyone. “What are your plans? Is it the inheritance? The status? Namjoon’s money—”   “Neither.”    Finished with your task, you move to the kitchen. But Yoongi blocks the doorway, leaning against it and never moving away. You stop, allowing your bodies to press together, testing as to who will give in first. Yet, he never once yields. Wavers. You’re close enough that he can feel your hot breath against his skin and as his jaw clamps, your pupils flicker down to his pouty mouth.   Against his own will, his eyes mimic yours. They follow to your own lips. And you smirk.   It’s a heated moment and then you brush away from the sharp-witted man.   //   For a short while, there’s a mirage that the game has several winners. But the instant gratification comes with consequences and there is only one ultimate victor.   “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t work in these conditions. With the madam gone, it’s just too hard for me. I…” Ms. Yoo shakes her head tearfully, a wrinkled hand placed over her chest where her heart is. “I’ve spent decades working in this house, master Kim, and I think it’s time I retire and spend some time with my grandchildren.”   Namjoon stares out the window, unable to work, unable to move.   His frustration overwhelms him.   “I won’t force you to stay, Ms. Yoo. Sohee and Jaesun will miss you, but you’ve done a lot for my family and I. We couldn’t thank you enough for your dedication and hard work over the years.”   He is calm and she bows her head before retreating.   You catch her in the corridor and she takes your hands, squeezing them and wishing you the best of luck with a sweet smile. After Ms. Yoo leaves, you wipe your hands against your collared dress.   You knock on the grandiose doors.    “Get out.”   Disregarding his command, you enter anyway. Namjoon is disgruntled, seated behind his desk in his leather chair, a finished glass of whiskey discarded on the side. His hands are clasped together, elbows propped on the surface and he leans his head on his fingers.   “What don’t you understand? Leave!”    But you approach him until you can press your hands on the edge of his desk and lean forward.   The once powerful man established in his wealth looks up at you, dark circles deepening, the wrinkle between his brows made permanent. He stares at you as if you’re a fearsome curse, a bothersome pest, a fiend. And you have to resist the delicious smirk that tickles your lips.    “You did this to me,” he mutters, simmering in animosity. “You destroyed me.”   You round the oak furniture and plop down onto his lap. Before he can shove you off, you grab his hair from the back of his head, letting the strands thread through your fingers, and you pull.   He groans, chin lifting up.   “You were the one who made the decision,” you tell him. “It’s you who became weak. You thought about me and even now, you still want me.” The edge of your mouth tilts and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat before you lean in, whispering in his ear, “You can’t stop thinking about me, can you, Namjoon?”   “You’re a vixen.”   “Oh, I’m much more than that.”   You end up sinking to your knees and taking him to the back of your throat. He cums there, the taste salty and consistency thick — a kind of bitterness that you’ve learnt to find savoury. And Namjoon cums again in your tight cunt when you’re bent over his desk and he’s pounding into you, fucking you hard enough to feel his anger and for your ass to bruise against his pelvis.   “N-Namjoon, it feels so good.”   “Shut the fuck up, slut.” He sweats at his hairline, holding your hips and jostling you around as he chases his own release. You look across the room to the family portrait above the mantle and smirk to yourself. “I-I’ll spank your cunt again.”   He couldn’t even scold you. He couldn’t blame you for ruining his marriage.   You have him wrapped around your finger.   //   The photograph captured a moment of Namjoon holding newborn Jaesun, Yijin smiling with her arm looped around Sohee who was only eleven at the time. They’re in front of the house with Ms. Yoo beside them wearing a grin. She remembers that day, the family barbecue outside, the laughter and joyous atmosphere. Yet now, Ms. Yoo only sighs to herself and packs the framed picture into her duffle bag.   “You’re still here?”    Your voice nearly startles the old woman to death. She jumps and turns around, finding you at the doorway. “Yes, I was just finishing up. I didn’t realize I had so many belongings. I guess this is what thirty years gives you.”   Ms. Yoo takes a gander around the room, what was her home, then to you. She never once notices Namjoon’s cum dripping down your thigh from your messy and puffed center that still delightfully aches.   “I’m going to miss this place.”   “Or you could always stay.” Not wanting to waste any more time, you take three strides and your mouth presses against hers. The older woman is shocked, eyes widened at your kiss, but you inhale.   She goes limp against you. Her soul taken right from her. And Ms. Yoo collapses to the ground.   You shudder at the taste, at how your guts coil inwards. It’s terribly bland.    Her soul isn’t half of what it takes to satisfy you.    Not like you’re surprised. As a succubus who’s meant to entice mortal men, male souls are the desirable ones.   You wait for Taehyung to come pick up the corpse, but he never shows up and you curse him. He always finds a way to show his face and steal the good souls away from you, satisfying his own appetite and leaving the scraps left for you. But when it comes to souls that are bland to you and therefore bland to him, suddenly he has no business manifesting himself.   You kick Ms. Yoo’s lifeless body and having no other options, you roll her heavy body with the rectangular carpet. You start sweating as you heave her up. But with enough effort, you manage to stuff her in the closet and shut the doors.   Someone will deal with that later.   //   It’s amusing. Namjoon does everything within his power to act like nothing’s changed. That nothing’s happened and he isn’t missing his wife or housekeeper in his home. He grabs onto any semblance of normalcy, perhaps to cope with the changes of the past twenty four hours.   He calls for dinner to be set at the usual time and you’re thankful Ms. Yoo made sure the fridge was stocked up before she was to leave. All you do is slap the container food into bowls and heat them in the microwave before setting the table as you usually do.   The entire family gathers around the table — Sohee, Jaesun, Namjoon and even Yoongi.   “Y/N will be joining us for dinner,” Namjoon suddenly announces as you set down the last bowl. Your brow raises and Yoongi’s eyes round but no one questions it.    Not even Jaesun who often throws tantrums. The kid merely pouts. Never once lifting his spoon of rice into his mouth, putting on a defiant act, but you don’t care. If the brat wants to starve, he can starve.   You sit down beside Namjoon, across from Yoongi and diagonal to Sohee.   It’s tense at the table, the silence suffocating those around it. But you settle in comfortably and even pass some side dishes directly into Sohee’s bowl that you know she likes. Her eyes flicker up to you and a tiny smile tugs on her face. “Thank you.”   Namjoon clears his throat and looks to his brother. “You were working on editing a science textbook, right?”   “Biology,” Yoongi answers shortly. “For grade eight students.”   “And how is that coming along?”   They continue their conversation, making some small talk and you chew in your cheek while your foot lifts underneath the table. Your leg stretches and it grazes along the leg of the man across from you.    Yoongi immediately freezes. His brown eyes pool close to black and he glares. But you don’t let up, stroking the inside of his leg as you eat and look away from him. Yoongi pushes away. You scoot yourself forward. He tries not to draw attention to himself. Asked another question, he gives half a mind to responding.    Your toes slowly travel up to his thighs and then they tickle and twitch against his crotch.   Yoongi’s breath staccatos.    No one knows that you’re playing footsies with Yoongi underneath the table. That you can feel the way he hardens against his sweatpants.    “What game do you think you’re playing?!” he harshly whispers after dinner when the two of you are away from the others. Yoongi corners you, his good looks sadly marred by his twisted expression.   You blink, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”   But the little act doesn’t faze him. You knew it wouldn’t work the second you met the man.   “I know you have something to do with Yijin leaving.”   “I didn’t do anything, Yoongi.” You grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until his body is pressed against yours and you grin, breath skimming along his neck. “The dominoes were already in place long before I came here. You know that too. I just needed to give it a little push,” you exhale the word and he can’t stop himself from swallowing hard. From staring at you.   He eventually musters enough self-control to push you away and leave.   You turn the corner, the darkness enveloping the corridor and bringing a sort of eeriness. But it might just be from Taehyung who you find leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking. “Aren’t you having a little too much fun, peach?”   “This is the best part.” You loll your head to one side. “Sometimes playing with your food before you eat it makes it much more appetizing.”   He laughs, chuckling from his chest and the sound tinkles. “I taught you well.”   Taehyung pushes himself off the surface and as he passes by you, he taps your butt.    He disappears seconds later, leaving you on your lonesome to keep playing.   //   Everything is falling into place.   It’s like you’re playing chess without an opponent, simply arranging your pawns as you’d like on the board. But because of how effortless and simple it is, it’s easy to get bored.   One day you’re waking up to a blaring alarm clock and slaving after the whims of humans as their servant and the next, you wake beside Namjoon in the master bedroom, having taken the madam’s place. You slept on her sheets, on her pillow, beside her husband.    There’s nothing fun about it anymore once you’ve won.   You roll over to straddle Namjoon’s hips, placing his morning wood right under your center. He’s shaken awake by the movement and groans, rough hands instinctively coming to grab your ass.    “W-What time is it?” his voice is still thick with sleep and you smile devilishly, rubbing your clit through your silk slip that barely covers your nipples. Your pink cunt is still swollen from last night’s endeavours, but you think one last one ought to be enough.    You won’t miss his cock after this.   “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you, Namjoon?” you whisper and before he can respond, your hands reach out, wrapping around his neck.   He’s completely at your mercy.   The man slowly blinks awake, coming to consciousness and a staggering exhale leaves his mouth as you position the bulborous head of his shaft to your folds. He mumbles something about how insatiable you are and lightly chuckles. But Namjoon should consider himself lucky. It’s not often you let the same human fuck you three times.   He pounds into you, hips lifting off the mattress. The stretch of your pussy is rather pleasing, but with the repetitiveness, your mind wanders and your hands around his neck tighten. You cut off Namjoon’s airway and his eyes slam shut with a loud groan. You can practically feel his cock twitch inside of you.   Unfortunately, the man loses it all too soon. It’s a bit amateurish for someone as experienced and punishing as he is, but you don’t blame him. Well...only a little as you lean down and capture your mouth with Namjoon’s before inhaling sharply.   Out of the three times you spread your legs for him and the numerous times you let his cum leak out of your pussy and drip down your thighs, he only made you cum once.   It’s kind of sad. Selfish.   Once you’re done with him, he falls back.    You hum to yourself as you climb off the man’s used dick and move to the vanity across the luxurious bedroom. You freshen up and pin up your hair, allowing a few strands to frame your face. After you’re satisfied, you grab Yijin’s shawl to cover your top half and you stride down the hall to Yoongi’s door.   He’s at his desk as usual, red pen in hand, crouched over a stack of papers.   But the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the bright sunlight through his modest room.   “Mornin’.”   He turns around, brow raised, eyeing how you’re leaning against the door frame, casually greeting him in spite of being dressed in a measly scrap of fabric. “What are you doing?”   You quirk your head. “Something we should’ve done a long time ago.”   “And what is that?”   “Hmmm, I think you know, Yoongi.” You flick a piece of dirt from underneath your fingernail. “Let’s not drag this on for any longer than we have to.”   You stay ambiguous and he maintains an impassive expression. But his stoicness has no effect to deter you when you smile and approach him slowly. “You know, I was once like you. Complacent. Quiet. A little like Sohee too, maybe even more naive than she is right now.”   “Once?”   “A long time ago,” you hum. “I was going to get married to a bad, bad man until I became liberated.”   You come close enough to grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. His head tilts upwards when you tug, powerless to your enchantment. “It’s okay to give in, Yoongi,” you whisper against his skin. “It’s okay to be selfish and indulgent. You’ve done so well up to now.”   “What makes you think I’ll sleep with my brother’s mistress?” he asks in a harsher tone. “The whore that ruined his entire family.”   You laugh. “That’s not very nice.”   “But isn’t it the truth?”   “It is. But I’m supposed to be irresistible to men. Your restraint is impressive, Yoongi, but it’s only natural that you give into your primitive needs or at least be honest with yourself. You dream about me, don’t you?” The ongoing silence makes your grin widen and your eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight. “You’ve fantasized about me a lot. You want me.”   You lower yourself, hooded eyes connected with his. Your hair is messy, yet not in a disoriented way from sleeping. Yoongi smell it on you too — the sweat and musty scent. “You fucked my brother.”   “And I can fuck you too.”   You surge forward, capturing his mouth with your own.    It’s different. Languid with the soft caresses of tongue, his lips not chapped but puffy. The kiss is slow and lazy. Not eager like Jungkook but not as rough as Namjoon. Yoongi sighs, savouring and truly enjoying it, and it’s something you lean into.   You match his speed and rhythm and once you pull away, his eyes are hazy.   Yoongi pants, swallowing hard. “Who...are you?”   “Secret,” you sing-song and pull him towards you. The two of you nearly fall to the floor, though his bed is close enough in his small room that you collide against the mattress. The man hovers over you and you hold his arms in a vice grip. Cocking your head to the side, you giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?”   “You’re a heathen.”   “Not quite, but close enough.” You grin and kiss him again. It feels good to.   Not long after that, you’re beneath him and he’s bare, quiet without a single moan. His cock draws deep into you leisurely, languid rolls that’s not necessarily chasing for an end but relishing in the pleasure.   “I was never going to fuck you,” Yoongi murmurs. “Even if I wanted to.”   You pout. “Why not?”   “Because I have dignity and respect for myself.”   You scoff. “Guess you lost all that.”   “No. I still do.” His voice is husky around the edges. “But if I give you what you want, maybe I’ll understand your intentions better.”   The corner of your mouth curls and your hips lift to meet Yoongi’s. You squeeze around him just to tease. “And what do you think my intentions are?”   “I-I still don’t know yet.” He sweats, hips sped up and then keeps a constant rhythm. “Why do you do the things that you do? Why did you try to tear this house apart? Gain Sohee’s favour.” Yoongi’s brown eyes pierce into you. He’s a perceptive man. “You don’t love Namjoon. I don’t think you loved Jungkook either.”   “Jungkook?”   “He would’ve never left like that out of his own free will.”   “You’re smart,” you coo affectionately and run your hands through his fluffy hair. It’s such a shame he’s just a mortal. “I promise you’ll know by the end of this, Yoongi.”   Another minute passes and Yoongi pulls out. You watch as he pumps himself thrice and finishes on your stomach with a quiet grunt, cum painting all over your flesh. You’re about to grab his shoulder to kiss him, but he parts your thighs and lowers himself. His mouth attaches to your cunt, forcing his wet tongue inside your used hole and he eats you out, licking at the juices that leak out of you.   But he remains meticulous and careful, drawing unrestrained moans from your lungs.   “S-So good…”   Yoongi works you up until you feel hot all over your body and your hands have sunk into his head of hair, threading through the strands. As if that wasn’t enough, he sucks on your clit and inserts his index into your walls. He sinks deep and curls the finger against the perfect spot.   Your back arches and you cum all over his tongue.   He lets you ride it out against the stiff muscle and his plush lips before he’s lifting himself up, revealing all of your slick that’s coated his mouth and chin.    “Thank you,” you pant, chest heaving. You gaze at Yoongi with heavy lids and you sit up. “I’ll give you the answer to your questions. Who I am. Why I’m here.” You cradle his cheeks in your palms and you lean forward.   Yoongi’s eyes droop and he kisses you back, softly and deeply. You keep it slow too, savouring the taste of yourself on his palette and then, when the moment is right, you inhale.   His lids open slightly, feeling himself weaken. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion, but as your kiss continues, his surroundings blurs more. He groans at the back of his throat, wanting to pull away, but without having the strength to.   The world around him darkens. His consciousness lasts three seconds afterwards. Enough to realize you’re a monster.   Yoongi’s body falls back onto the mattress.   His soul has been consumed by you and as tasty as it was, you’re a bit regretful. You pull the plush blanket up to give him some modesty and you ruffle your fingers through his bangs. “Truthfully, I liked you the best in this house.”   The sadness lasts another second before you’re humming and climbing off the bed.   The job is finally done and you roll your shoulders, walking out the room. As you do so, your exterior finally sheds of your human disguise into your true form. While your face remains the same, your lips redden and your hair becomes luscious and longer, draping your backside. The white, silk slip morphs to a dress in the blinding shade of crimson. It hugs your body, from the dip of your waist to the swell of your breasts. And at the crown of your head, two small horns manifest.   Downstairs, Taehyung is standing on the porch. He turns as you join his side and smirks. “About time you finished, peach.”   He’s been watching Jaesun. The five year old is running around the backyard underneath the sun and flinging around the toys his wealthy parents got for him. He’s completely oblivious to the situation and unquestioning to Taehyung’s presence.   Taehyung is the tamer of all brats after all.   “Didn’t you say I could take my time to have fun?”   “I think you’ve been having too much fun.”   The corner of your reddened lips pull. “I don’t think so.”   “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself though.” He lolls his head over and grabs a hold of your chin. Taehyung leans himself down to your height and comes forward for an invasive kiss.   Without warning, he licks into your mouth and you moan helplessly, completely at his mercy. Taehyung’s tongue is sticky as he tastes you, calm yet impatient. It’s a pleasant kind of intimacy as he steals your breath. But when he starts to inhale deep, you bite him.   Taehyung pulls back with a grin, the bottom of his lip split slightly.   You pout. “You should at least give me some. I worked hard for those souls, you know.”   He gives you a look. “Did you really?”   “More work than usual,” you bite back.   A black cat mewls at Jaesun. The kid swivels his head over, fascination growing as the feline hops from the fence to the grass gracefully as if inviting him to play. The cat has a short but luscious coat and its tail curls, green eyes wide. Jaesun instantly drops the ball he’s holding.   His greedy hands extend and he follows the cat behind some bushes.   There’s a flash of bright light and Jimin stretches himself out from his feline form. He cracks his bones and leans over, interrupting your conversation. “Thanks for the kid, Tae.”   Taehyung waves. “No problem, Chim.”

Sohee wakes up to a silent house.   There’s a strangeness in the air, a certain uneasy feeling in her body, but she dresses herself and continues her morning. It’s when the peace is ongoing that she searches for people, for her father first.   She screams when she discovers Namjoon on the bed lifeless. No matter how much she shakes him or calls out his name, he never moves or twitches. He doesn’t breathe.   The girl cries and runs to her uncle for help. But he, too, isn’t sleeping and isn’t resting like he appears to be. The man’s skin has gone cold, eyes shut tight, his lips pale.   She cups a hand over her mouth, silencing a sob in the eerie house and she stumbles down the steps. There’s only one person left. One person to help her. And she sees you through the back door on the porch. Standing next to a tall man.   Sohee’s confusion stops her tears while hiccups continue to wrack through her body.   “W-Who are you?”   The two of you turn at the sound of her voice.   Taehyung grins. “Oh. Nice to see you again, little girl. Remember me?”   Sohee’s eyes are swollen, cheeks stained with saltwater. Her body trembles as she grips the door frame. You coo at her, stepping forward with your arms open but she flinches. “W-What did you do to them?”   You sigh, arms dropping to your side, yet your voice remains tender. “They got what they deserved, Sohee.”   “W-W...h..at?”   “They succumbed to their primitive desires and suffered the punishment for it.”   “This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” Taehyung’s brow cocks and he smiles at her. “You were the one who summoned me here in the first place.”   Confusion is marked across her visage — brows furrowed, mouth lopsided.    But it was Sohee that called out to you and Taehyung. She was the one who began your assignment. She was the one who invited the pair of you into her home. Practically opened the door and ushered you in desperately.   “All those nights of prayer, did you really think God would grant you such evil wishes to get rid of your family? You were praying to the devil, little girl.”   Incubi and succubi like you and Taehyung need invitations to enter an abode. Yet Sohee handed the both of you that on a silver platter. Taehyung might’ve assigned the task to you, but it was a win-win. Not only could you grant her wish, but you could reap all the benefits by stealing the souls of her family members and indulging in their lust.   “All those nights of wishing your mother would get hit by a car. That your brother would cease to exist. That your father would fail his business….”   It was a victory from the start.   You give Sohee a moment since it looks like she needs it. It’s understandably shocking. You were once in her position after all and just as surprised. But the realization seems to sink into her with the way her eyes widen. “I-I didn’t know this is what would happen!”   “You wanted an escape from your life,” you say to her in excitement. There was one more benefit to this ordeal too — just as Taehyung has you, Sohee will become yours. “This is it, sweetheart.”   If you didn’t know you would get such an endearing subordinate from all this, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of it all. But ‘subordinate’ and ‘underling’ are such unpleasant words Taehyung uses. Sohee’s more like a little puppy for you to love, mentor and show around.   “Come with us.” You extend your hand, palm open to the sky. “We came all the way here for you.”   Sohee looks at both you and him, brows furrowed, hesitation evident. “What will happen to me?”   “You want to be like me, don’t you?” You smile at her along with Taehyung who remains patient. “I’ll take care of you and so will Taehyung. What else does this place have to offer you?”   This is the true game of temptation.   No one is ever forced into making a deal with the devil. It’s a choice. And one she takes.   The girl lifts her arm, taking your hand. A bigger smile pulls on your features.    And just like that, the three of you vanish together.

Drug of Choice

I can’t even summarize this, all I’m saying is, I can’t wait to go to church with my grandma! 🤡🤡🤡

Requested: Yes, by myself, I’ve been working on a request for two days, this is what I wrote during a break.

Prompts: None

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Smut, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Oral, Pillow Play, Degradation, Just overall FILTH

Roughly Edited

“Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it.” - Nicholas Sparks, A Walk to Remember

Spencer was hesitant at first to be so assertive with you. But after a rough night, and little bit of reassurance on your part, it was easier for him to partake in his role. You were at Spencer’s every beck and call, like putty in his hands. You were his good girl. Always asking for things you wanted. He would set rules, no touching yourself without permission, no cumming without permission, the man got off on permission.

But some days he would brush you off, and although it hurt your feelings, you let it go, because you knew how hard his job was for him. Yes, you were Spencer’s good girl, but what were you supposed to do when he was refusing to give you what you want?

You closed the door to your shared bedroom, praying it wouldn’t creak and give you away. If you did this quickly you could pretend like it never happened. You crossed the room with light steps, crouching down to pull out a box. A box filled with all sorts of toys, some you hadn’t even seen, Spencer didn’t let you touch the box. In fact, you weren’t supposed to know where the box was, but, you were curious one day, and Spencer wasn’t good at hiding.

You pulled out a purple vibrating dildo, it wasn’t the greatest, but it was the quietest, and right now all you wanted was a quick release, so you could go back to being a good girl.

Situating yourself on the bed, you laid the dildo beside you. Bringing your hands up to your chest you palmed your breasts through Spencer’s old dress shirt, which you often wore while lounging around the house. You popped open a few buttons, letting your hands explore your warm skin before unbuttoning the rest. You left the shirt on, basking in Spencer’s scent.

You let your hands travel down your stomach, visions of Spencer's head between your legs filling your mind. You could practically feel his tongue swirling around your clit, with his perfect pink lips, his eyes bearing into yours with an animalistic lust. The boy was a slut for eye contact.

Your hand slipped under the band of your underwear, “guess I don’t need lube.” You giggled to yourself. You slid your hand up your slit, fingers beginning to circle your clit. “Oh, fuck Spencer” you threw your head back with a whimper.

You quickened your pace, your eyes fluttering close in pleasure. In your mind, Spencer pulled his head away, arousal covering his chin. A lewd moan escaped your mouth, “shit, that feels so good”

“I bet it does” A voice responded.

Your hand flew to your chest, eyes snapping open in shock. “Jesus, Spence don’t scare me like that!” You cried.

Spencer chuckled bitterly, disregarding your comment, “wow, and here I was, coming to reward you for waiting so patiently for me to finish working. Yet, here you are touching yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, “well you wouldn’t touch me.” You sat up slightly, pushing yourself off the bed, completely forgetting about the dildo your body was concealing.

“Hm where’d you find that, little one?” Spencer questioned, moving across the room to grab the dildo.

Well, shit. You stepped in front of him quickly, your body blocking him from the bed. “Where’d I find what?”

“You really are acting like a brat today.” Spencer chided, his hand moving up to lightly grasp your jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” You smiled coyly, you knew exactly what he was talking about. But you wanted to aggravate him, practically force him to fuck you into the mattress.

Spencer leaned in, his lips resting right next to your ear, his hair tickling the side of your face. His hand ran from your jaw to your breast, tugging harshly on one of your nipples.

Your head tilted back with a moan, your hand shooting up to hold onto his wrist for stability. “Fuck” you groaned at the slight pain, arching your back into his touch.

Spencer’s hot ragged breath hit your ear, “If you want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one” he growled.

With that he leaned down, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, one of his arms wrapping around the back of your thighs. In a singular swift motion you were lifted onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

“Spencer!” You shrieked, “put me fucking down!”

He ignored your cries, crossing the bedroom swiftly pushing the door open with his free hand.

“Spencer you fucking dick! Put me down!” You squirmed on his shoulder, it wasn’t the brightest idea, because he very well could have dropped you. But you were pissed, as intelligent as he was, the man didn’t have incredible social skills.

He ignored you once again, walking down the hall, entering the living room.

“Spencer are you fucking deaf?” you cried, god dammit he was infuriating, one second he doesn’t want to fuck, and the next second he does.

Spencer leaned forward, setting you down in front of a smooth leather recliner, it was his favorite chair to read in.

“Spencer what the hell? One second you’re telling me you’re not in the mood and the next-” your speech was cut off by one of Spencer’s hands shoving something in your mouth.

Fabric. Lace. He did not. Your fucking panties.

His hands met the sides of your, well, his shirt, pushing it off your shoulders and down your arms.

“There you go, that’ll shut you up. Only good girls get to speak.” He said, his hands met the sides of your, well, his shirt, pushing it off your shoulders and down your arms, letting it fall to the floor. “On your knees, baby.”

Spencer turned, sitting down in his chair, “now you’re going to sit there, and show me you can be a good girl, while I read.”

Despite how much you needed him, you could do that, Spencer read 20,000 words per minute, this wouldn’t take long, then he would fuck you. You sunk to your knees in front of him, placing your hands delicately in your lap.

“That's right, baby, listen to daddy.” Spencer said, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, as much as you loved acting like a brat, you couldn’t deny the excitement that came with his appraisals. He pulled his hand back, reaching to pick up a book from the table, you could care less which book it was, more focused on his visible erection straining against his pants.

As if he read your mind, he placed the book back down on the table, his hands beginning to unbuckle his belt.

You leaned forward in anticipation, fuck, this might be harder than you thought.

Spencer lifted his hips slightly, pulling out his cock, he let out a breathy chuckle, his hand lazily giving it a few strokes. “You didn’t think I was going to make it easy, sweetheart?”

Oh, that stupid bastard. You rubbed your thighs together, seeking any kind of relief.

Spencer shot you a look, his hands moving to pick up the book once again.

You bit your lip, the soaked fabric of your panties rubbing against your tongue. God, you wanted him so bad, you needed him. You were the moth and he was the flame, your body craved him.

Spencer was reading now, one hand holding the book, the other stroking his cock, occasionally reaching up to turn the page of the book.

Spencer paused, lowering the book to make eye contact with you, “don't look so desperate, Y/N.” He teased, a smirk practically etched on his face, as he lifted his book to read once more.

A muffled moan escaped your lips, your body hunching forward in desperation, despite his teasing. This man had you wrapped around his finger, no matter what he did, no matter who he did, there was no way on planet earth that you could ever leave him.

A groan left Spencer’s mouth as his pace picked up, God, all he wanted to do was fucking ruin you, you were like his drug. I mean, who needs dilaudid when they have you?

You bit your lip with a whimper, a metallic taste filling your mouth. You couldn’t help it, you had to touch him. You scooted forward, placing your hands on his knees, a pleading look in your eyes.

Spencer’s hand released his cock, shutting the book rather harshly. He placed the book on the table, his body leaning forward, a hand reaching out to grab the hair at the back of your head. Your head was jerked up, his lust filled eyes bearing into yours.

“What happened to being a good girl?” Spencer spat harshly.

You blinked, you couldn’t exactly answer with your underwear stuffed in your mouth.

“Oh, that’s right, your mouth is a little busy.” His hand released his vice grip on your hair, he placed it under your jaw, his thumb running over your lip. “Open.”

You let your jaw go slack, your lips parting slightly. Spencer’s hand pulled the underwear from your mouth, “look at that” he chuckled.

Spencer leaned back into the chair, placing his arms comfortably on the armrests. He stared at you for a moment, a questioning look in his eye. “I’m waiting.”

Fuck. Yes. You surged forward, your small hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few pumps. Spencer’s hand ran down the back of your head, gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

You let your hand rest on his upper thigh, moving your face forward to run your tongue up his cock. Spencer’s head fell back with a groan, “that’s a good girl” he smiled.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking lightly. Spencer’s grip on your hair tightened, “fuck.”

He pushed your head down slightly, and you let your jaw go slack, allowing him to fuck your mouth. His pace was slow, letting you adjust, pushing your head down further with each thrust. Even in his lust filled state he was still a gentleman.

You gagged lightly as his cock hit the back of your throat, Spencer’s groans filling your ears. “Fuck, Y/N, just like that, suck daddy’s cock.”

You pulled back, hollowing your cheeks, running your tongue up the vein on the underside of his cock. “Yes, baby, just like that.” Spencer moaned, bringing a hand up to push his hair out of his face.

He sped up the pace, moving your head quicker. You breathed deeply through your nose, eyes bearing into Spencer’s. “Fuck, Y/N, oh God.” He stilled in your mouth, his cock twitched, and his head fell back groaning out curses laced with your name.

A warm salty liquid filled your mouth, and you swallowed around him quickly, holding your breath shortly to avoid the taste. “Fuck” Spencer laughed, pulling your head off his cock.

“Open” he commanded. You complied, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. “Good girl.” He praised, pushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You want to ride my cock?” he questioned, his hand stroking your face, wiping some of the spit off your chin.

Your jaw fell open, your heart pounding in your chest. You nodded your head vigorously, eyes blown wide with lust.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Spencer commanded.

“Yes, yes sir.” you breathed out.

“Too bad.” Spencer said, a smirk on his lips, his hands moved, tucking his cock back in his pants.

“W-what? No!” You cried out, completely flabbergasted.

Spencer scoffed, grabbing your hair in a fist once again. He jerked your head up, standing up, pulling you with him. You whimpered at the sting on the back of your head, your teeth digging into your lip again. “You really can’t stop being a little bitch, can you?” He growled in your ear, “bedroom.”

You began the walk to the bedroom, fuck, all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He was hot on your trail, one of his large hands gripping your hip harshly. You opened the door to the room, stopping in front of the bed. Spencer stopped behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you into him. His hard cock pressed into your ass, drawing a low moan from you.

“Please, Spencer.” You groaned out, pushing your ass back against him.

His other hand shot up to your face, gripping your jaw firmly, squishing your face slightly, “that’s not my name, sweetheart.” He muttered, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, body sweating with arousal. You were delirious, completely drunk on lust. “Please, daddy” you corrected, your speech slightly distorted due to Spencer’s grip.

Spencer’s laugh cut through the air, he let go of your face, trailing his hand down to palm one of your breasts. “Fuck” you whimpered, letting your eyes flutter closed.

“Get on the bed, and grab a pillow” Spencer commanded. Your eyes shot open in shock, your head turning to look up at Spencer with an incredulous look. He simply smiled at you, an expectant look on his face.

You clambered onto the bed, grabbing the pillow from your side of the bed. You had an idea of what Spencer wanted, but, you had never done this together before.

“Straddle it” his body turned around, moving to pull the chair from his desk. He faced the chair towards the bed, making sure he had a good view.

You had masturbated in front of him before, but never like this. Nerves shot through your body, this was new, it was different. Hesitantly, you straddled the pillow, relishing in the way it rubbed your clit.

“You look so good, such a good girl” Spencer praised. You looked up, Spencer’s hand was wrapped around his hard cock, his tongue darting out to wet his plump pink lips. “Grind against it, show me how desperate you are.”

Spencer was always amazing at dirty talk, you swear he could make you cum by just talking alone. His words boosted your confidence, you rocked your hips forward, a moan escaping your mouth at the foreign feeling. “Fuck, daddy.”

Spencer chuckled through a groan, “ you need my cock, don’t you? You need me to fuck you like a little slut?”

Your head fell back, “yes, Daddy, please fuck me” you cried. Your hips rocked faster against the pillow, desperately grinding your clit against the fabric. Tears welled in your eyes, the need for release becoming too much. “Please? I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” You breathed out, voice cracking slightly.

“God, ugh, fuck, Y/N” Spencer moaned, his hand vigouresly pumping his sensitive cock. “Stop, stop, come ride me, baby.”

You swear to God you had never moved so fast in your life. You straddled his waist, one of his hands guided his cock into your folds. The other held your chin, dark eyes gazing into yours, this time not filled with just lust, but love. Spencer took your lips in his, kissing you with an intoxicating passion. He pulled away a boyish grin on his face, “I love you.”

He always did this anytime he was particularly rough, he had to make sure you knew he loved you, even when he was degrading the shit out of you. He could never deny himself his love for you.

His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, giving a sharp tug, pulling you down onto his cock.

You cried out, holding onto Spencer’s shoulders for dear life. Hot tears of pleasure poured down your face. “Fuck, daddy. Fuck me” you sobbed, letting your nails dig into Spencer’s shoulders.

Spencer groaned at the pain, “God, move, Y/N” he cried, moving his hands from your thighs to your hips, guiding you along his cock. He set a brutal pace, letting out animalistic groans in your ear.

Your moans were unintelligible cries of Spencer's name and multiple curses, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as you felt the tension building in your stomach. “Can I cum? Please, daddy, please.” You begged, raking one of your hands down Spencer’s chest, stopping at the place you were connected, rubbing your sore clit.

One of his hands shot up to your neck, applying pressure lightly around the sides, “look at daddy, baby. Look at daddy while you cum on his cock.”

You opened your eyes, despite your body's resistance, tears running down your face. You cried out loudly, your moans bordering screams. The tension in your stomach snapped like a rubber band, you fell forward, burying your head in his neck. Choruses of ”thank you’s” left your mouth, your hips rocking desperately against him to milk your orgasm.

Spencer moved his hands back to your hips, pulling you down as he thrusted up into your pussy. “Yes, Y/N, good girl.” He held you down tightly on his cock, relishing in the way you squirmed. A broken moan left his mouth as he came, his warm cum filling your cunt. Spencer grabbed your hand, roughly moving it down to your stomach, “feel that baby? That’s daddy’s cock filling your cunt.” He groaned, letting out a shaky breath as you both worked through your highs.

Your tears fell onto Spencer’s warm skin, the pleasure overwhelming your body, you felt his warm large hand rubbing soothing circles over your back as you cried lightly.

“Shh, baby, you did so good. I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into your ear, his other hand smoothing down your tousled hair. The hand on your back ran down to your hip, rubbing a few circles with his thumb before settling. “I need to pull out, sweetheart, can you sit up a little, baby?”

You complied, finally catching your ragged breath, shifting upwards slightly, letting out a whimper. He slipped his cock back into his pants, zipping and buckling them quickly. “Can you stand, love?”

Nodding slightly, you pushed off his shoulder, slipping off his lap, his hand on your hip steadying you. He stood up after you, quickly picking you up bridal style. He carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as possible on the sheets. They felt cool against your hot body, and your eyes fluttered shut, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Spencer kissed your head lightly, bringing a small smile to your face. “I’ll be right back, baby.”

Your head felt fuzzy, there was no real way to describe it, it was truly, like a high, and Spencer was your drug of choice. By the time he came back, you were half asleep, only pulled out of your slumber when you felt a wet rag running up your thighs, cleaning you off from your previous activities. You smiled once again, you loved having sex with Spencer, you loved how quick he could switch from calling you a slut to carresing you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. He treated you like an absolute queen, and you promised yourself every day you would never take him for granted.

When he was done he placed the rag on the bedside table, climbing into bed with you. “Come here” he said, opening his arms for you. You were both drained, but you would never pass up cuddling with Spencer.

You sat up, pushing off your sore limbs, onto all fours. You climbed over Spencer, now noticing he had changed into a comfy pair of pajama pants, ditching the shirt. You laid against his warm chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

“Thank you” he muttered.

Your brows furrowed in question, “for what?” Your voice sounded raw, and broken, probably from screaming while Spencer fucked your brains out.

“For being you” he stated, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I needed that.”

“Hmm, you get too caught up in your work sometimes.” You sighed, burying your head deeper into his flesh, running your hands soothingly up his chest.

He chuckled lightly, a hand running through your hair. “I love you so much” you muttered into his chest.

He smiled giddily, “Did you know, falling in love is as addicting as nicotine, or even cocaine? Falling in love with someone releases a chemical called dopamine, as does cocaine or nicotine. It gives you a boost of happiness, and testosterone, which is essential for the initial attraction stage of a relationship. In other words, you can literally become addicted to the feeling of falling in love.”

By the time Spencer was done with his tangent, you were fast asleep, snoring lightly on his chest. He smiled, gazing down at you, “ I love you too.”

Chapter 2.13 - The Give and Take

Barry and Dennis didn’t cuddle much. Perhaps it was because Dennis was a bit cold in bed, and guarded his sleep close. You couldn’t do a clean surgery if you were tired in the morning, after all. But this morning, Dennis appreciated it. The little spoon wasn’t his usual position, since he was bigger than Barry was, but this morning, he felt enveloped in his husband’s arms somehow. Safe. He snuggled back a bit, thankful it was Saturday and he didn’t really have to get up for anything quite yet, other than a jog--maybe.

The arms around him squeezed him tighter, and maybe it was how strong they were. Maybe it was the rasp of the stubble against his neck, the tongue that flicked his ear. Maybe it was the cock that slid up between his cheeks when the grip around him tightened. Maybe it was the smell, the sounds, the rougher sheets than his usual. Maybe all of it. Dennis realized that he wasn’t in his bed, and it wasn’t Barry that was holding him and pulling him closer, and in a panic, he wormed himself out of the stranger’s hold and nearly fell on the floor beside the bed.

“Hey now, calm down cub, it’s all fine,” the man said behind him. It took Dennis a moment to recognize him--the bouncer from The Hideaway. He vaguely remembered going home with him the night before, after...after everything else that had happened, a massive crush of memory, seemingly too much for a single night. He felt nauseous, and disgusted with himself. He stumbled through the bouncer’s apartment (he didn’t even know his name!) found the toilet, and fell in front of the dirty bowl, almost willing himself to vomit. He wanted to vomit, he wanted something to present to the world that would demonstrate his disgust, but nothing came up, just tears, and then the bouncer was beside him, on the tile, pulling him close, and Dennis sobbed into his chest.

“Fuck, first time, eh? Don’t worry boy, I got you, just let it all out.”

Dennis sobbed, unable to reconcile what had happened to him the night before, what he’d done, with the person he’d thought he was. He didn’t go to leather bars like that. He didn’t wear leather, he didn’t have sex with random men, he didn’t...he didn’t! But he had. He had, and he’d liked it. The disgust was there, but it was one level removed. He wasn’t disgusted at what he had done in the club--he was disgusted that he had enjoyed it all so very, very much. He could smell the sweat and the musk rolling off the bouncer’s chest, and Dennis felt his cock throb, and that was enough to push him away and wipe his eyes. He had to get himself together.

“The first few hangovers are a real bitch. I know, I remember mine. You’ll get used to them, don’t worry.”

“I’ve never had a hangover in my life. I didn’t even drink last night.”

“Not that kind of hangover. A Pigtown Hangover. We get lost in it all, and wake up back home, no idea how we got there. Or in someone else’s bed, still no idea. It happens. It just means you had a real good night.”

“I...you all raped me. I didn’t want to do any of that!”

The bouncer sighed. “Really? You didn’t want all the guys in the bar to line up behind you and pump a load into that hot hole of yours? That doesn’t turn you on?”

Dennis had to hide his cock as it got harder still, and the bouncer laughed. “Dicks don’t lie, bud, not around here.”

“But I didn’t--”

“You disregarded my very clear suggestions that this was not the place for you, and instead you snuck in, violating our rather clear dress code. What did you think was going to happen?” he said, then sighed, “I guess you didn’t know what was going to happen, did you? Well, part of you knew. I could smell how hungry you were at the door.”

Hunger. Dennis poked around a moment, but that hunger he’d felt for days now, it was gone. Not gone, not really, but sated. “I...I need to get home.”

“Sure thing man. You live close?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t have a car, or I’d drive you. Looks like you’ll have to join the march of shame.”

He helped Dennis up to his feet, who turned, saw himself in the mirror, and gasped. He looked different. Really different. Younger, for one thing. Shorter, hairier, a little chubbier. He gave his face a poke, then the rest of him, trying to map his ego onto the body he was seeing.

“I think that was Marshall, did that to you. You were trying to talk to his apprentice, weren’t you?”

Dennis focused, and could remember that smoke, the strange sensation. But it was Kyle who had done it, not Marshall--or the older fellow who had been with Kyle at least, if that’s who he was. “He...said I was going to be a cub with...a hungry hole, looking for a Daddy.”

“Well, you found one, and that hole sure was hungry last night,” the bouncer said, coming up behind him, running a hand down Dennis’s ass, running a finger around his ring. Dennis moaned at the sudden pleasure that welled up in him, and pushed back before getting a hold of himself. “Does the cub need one last fuck before he goes?”

“I can’t, I...my husband doesn’t know where I am, and...”

“No worries man, I get it.”

Dennis looked at himself, at what he was wearing. He still only had the jock, boots and harness on. No phone, no wallet. No keys. “I don’t...have any of my stuff, I must have lost it with my pants at the bar.”

“It’ll show up where you need it. Pigtown loves to take, but it’s not interested in any of that stuff. It gives you plenty too, if you’re brave enough to let it in.” He probed his finger against Dennis’s hole, working in a bit, feeling how eagerly it opened for him, and smiled. “Come on you cute cub, how about one more for the road?”

Dennis knew he should say no, knew he should push him away, knew he should hold onto what little bit of dignity he still had. Instead, he let the bouncer bend him over the counter, lube his cock up with some spit, and slide it deep in his hole, right where it belonged. Getting fucked had never felt like this before, it had never, not once in his life, felt good. But this was wave after wave of pleasure washing over him, and he found himself pushing back, begging for more, the smell of their sweat filling the bathroom and steaming the mirror in front of them before the bouncer finished inside him, reached around, and with just a couple of strokes brought Dennis to orgasm all over the front of the counter.

He kept his cock inside Dennis until it got soft, both of them panting together, and Dennis eventually muttered, “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Craig.”

“I’m Dennis.”

“Nice to meet you Dennis, I hope you don’t regret it.”

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Craig pulled free of him, helped Dennis out of his leather gear, and they showered together. He offered him breakfast, but Dennis really was starting to worry about Barry, and declined.

“Well, we should at least cover you up a bit. Otherwise, you won’t make it to your car before some other Daddy drags you down a dark alley and has their way with you.”

Somehow, Dennis didn’t doubt that Craig was telling the truth. He also found himself wondering if that might not be so bad after all. Craig gave him some jeans an old flame had left in a drawer that mostly fit--the legs were a bit long and the waist needed a belt, but it worked well enough. Then, he gave him the work shirt he’d had on at the bar the night before. It was soaked with sweat still, and smelled like heaven when he pulled it on.

“I need that back eventually--company property,” Craig said.

“What’s your address?”

“You can find me at the bar--you know where I work,” he said, giving Dennis a wink and a swat on the ass as he pushed him out the door and into the hallway of the apartment building where he lived. “You even have some leather gear now--so you can get in the front door, like a civilized cub.”

They had a bit of a laugh at that, and then Dennis was out and onto the sidewalk, along with a good number of other men in situations similar to his. He exchanged a few knowing nods along the way, and that helped too. That he wasn’t alone. Dennis made it back to his car in good time, and without losing his hole to any sexy Daddy along the way--though more than once he considered it. Just like Craig had said, his keys were resting on the hood of his car, his phone and wallet in the center console. How they had gotten there he didn’t know, but after everything else that had happened, he wasn’t surprised. He drove home, already trying to figure out what he was going to tell Barry to explain...any of this. The fear almost made him turn around, go back, and crawl back into bed with Craig--but he couldn’t do that. But the thought made his guts growl. He thought it was because he’d skipped breakfast for a moment, but he knew what it was now, that hunger. He’d sated it for the night, at least. But how long could he go without now that he’d feasted?

***

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underground | taehyung (m.)

| taehyung x female reader | fluff, smut, angst | art dealer!au detective!au |

word count: 24.3k

warnings: violence, mentions of blood, language, murder, dirty talk, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (STAY SAFE), spanking, choking, multiple orgasms, degradation, sir/daddy kink (Taehyung really loves it), throat fucking

synopsis: Being a top detective gives you priority over which case you want. Choosing the file Vante with hopes of it being short and sweet takes a drastic turn each time you think you’re a step ahead. 

author’s note: I’m sorry this is so long. I truly got carried away. I have been working at this piece for over a month. I really hope you all will take the time to read it. This oneshot was based on a movie and it follows basically the same plot and I use some of the same characters. Thank you and I hope you all enjoy!

peachiemin: please do not repost, translate, or modify any of my work.

The soft sound of music filled the environment. Waitresses walked around with flaming drinks balanced on their tray, men dressed sharply and women hanging off their arms. The club was dimly lit, blue lights hanging off the ceiling and a wall full of special drinks shined under the light. To him this was nothing new, meeting clients almost every night, selling pieces of arts that were worth nothing but earning millions; it was his way of life, the way he pulled in money.

Thrumming his fingers against the table a smirk plastered across his face, his client unknowing of the three-hundred dollar vase he has under the table that he would be selling for three-million. Quirking his eyebrow, the layout of his escape if things were to go south planned out: His hitman, Min Yoongi, sat behind him, his ears trained to notice any signs of distress or keywords that would signal him to attack. Behind him was the back exit, the way he had come in and to his left, two of his clients bodyguards stood guard and his two hitmen sat to the right and left of Taehyung glaring him down and in front of him, his client Kim Dongsoo sat, staring Taehyung down as if he would vanish into thin air.

“Show it to me.” The rude statement made Taehyung chuckle.

“Not even a hello?” He laughed, “Rude but come on.” He grinned at Dongsoo’s bodyguard, patting the table as if the man was a five-year-old needed step-by-step. A low growl emitted from the man causing Taehyung to smile even more devilish.

Gently placing a thick leather briefcase on the table, Taehyung slipped on white gloves, wiggling his eyebrows at Dongsoo. “What a beautiful vase you have chosen to buy from me.” He smiled, the soft sound of the box unlocking as Taehyung flipped the latches back. He gently wrapped his clothed fingers around the vase, lifting it as the hitman placed the carrier back on the ground.

“The Pinner Qianlong Vase,” Taehyung awed, gently setting the piece on the table, “made in 1740.”

“Surely this isn’t some fake that you had someone paint acrylic over?” Dongsoo raised an eyebrow, his eyes trained on Taehyung rather than the vase placed in front of him.

Resting his elbow on the table, Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “Now would I do that to you? Clearly, you made a magnificent purchase from me last time I recall; Pollice Verso if I’m not mistaken—“

“A piece that you sold to me which was reprinted!” His fist slammed against the table, Taehyung fell back into his chair, Yoongi’s hand twitching against the pistol that was settled on his hip.

“You’re mistaken,” Taehyung responded cooly.

“If I should trust you,” Dongsoo motioned at his men, “then here’s the money you’re asking for.” His hitman placed the wad of cash on the table, Taehyung’s mouth drooling at the sight.

“When you trust me,” Taehyung corrected, “You’ll leave this club with an original piece.”

There was a moment of silence. Taehyung’s hand slowly came to rest against his side, the colt cold against his warm skin. However, the silence was long gone before the sound of a knife piercing through the cash echoed through Taehyung’s ear and the scruff of the chairs against the floor.

Yoongi was quick to blow the first bullet, dodging the hitman who quickly fired back. Taehyung glanced up, Dongsoo’s eyes glaring at him and if they could, he would be dead. Jerking the gun off his side, Taehyung aimed the colt at the one hitman, his bullet slicing through the man’s heart, his body slumping to the floor. The sound of gunshots rang through the club, people screaming, running, and all of a sudden, the table he once occupied was on fire and the vase he was to sell shattered by the bullet that whizzed past.

“Oh fuck,” Taehyung hissed.

Dongsoo was long gone, his bodyguards taking him away to safety but Taehyung could care less. His fingers quickly wrapped around the knife working it back and forth, the metal not budging from the wad of money.

“We have to go, Taehyung,” Yoongi exclaimed, sending another bullet that finally pierced the last hitman’s head.

“Hold on,” He grunted, finally wedging the metal out of the money and shoving the paper into his pocket.

Yoongi shoved Taehyung in front of him before exiting out the back, the sound of sirens wailing from the other side. Opening the door to the Audi, Taehyung slumped into the seat, Yoongi revving the engine before leaving, the blue lights casting an eerie sight.

“Well,” Taehyung groaned, pulling the cash out his pocket, “At least I got the money.”

Yoongi scoffed, “And you about lost your head too.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Three-million, hyung. Let’s go eat shall we?”

Your head hung low as annoyance spread throughout your body. You wanted to push all these folders off the table, quit your job and move away so no one could find you but you couldn’t risk that; the sound of the waves hitting the beach filling your ears does seem peaceful. 

“Please,” You cried out, “Please let me do something else.” You groaned, throwing your hands down in frustration. “I’m tired of all these drug and murder cases, I want something new! Something that  requires me to think.” Your boss, Kim Seokjin, only raised an eyebrow at you. “Seriously Seokjin, I can go outside and bust four cases easily. Please, I’m begging you.” 

He only sighed, bringing his fingers up to rub at his temples. Luckily for you, you were one of his best detectives. You had been in the force for six years now and you have outdone people who had been there for ten or more years. He respected you and to your request, he motioned for you to follow him. Taking you to his office, Seokjin closed the door behind you, opening the filing cabinet that sat right beside the door. 

“I have files in here that have been opened for years and we haven’t closed them,” He grunted, tossing folders on his desk. 

After tossing the last file onto his desk, he made his way back to his chair, plopping down before lacing his fingers together, looking at you. You only looked at him once before rummaging through the folders. Some had opened twenty years ago and had never been solved and some just didn’t seem worthy enough to even waste the detective’s time. 

“Find a case yet?” Seokjin smirked, his eyes following your every movement. 

“No,” You mumbled, tossing another folder into the floor. 

As soon as you were about to say fuck it, your eyes fell upon a thick folder that had been held together by rubber bands. Furrowing your eyebrows, you grabbed the file and began undoing the bands. Opening the folder, the name Vante written across the top. 

“Vante,” You mumbled.

“Ah,” Seokjin exclaimed, “That is one filthy art dealer who will do anything to get his hands on some money.”

“He?”

“Mm,” Seokjin nodded, “Kim Taehyung. Buys fake artwork and sells it overpriced to make money off of inexperienced buyers or has them worked on to look like it came straight from the museum to sell to experienced buyers, art dealers like himself.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What’s his file doing in your case file?” 

“He’s killed many of men bu—“

“Chief!” You jerked your head, another detective, Jung Hoseok, stood in the doorway, his chest slowly panting, “There’s been a murder. The government has asked for us to take over.” 

Seokjin nodded his head, motioning for Hoseok to leave, “Want to take this case?”

“I told you I didn’t want to work on any murder cases,”

“At least go scope it out for me.”

“Fine,” You huffed, tucking the Vante file under your arm, “but I’m taking Jimin.”

“Maybe this will be your big break,” Jimin, your long time friend in the detective field.

You scoffed, shutting the door behind you. “I highly doubt that.”

You scoped the area, police cars swarming the area. You both jogged up the steps, the surrounding officers blocking the entrance.

“This is official police work.” One grunted.

Sighing, you grabbed your badge, flipping it around, “I’ve been sent here to take this case.”

Scowling, “Move out men, there’s been a jurisdictional change.”

Smiling, you move to the side, a swarm of police men leaving the premises, Jimin smirked. It always felt nice to see men scold because a woman was taking over their case.

Once the last man left, you and Jimin walked in, your eyes falling on the spot that had caution tape wrapped around it. Paintbrushes scattered the table, art pieces decorating the room, dried blood staining the wood.

“What the hell…” You mumbled, glancing around.

Before you could say anything else, a woman walked in the room, her cheeks stained with tears, her nose red as if she cried all night.

“Hi,” She whispered, wiping her nose gently with a tissue, “I assume you’re the detectives that the government sent for.”

“Yes ma’am.” You sent her a warm smile, Jimin doing the same. “What happened if you don’t mind me asking?”

She sighed, “Miss Choi has been very distant here lately, recently fixing up some paintings. She had informed me that she was cleaning The Grande Odalisque; a painting that she said was dear to her. I come here every evening to help her clean but last night I came and her body was limp, blood pouring from her throat and the painting gone.”

You glanced at Jimin, his eyebrows furrowed, “Gone?”

“Yes,” the girl whispered, “Everything else is here but that painting.” She emphasized with a point to the table.

“Alright, thank you.” You smiled.

Sending you a quick nod, the girl turned away, her dress swaying with every step she took. Sighing, you glanced back at Jimin who was only looking more confused by the second.

“What does someone want with a fucking painting,” Jimin spat out, leaning his weight against a counter.

“I don’t know…” You mumbled, your eyes fixed on the table, “But, I think I might have an idea on who could give us some answers.”

“And who is that?” Jimin quizzed, crossing his arms, looking at you with disbelief.

“Just a con artist named Kim Taehyung.”

“And how is a con artist going to help us?”

You crossed your arms and made your way towards the exit, the sound of Jimin hot on your trail causing you to smirk.

“According to Seokjin, Kim knows his way around art, preferably the underground aspects of it.” You hummed, opening your car door as Jimin got behind the wheel.

“And what is some underground art douche going to know what we need to know?”

“His file is pretty thick,” You shot back, “and I’m going to use that against him.”

You grabbed his file from the floorboard, grunting as it plopped down on your lap.

“Ah,” You exclaimed, “Here’s his address.”

Typing the address into your phone, you and Jimin head that way, Jimin telling you all the things that could go wrong but Jimin had worries on every case, especially when you were involved. Once Jimin let out all his frustration, you found yourself at Taehyung’s address, a long gravel road ahead of you and a large white mansion sitting at the end.

“Fuck,” Jimin hissed.

Once the car came to a halt, a figure came walking out the house, his hair bleach blonde and his body dressed with all black, his right arm covered in black tattoos. Grabbing the file, you get out, Jimin following right behind as you approached this mysterious figure.

“And who are you?” His gruff voice called out, his arms now coming up to cross against his chest.

“I’m Detective ______ and this is Detective Park. We’re here to speak to Kim Taehyung.”

He nodded his head, motioning for you both to follow. His mansion was filled with artwork, vases, and small sculptures that resembled the larger ones you learned about in school. As your feet echoed down the hall, the man stopped you, his palm pressing against your shoulder, Jimin stepping up.

“Let me ask him first,”

Nodding your head, he opened a large mahogany door, speaking a few words before turning back at you, jerking his head for you both to come in. You walked past him, his eyes following you but your eyes landing on the black hair that sat on a leather chair, his back facing you.

“Have a seat,” The figure called out, gesturing towards the other leather chair.

Clearing your throat, you make your way over to the chair, your breath getting caught in your throat. This man, Kim Taehyung, was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His lips plump, his skin sun-kissed, and his brown eyes pierced right back at you, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“And what brings a detective to my home?” He enquired, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smirked, “I was brought here because there has been a murder,”

“Ah,” He laughed, “what does a murder have to do with an art dealer like m—“

“Let me talk,” You interrupted, “A woman named Miss Choi died yesterday because of a certain painting she was cleaning. Perhaps you know of the painting; The Grande Odalisque.”

He breathed out, “Even if I did, what’s in it for me for helping the feds?”

“This,” You reached over and took the file from Jimin, dropping the thick folder on his coffee table, dust flying off the file. “If you don’t help me, I’ll turn you in for embezzlement, second degree murder with a gun, and hm, let’s see,” You flipped through his files some more, “ah, and money laundering. So tell me, Mr. Kim, I can turn this in and you and I assume your hitman over here can spend the rest of your life in prison or you can help me find the person who murdered this old woman and find the missing painting. Which one sounds better to you?” You raised an eyebrow.

He pursed his lips, leaning over and shutting the file, “Fine, I’ll help,” He huffed, “But I expect to be paid on my part,”

“And ten percent,” The man behind him whispered causing Taehyung to nod his head.

“Yes, as well as ten percent.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll meet you back at Jeon’s,” Taehyung mumbled, patting the side of the car before crossing the road.

After you had left, Taehyung quickly made suit and now he was here, at this dreadful library. The only person who might know of a lead is another filthy art dealer like himself, Kim Namjoon. Namjoon never trusted Taehyung, thinking the young man would short him out some money but Taehyung knew never to try Namjoon, for the man would burn his house down with Taehyung in it. He was a ruthless man, never caring what people thought; a scar running down the side of his cheek to be exact. Taehyung was never truly nervous around anyone but Namjoon, on the other hand, made his finger twitch with every movement. 

The sound of his feet echoed throughout the room, people scattered throughout and the man of the hour sat back, a wine glass in his hand and a scornful look on his face. 

“Ah, Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung hummed, making himself a glass of wine before making himself comfortable.

“What is it?” He growled setting his glass down, Taehyung smirked, bringing the glass to his lips. 

“Nothing peculiar,” He sighed, “Just had a client interested in a piece.”

“And what piece is that?”

“The Grande Odalisque,” 

Namjoon scoffed, “And what would one of your clients want with that piece? There’s only one in the whole world,” Namjoon stood up, walking over to the bookcase that stood tall beside him, pulling out a thick leather book. “And,” He continued, “The last time it was seen was after the Battle of Bayonne which if I remember, France lost. So,” He sat back down in front of Taehyung, raising an eyebrow, “I highly assume that the piece is gone.”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,”

Standing up, Taehyung sat his glass down and brushed his pants off, “And what makes you so sure of that?” Namjoon quizzed, watching Taehyung’s every move. 

“Mm, I just have this gut feeling you know,” Sending a fake smile towards Namjoon. 

He made his way back towards the exit but he was soon shoved into a corner of the library, Namjoon gripping his shoulders, shoving the young man against the wall, a grunt escaping past his lips. 

“If I even hear that you have anything to do with that piece, I will personally ruin you.” 

“Noted,”

Namjoon finally let loose and walked away. 

If Taehyung’s file wasn’t so thick, he wouldn’t give two shits about this painting; nude photos weren’t really his style. That wasn’t the only reason he agreed to this case, you were solely another reason. You were beautiful. He’s been with many girls but you, you took his breath away. There was something so hot about a woman being in charge and if he was to be truthful, it made him kind of horny. 

Making his way down the front of the library, Taehyung glanced around before taking a quick turn to the right down a dimly lit alleyway filled with graffiti. Jeon’s car garage only served art dealers like Taehyung, knowing how where to place art pieces so dealers could smuggle their pieces off to different parts of the world. To Taehyung’s dismay, he had one buyer from the States, not truly caring to have any business with him but the man was money-hungry for any piece Taehyung could give him just so he could turn around and sell it for more. However, the joke was normally on him, the pieces Taehyung selling him worth less than what Taehyung was selling it for. That’s how he played his game and so far, he’s done a pretty good damn job at it. 

“Ah, Jeon,” Taehyung called out, his voice echoing throughout the workshop. Rolls Royce, Audis, Lamborghini’s and any expensive car that one could imagine lingered throughout this shop. 

“Taehyung,” A young man with black hair came climbing up the ladder. “How have you been you no good son of a bitch?” 

Taehyung chuckled, “I’ve been good,” 

Jungkook was young, taking on his father’s business after he passed five years ago. If Taehyung was honest, he’s done better work on his car than Jungkook’s father has ever done. 

His body was decked out in an all-black jumpsuit, a red cloth wiping off the oil before he stuck his hand out, Taehyung smiled, shaking the young man’s hand. 

“You know, Taehyung, you need to be nicer to your car,” He exclaimed, wiping some dust off the front, “Audi’s are wonderful cars and if you keep treating it the way you do then—“ 

The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the shop, Jungkook grunting as the mysterious bullet settled into his chest. 

“Oh fuck!” Taehyung called out, watching as Jungkook cupped his chest, blood painting his hand. 

“I’ve been shot,” He whimpered.

Before Taehyung could even get the young man to safety, another shot sounded off, hitting Jungkook once more in the chest. A pained screamed left his lips before he collapsed on the ground, his body lifeless. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Taehyung panicked, ducking down between the two cars, pulling his colt out of his pocket. 

Another shot went off, the bullet smashing the mirror off a car, glass falling onto Taehyung. Perching up, Taehyung saw a man ducking behind a car. Cocking his gun, Taehyung sent a shot towards the man, the bullet ricocheting off a car. 

“Taehyung,” 

The gruff voice of Yoongi calmed Taehyung’s nerves a bit. Yoongi stepped over Jungkook, groaning at the site but quickly sent another bullet towards the man who dodged it, making Yoongi growl. 

“Leave through the back, Taehyung. I’ll pick you up once I kill this fucker.”

Taehyung nodded, quickly rising to his feet, gunshots going off once more. Finding himself in the back, Taehyung took off, panting as he looked for a place to duck until Yoongi would get him but he was soon rammed into the wall, a huff of air escaping his lungs.

“Give me the painting,”

“What?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, a French-sounding man had him pinned against the wall, his gun settling between his fingers in one hand. 

“Give me the painting,” He growled once more.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Taehyung shot back.

“I know you have the painting,” He urged on, pressing Taehyung harder into the wall.

“What fucking painting?” 

“The Grande Odalisque!”

Before Taehyung could even answer, the man's body was slung off Taehyung, the Audi stopped right in front of him. 

“Get in!” Yoongi called.

Taehyung glanced at the man who was groaning, rolling his body around on the ground before getting in the car. Backing the car out, Yoongi sped off, the only sound was the pants of Taehyung. 

“We need to meet up with the Detective…Now!”

You leaned against the table, your head hanging between your shoulders. A soft sigh escaped your lips as your eyes graced over the report for the fiftieth time it seemed. Jimin was sat beside you, his hair flopping over his forehead, his eyes scanning the same file you were currently looking at. You couldn’t understand what the significance of this Ingres piece. “Alright,” You mumbled, standing up straight, “We’ll just start from the beginning again.” A groan passed Jimin’s lips, “Miss Choi began cleaning the Ingres piece Tuesday evening, her helper already gone and locking her home up beside the backdoor of her art studio. By herself, Miss Choi had no suspensions but there was someone creeping in her backyard who then came to her window, silently opening it and sneaking through—“

“How didn’t she hear them?” Jimin scoffed, rubbing his hands against his face. 

“Either way, her throat was slit and the Odalisque missing.” 

You leaned back against the table, your eyes gazing at the photos that the police department sent over. From the looks of it, Miss Choi had to have been in her late seventies. Sighing, you crammed all the photos into a pile, placing them back in their designated folder. 

“I just don’t understand the significance of this piece.” 

“Which is why I’ve brought Taehyung into this case,” You answered, tossing the file on top of Taehyung’s file. 

Before Jimin could send you a snarky response, your phone began buzzing, a restricted number shining on the screen. Glancing up at Jimin, you answer the phone, static quickly filling your ear. 

“Hello?” You grunt, pulling the phone slightly from your ear.

“Is this Detective _____?” The voice rang.

“Who’s speaking?” “Taehyung,” Your eyes widen, mouthing his name to Jimin.

“Find out anything?” “Meet me back at my mansion now.” He ended the call, a soft sigh leaving your lips. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you gather the files and leave Jimin with a confusing look on his face. The ride to Taehyung’s was fast, your mind filling with questions. His hitman was out in the front already waiting for you, a new scratch adorning his face. Sending you a curt smile, he led you to a different room. A large table and books adorned the room and Taehyung sat at the end of the table, a finger pressed to his lips and his eyes zoned out. “Taehyung,” His head jerked up, his lips falling into a frown. “Sit,” His voice rumbled. Your thighs clenched at his voice. Sitting down beside him, you sat the files down on the table, his eyes landing on his in particular. “Do you really have to carry that fucking thing around with you?” You sighed, “Why’d you have me come here?” “Come sit down, Yoongi.” His hitman, who now has a name, sat down in front of you, his eyes landing on you. You studied his face, a cut going through his eyebrow and a bandage peeking out from underneath his shirt. “People think I have the missing Odalisque.” “Well do you?” You quizzed. “No,” He shot back, slowly breathing as he sent you a glare, “I didn’t even care for that fucking piece. Not only that,” He continued, “The man who tried to kill me today killed my fucking car guy! He was two years shy of my age and now he’s dead.” You choked on your spit, eyes wide at the comment, “Someone tried killing you?” “He’s not from here. He sounds like he’s from France but from the information, I gathered earlier, that Odalisque had last been seen after the Battle of Bayonne.” “And when was that?” “1814” You sighed, hanging your head low as you tried understanding all the information that was given to you. If that painting was last seen in 1814, then how did Miss Choi get ahold of it? “There’s said to be only one in the whole world,” Taehyung piped up, “but, if that’s the case then I don’t understand how that woman got ahold of such a painting.” “Maybe there’s more than one painting,” You whispered. Grabbing her file, you open and disperse the photos on the table, Taehyung and Yoongi grabbing random ones. “Oh god,” Taehyung grumbled, tossing the photo of her neck onto the table, “There must be something pretty significant about this painting if someone is willing to slice an old woman’s throat up like that.” “I know,” You mumbled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, “I feel like there’s no lead. We know all that we can know.” “Do you think you can take us to the crime scene?” Taehyung quizzed. “I don’t see why not,” Gathering your files, you take your own self out, Taehyung and Yoongi following behind. You have officially decided that this case was going to be the death of you and it only truly started today. You mentally groaned, your nerves making your fingers twitch with anticipation. You wanted this whole case to just blow over but in reality, the man behind you that talked of art intrigued you. You normally weren’t one to fall in love so easily at first sight but this man, this dashing young man whose hair was as black as night and his beauty out of this world, you couldn’t help but fall in love. Thankfully for you, you were good at hiding your emotions, good at not showing the fact that anytime he flicked his eyes towards you or licked his plump ass lips, he couldn’t tell that your stomach flipped and heat pulled between your legs. As you arrived at the crime scene, the sky had darkened and rain slowly began falling. You had informed her helper that you were coming, leaving the backdoor open for you. Motioning for Taehyung and Yoongi to follow, the two had odd sayings about the house, making comments on everything they saw. You wanted to laugh but you were here on duty. Opening the backdoor, Miss Choi’s helper sat in the studio, her face not as rosy and her eyes not as swollen, she seemed better. “Hi,” You said softly, sending her a smile. “Hello,” “This is Kim Taehyung and his bodyguard Yoongi, they’re helping me on this case.” Both men sent her a smile, rummaging around. “Detective ______, I found a camera in her drawer when I was cleaning,” The helper started, grabbing an envelope from the table that sat beside her, “Miss Choi always took pictures of her progress.” She smiled, holding back tears as she spoke of the late Miss Choi. “I printed all the pictures that had the painting in them. I hope this helps.” Thanking her, the young girl left once more, leaving you with Taehyung and Yoongi. Sighing, you found yourself standing at the same table she was murdered at once again. “Oh god,” Taehyung gagged making you jerk your head towards him. Two of his fingers barely grasping a sheet of paper that had a note written on it. “Love your bug…” He gagged once more. You walked over and took the paper from him, scoffing. Your eyes scanned the note which was written in crayon and had a smiley face drawn at the bottom. “She had children,” He cringed, his body shuddering as he moved to another spot of the room. “Whose bug?” You murmured, placing the note back onto the table. Turning around, you noticed Taehyung throwing his head back with wine pouring into his mouth. “Taehyung you can’t move anything from the crime scene or drink anything at that.” He wiped his mouth, “Sorry,” Walking back to the table, you shuffle through the pictures once again, nothing deeming itself important. “There’s nothing important in these photos,” You groan, wanting to throw a whole tantrum but the presence of Taehyung standing beside you seemingly calmed you down. His thick fingers began shuffling through the photos, tossing some that weren’t important until he stopped on one picture, bringing the paper closer. “What is it?” You quizzed, standing on the tip of your toes to view the picture. It was an accidental picture; her face filling half the picture but the painting was gently bent in half in the background. “Hm,” his voice rumbled, dropping the rest of the pictures in his hand onto the table, “There’s a set of numbers on the back of the painting.” “And why does that matter?” “Because,” He sighed, shoving the picture into his coat pocket, “The only reason there were ever numbers on the back of paintings, back in those times, were numbers to riches.” “What kind of riches?” “Money. Loads and loads of money.” You nodded your head, resting your weight against the table, crossing your arms against your chest. “And what will we do with numbers to an account that we have no way of accessing?” You quizzed, looking up at the man who was nibbling on his lips, his mind wondering the same as you. He sighed, throwing his head back as he brought his hand up to his face to rub his jaw, “I hate that I’m even suggesting this—“ “What?” You interrupt. “Let me speak,” He mocked, sending you a smirk once your face showed annoyance, “I know of an English man who can enter these numbers and find how much money is involved.” “And who's this man?” “Charlie Mortdecai.” “Mortdecai…” You mumbled. “Another successful art dealer like me but he’s more on the broke side while I’m rolling around in money.” “God you people are everywhere,” You scoffed. His laugh filled the room, your cheeks flushing at the sound. “Yes but it pains me to say this: we need to fly to London.”

The flight over to London seemed long and quite terrible at that. Taehyung and Yoongi kept your ears—well mainly Taehyung—kept your ears filled with nonsense. He spoke of how terrible the wine was, how you were so quiet and the best one of all, he asked about your love life. You wanted to blush, tell the sweet man that you had a man to yourself but you found yourself telling the truth, letting him know that you haven’t dated since you entered the detective field. This however made his ears perk. He found you attractive and you found him attractive—or from what he could tell—he found no problem in you two talking.

Sadly, what made things tenser, was the fact that you had to share a room with Taehyung. The hotel ended up messing up the rooms, giving Yoongi a one-bedroom stay with a queen-sized bed and left you and Taehyung with two full-sized beds which were arm lengths apart. You tried entertaining the thought of you and Yoongi switching rooms but all you got was a grunt and a small laugh leaving Taehyung’s lips as his grumpy hitman slammed the door in your face, a pout settling on your lips.

“I don’t understand why you’re laughing,” You huffed, roughly shoving the keycard into the slot.

“Yoongi is not someone who would give up a one-person room,” He hummed, shutting the door behind him as you chunked your suitcase onto a nearby chair.

“And why’s that?” You hiss, crossing your arms which only made him laugh more.

“He likes to hook up with people,” He replied calmly, “I don’t blame him though. If I could end up with random girls every night I would.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Why can’t you? You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

Taehyung chuckled, throwing his long body on the bed, his black curls laying neatly on his pillow, “I’d rather get myself involved with a smart woman. Someone who is a challenge keeps me on my toes.” His eyes darted to you, his wet muscle coming out to graze his bottom lip, your stomach flipping at the sight.

You only nodded your head though even though your stomach, mind, and vagina all said something different. Taehyung was completely your type but you knew deep down it wasn’t right to get involved with him because of his lifestyle but you’re highly considering throwing the lifestyle in the back of your head and hopping on his dick. The thought made you throb and by the way he’s staring at you, you could tell he sensed the sexual tension in the room.

“You know,” He sighed sitting up, his eyes roaming your body, “I didn’t expect you to be so tolerable.”

You chuckled, grabbing your bundle of files from your suitcase, “And why’s that?” You mused, the sound of the files hitting the bed making a thump.

You could hear a soft sigh, “Can you not worry about this case for one second?”

Before you could reply, the feeling of his body pressing against you caused your hand to shake. His body over towered you, the feeling of his hands lightly ghosting your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Stepping back, you glance up at him, his eyes already staring back at you, his breath lightly fanned your face. Your throat clamped up, the sight of him licking his lips once again making you want to grab him by his hair and pull him into a kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” He hummed, wrapping his hands around your elbows, bringing your body into his softly.

“Taehyun—“

“I know you feel it too,” He whispered, his fingers lightly rubbing the soft skin, “The sexual tension that’s filled the air between us. Yoongi can’t stand being around us,” He chuckled.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gently removing yourself from his grip, rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before locking it.

Soft pants left your lips as your heart thrummed like it never has before. How dare he speak what you’re only thinking. You didn’t think any sexual tension filled the air but knowing that Yoongi didn’t switch just to escape you two made your cheeks flush. You and Taehyung have hardly had any time together, this case just now skyrocketed and now you find yourself stuck in London with a handsome ass man.

Sighing, you flush the toilet and act like you’re washing your hands. You quickly threw water on your burning face before leaving the bathroom, Taehyung nowhere in sight.

Letting out a breath of relief, you walk towards your bed to lay down until Taehyung and Yoongi barge in, Yoongi letting out a scowl at the sight of you.

“Mortdecai is ready to meet us,” Taehyung mumbled walking over to his suitcase, placing his gun on his hip before turning back around, his eyes soft as they look at you.

Nodding your head, you follow the boys out and sit in silence as you made your way to wherever Mortdecai was meeting. The streets of London made your mouth drop in awe. You wanted to stop and sightsee but you know that would only cause Yoongi to growl and Taehyung to scoff at your touristy attitude. The rude there was in complete silence. Taehyung seemed tense, his eyes frantically searching through the streets as they whizzed by. The girlfriend side of you wanted to hold his hand, rub the soft skin for comfort but the detective side of you wants you to mind your own damn business.

The car suddenly came to a halt, Taehyung’s hand nudging at your thigh gently before you finally opened the door. Before you were a tall marble building that had people floating in and out. Taehyung thanked the driver before slamming the door, his large body covering yours as he walked off, Yoongi’s following right behind.

“Where are we?” You quizzed, lightly jogging to catch up to the two who seemed too nervous to be seen in public.

“He wanted to meet us at this library,” Taehyung mumbled, holding the door open for you, the cool air sending shivers down your body.

Nodding your head, Taehyung quickly glanced around before a man with a black turtleneck and bald head walked up, “Kim Taehyung?” He grunted.

Taehyung nodded his head, “And you must be Jock,” He smiled.

The man quickly nodded his head before walking off, you three following quickly behind as he led you into a back room.

Another man was present, his back facing you as he brought a wine glass up to his lips. The room was filled with books and beautiful art pieces decorated the wall. There were so many beautiful things about London and honestly, you were willing to spend another day here just to explore.

Turning your focus back to the man, his lean figure finally turned around. You wanted to grimace at the sight: a dark brown mustache took home on his lip, his brown hair slicked back and his body decorated with a burgundy velvet suit. A sly smile was placed on his lips as he looked at Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Ah, the best dealer from Seoul,” He started, throwing his head back, the wine disappearing in a split second, “What brings you here to London?”

Before Taehyung could answer, Mortdecai’s eyes fell onto you, his lips pulling up into a smirk, “And who is this?” He continued.

Taehyung turned around, his fist clenching at his side, “This is my girlfriend, _____.”

You choked on your breath, your eyes wide as Taehyung sent you a tense smile before turning back to the man. Girlfriend? Why would he tell Mortdecai that you were his girlfriend? Also, his English was magnificent, you wouldn’t be able to tell that his first tongue was Korean. You wanted to speak up and tell him that you were, in fact, one of the top detectives in Seoul but Taehyung gave you no time to interject before he answered Mortdecai’s first question.

“There’s been a piece that has gone missing,”

“And what does that have to do with me?” He chuckled, pouring himself some more wine before finding him a seat.

Taehyung huffed, “There has been a murder in Seoul. This woman was cleaning this piece and someone stole the painting and slit the poor woman’s throat. Thankfully we have pictures of the missing piece,”

Taehyung turned his body towards you, your body flinching before handing the packet over. His fingers lightly grazed yours as he took them from you, a soft smile settling across his face as he turned around, handing the packet over to Mortdecai who quickly pulled the photos out.

“Ah,” He hummed, “The Grande Odalisque. This piece is magnificent and there is said to be only one in the world,” He quickly flicked through the rest of the photos before tossing them onto the table beside him, “So, what does the missing of this Odalisque have anything to do with me?” His head crooked to the side as he sent Taehyung a warm smile.

Digging in his coat, Taehyung pulled another photo from his pocket, “There’s a set of numbers written on the back of this piece. According to Kim Namjoon—“

“Ew,” He fake gagged, “What a horrible man. What’re you doing talking to him?”

Taehyung only laughed, “Anyways, Namjoon mentioned that this painting was created around the time of the Battle of Bayonne, said that the French lost and the painting missing.”

Mortdecai sighed, “Then there is more than one Odalisque in the world.”

“Which is why I am come to you,” Taehyung hummed, “I need you to look up these sets of numbers and see if these numbers link to an account of any sort.”

Standing up, Mortdecai took the picture from Taehyung, his eyes tracing over the set of numbers before motioning for you to follow. You all follow behind as he leads you through the various rows of books before coming to a separate part of the library, his fingers tracing the spines before landing on a huge, leathery book, his hand wrapping around the thick pile of paper before dropping it on the table, a soft cough leaving your lips as you swat away the dust.

Mumbling to himself, he quickly skims through the pages before landing on The Grande Odalisque, the page shaded brown as age catches up to it. You all swarm the book, Mortdecai silently reading to himself before mumbling an aha.

“According to this, the Odalisque was created in 1814 and as you mentioned, the French did lose the battle but the Odalisque was not ruined.” His finger continued skimming through, “Also, right here it mentions that the United Kingdom got ahold of the painting, replicating the masterpiece for the sake of hiding the secret account.” Shutting the book, your body slowly jumped as he sent a short smile to Taehyung, “Your friend, Namjoon, was wrong. There is another piece out there with the correct bank account.”

“Wait,” Taehyung yelped, “You mean to tell me that the numbers plastered across the one that is missing is not the correct bank account?”

“Mm, no,” He whizzed, placing the book back on the shelf, “Someone, somewhere placed that incorrect account on the back of the fake painting.”

“Then where is the other painting?”

Mortdecai sighed, “That I don’t know,” He mumbled, “But, I do have an idea.”

“How the hell is that going to work, Taehyung?” 

Tossing your jacket on your suitcase, you fold your arms and glare at the man who only ran his fingers through his hair, shrugging his jacket off before looking back at you. 

After you all found out some more details about the Odalisque, Mortdecai suggested that Taehyung lies to a famous art dealer over in America named Simmons. The idea was dumb and by the way, Taehyung has stayed silent, the plan is going to fall through. Mortdecai wants to sell the Grande Odalisque to Simmons, letting him know that himself, Taehyung would be there. The idea was crazy. Many wrongs could go down but Taehyung seems to trust this man, agreeing after Mortdecai assured him the plan would work because according to him, ‘Simmons is a dumb buyer who will buy anything from him’. You wanted to trust him, to know that this plan will work but it seems too risky and if things don’t go right, there is no telling what could go down. You have never been involved with the underground art world but from studying Taehyung’s files, many murders happened secretly that even the police didn’t know about. 

“It’ll work, I promise.” His voice was soft, almost soothing you but you were still worried. 

“How are you so sure? You don’t even know this Simmons guy but you’re willing to fly not only yourself but for me and Yoongi over to California to sell a painting that none of us have,” You continued. “How is that going to work, Taehyung? We don’t know where these paintings are but you’re going to sell a fucking painting?” You bring your fingers up, putting sell in quotations as Taehyung looked at you with a smirk.

“Listen,” He hummed, sitting on the corner of your bed, “This will work. Even though I hate saying this, I trust Mortdecai.” 

“Then why hate saying it?” You urged, crossing your arms.

“I typically do my deals on my own but Mortdecai is someone I would do a risky sell with.” 

You scoffed, pushing your hair back as you pondered the plan in your head. Taehyung was stupid. You were stupid. All three of you were stupid for even coming here to London. This painting was stupid, the woman was murdered and like the others, it sure didn’t seem to hurt to sweep those murders away so why not sweep this one away? 

Fuck, you groaned, that’s not nice, you thought to yourself. You threw your head back in annoyance before trailing your eyes back to Taehyung who already had his eyes on you. A soft smile grew on his lips. Standing up, Taehyung made his way over to you, his hands gently coming out to lace around your elbows once more, sparks igniting across your body. 

“How about we go out and explore, hm? I saw you staring with big, bright eyes at everything we passed.”

You were taken back. Taehyung was willing enough to take you out on the town, to spend one-on-one time with you. A smile drew on your face before you nodded. “Good,” He hummed, letting go of your elbows to put his jacket back on, “Let’s go.”

Shrugging your jacket back on, you follow Taehyung out. Your heart was fluttering. Relief filled your body because although you’ve had feelings for Taehyung since the day you met him, you haven’t had any time to truly know the man, to figure him out, to know why he does what he does. You had plenty of questions to ask him and tonight deemed itself to be the perfect night to do so. Although your detective-state-of-mind wanted to stay back to talk about action plans, this seemed to calm you and that is all you need before the true storm comes. The cold night air sent shivers down your spine, your body automatically trembling. Noticing this, Taehyung slips his arm around your shoulder, gently pulling you into his side, your cheeks flushing at the action. You both walked in quiet as the night lights preoccupied your mind anyways. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, almost as beautiful as Seoul at night. Although this is fun, you miss home. You miss Jimin, Hoseok, and even your strict boss Seokjin. “There is a really good restaurant down the street here,” Taehyung smiled down at you. Nodding your head, you followed Taehyung’s lead. For the rest of the walk, you two stay in complete silence. At the end of the street, there were fairy lights decorating the roof, plants dangling off the rails and the atmosphere soothing your nerves. “It’s beautiful,” You mumbled, mouth dropping in awe as you two waited for a table. The waitress took you two to the back corner, the lights dim which made the atmosphere more romantic. Taehyung was being a complete gentleman. Pushing you up to the table, draping your jacket across your chair and letting you choose whatever you wanted on the menu. Something about this made your heart flutter and all you wanted to do was smile so widely but you didn’t want to put your guard down too quickly. “How did you find this place?” You mused, swirling the wine around in the glass. “I found this place when I made my first art sell here.” “How long have you been doing this? The whole underground art world?” He chuckled, “So that’s what you all call it? Underground…” A boxy smile shined back at you, your heart melting at the sight, “I’ve been doing this since I was twenty.” “Wow,” You gaped, “and you’re already such a well-known art dealer.” “For someone who works for the government, you seem pretty proud of how far I’ve come.” He raised an eyebrow at you, heat pooling in your underwear. “There’s a lot of things that I find myself fond of about you.” You admit shyly. He cocked an eyebrow, “And what’s that?” You coughed, “Well…you love what you do, you are very hardworking, you let nothing get in your way and you’re very smart…” You glance up, sending him a shy smile before dropping your guard completely, “and you’re very handsome, someone that I wouldn’t mind looking at all the time.”

A low growl emitted from his chest, “Is that so?” His deep timber voice traveled.

You slowly nodded your head, ready to respond but the sight of the food being placed down threw you completely off guard. Whatever you had to say could be said later but the way Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you seemed that he didn’t care for the food, only you. Ignoring the stare, you place some food in your mouth, a low moan slipping from your throat at the delightful taste that this food brought. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Taehyung tense up, his knuckles going white as they gripped the poor metal fork.

Dinner went by tensely. You could feel the sexual tension in the air as you both ate, walked home, and now as you both stand a couple of inches apart in the elevator. You didn’t know if anything was going to happen because quite frankly, the way his jaw clenched every time you moved or when you muttered a simple word of praise at the food, his jaw would clench and his eyes steady on you. Even though you hate to admit it, your thighs had been clenched the whole dinner, heat pooling in your panties as you noticed the intense stares and the way his jawline clenched and unclenched; it was hot of course but you were too busy on the food.

As the elevator finally reached your floor, the sexual tension -even though you couldn’t see how- rose even more as you both walked down the hallway. As you approached your door, the sound of moans quietly fills the area around you. Grunting, Taehyung glances over at Yoongi’s room, a scoff escaping his lips as he presses his ear up to the door.

“For fuck’s sake,” He mumbled shaking his head as if this action would get rid of the sinful sounds he heard.

Giggling at this, Taehyung sends you a smirk before opening the door for you, the cool air hitting your body, tingles coating your body as the air cooled you down. This was the moment to see if anything would happen between you two. Part of you wanted everything to happen but the other part keeps telling you that this is a work event, you’re on duty and you shouldn’t be spreading your legs for a man whose file is thicker than his own arm.

Sighing, you shrug your jacket off before kicking off your heels, another -and even though you didn’t mean to- moan fell from your lips, the feeling of the flat floor making your quietly shiver at the comfort. Before long, you hear a soft sigh sounding behind you, the sound of Taehyung’s bare feet padding against the floor as he found himself laid upon your bed, his eyes wandering over your body. You felt your body flush once more, the cool air not helping anymore. Turning your body towards his, you raise your arms, a cocked eyebrow placed amidst your face as he sent back a sinful smirk. 

“What is it, _____?” He mused, your name sounds so sinful coming from his lips.

“Nothing,” You whispered rubbing your arms trying to create any friction.

He chuckled, pushing himself off your bed before standing himself in front of you, his bangs hanging over his eyes as he stared at you, his eyes roaming your face, looking for any sign; the sign that he wants.

“You looked so gorgeous tonight,” He began, his hands finding their way to your elbow, his thumb rubbing the soft skin, “but, you didn’t seem to think of what you were doing.” He hummed.

You gulped, “And what was I doing?” Your eyes finally found his.

He smirked, “You know what you were doing, moaning every time that god damn food touched your pretty little mouth.” His grip on your elbow tightened and unfortunately, your panties began sticking to you and it was becoming uncomfortable.

Before you could even process what he said, he smashed his lips on yours, his lips soft against your own. You sighed, the feeling you have been waiting for is now happening and the butterflies in your stomach were erupting. Taehyung’s grip loosened, his hands falling to your hips, pulling your body flush against his, your hands finding home on his neck. Pulling back, Taehyung’s breath fanned in your face before he went back in but this time his tongue was begging for an entrance, the soft muscle skimming your bottom lip as you easily parted your mouth, his tongue finding yours immediately. Both your tongues pressed against each other, your teeth clashing as you both craved each other's touch.

Taehyung turned you around, your knees hitting the back of the bed as he pushed you down gently, your hair fanning out. He groaned, the sight of you making him feel some type of way. He wanted to take his time with you, to appreciate your body but he has had this pent up attraction towards you and truly, all he wanted to do was fuck that pretty little smirk off your face.

“Scoot up,” He demanded, his hands finding their way to his belt. Obeying immediately, you find yourself perched up on the pillows as he watched your every move. You never truly got to soak in what Taehyung looked like. He was handsome no doubt but he expanse of his shoulders, the way his button-up was threatening to pop at any second, the way his dark chocolate brown hair hung beautifully across his forehead; he was lethal and all you could do was fall more in love with the art piece. Ironically, he sold and dealt with art but he was the art to you.

Crawling up to you, Taehyung pressed his lips against yours once more but this time more gently as if he was savoring the moment; however, this didn’t last too long. His thick fingers began sliding up your thigh, the touch causing goosebumps to rise on demand. Soft moans left your lips as his tongue pressed further into your mouth and the feeling of his calloused fingers squeezing, pinching, and skimming the soft flesh already made your mind swirl. 

“What do you want?” He breathed, a string of saliva following his lips as they part from yours. 

You breathed slowly, “Would I seem desperate if I said you?” You cocked an eyebrow, causing him to chuckle at your answer. 

“Well, then I would be desperate as well because I want you,” His eyes flicked up to yours, his tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip, a glint of satisfaction at your reaction present in his eyes. 

All you could do was bite your lip and shyly nod. Relieved at this answer, Taehyung’s hands found their way to the back of your dress, pulling the zipper down slowly as he mouthed at your neck, gently sucking, nibbling and licking at the soft skin. Your hands found perched in his hair, gently tugging at the soft locks, causing a growl to emit from his lips, the sound vibrating off your skin. Pulling back from your neck, Taehyung grabs at your straps, tugging the fabric down until all you are left in is your bra and underwear, his gaze falling immediately upon your body. Your first instinct was to cover up but he quickly pinned your arms down, his breath increasing as he grew more impatient to make love to your body, to fuck your brains out. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” He groaned, his fingers slowly trailing down your body, your chest heaving up and down. 

You felt yourself blush at his comment. His fingers came to a halt at the hem of your underwear, your heat throbbing at the thought of him being so close to where you truly want him the most. Slightly bucking your hips, 

Taehyung smirked, a huff of air passed his lips, a tsk following soon after. 

“So needy,” He mumbled, his fingers hooking around the band, slowly tracing the fabric as his knuckles glided across your smooth skin. This only made your hips buck more, the small act making your body go wild. 

Chuckling, Taehyung finally lifted his fingers from your band and brought his hands up to your breast, grabbing a handful and squeezing at the mounds. You arched your back, your breasts always being a sensitive area for you. Taehyung’s face lit up, his mind going crazy with the thought of you being so sensitive, so easily flared up at the simple touch of his fingers. He wouldn’t tell you but this was driving him crazy and if he was honest, he could combust at any moment. 

“T-Tae,” You whispered, throwing your head back, your neck bare to him, his tongue skimming his bottom lip at the sight. 

“What is it, baby?” He cooed, your body reacting to the nickname causing Taehyung to smirk, “Like that? Like when I call you baby? What if I called you slut?” 

And just like that, a moan escaped your lips and your core throbbed. You didn’t think you would be into degrading names but here you were, losing your shit over being called a slut. 

Reaching behind your back, Taehyung quickly unsnapped your bra, throwing the fabric behind his back. A soft sigh escaped his lips, his mouth finding home on your left breast. His hand came up to your right breast, squeezing, pinching at your nipple as his mouth completely ravished your other nipple, sucking, biting, and swirling his soft muscle around. You couldn’t help the tumble of moans that left your lips as he devoured your breasts. Sliding your fingers through his hair, you glance down and notice the faint markings slowly showing up as he pulled back, your boob leaving his mouth with a pop. Glancing up at you, Taehyung sent you a smirk before he began mouthing between your breasts, swirling his tongue around the soft skin and made his way down to the hem of your underwear. 

Wrapping his fingers around the band, he slowly pulls the fabric down, a string of your arousal following the soaked garment, a growl falling from Taehyung’s lips as the sight. Once he completely rids you, you clamp your thighs shut, embarrassment coursing through your body. Glaring at you, Taehyung wraps his hands around your knees, pulling your legs open, cool air heating your core sending goosebumps across your body. 

“Fuck,” He whined, “You’re so fucking beautiful and so wet,” 

A soft whine passed your lips at the compliment and your ears burned at the sinful comment. Leaning back up, Taehyung rids himself of his shirt, his tan -and built- body coming into view, your mouth automatically drooling at the sight. You quickly wiped at your mouth before he could notice but the small chuckle that passed his lips signified that he already saw and your dignity was already out the door. 

“Want me to eat you out?” He questioned, his hands gently rubbing your thigh. 

All you could do was nod and with a soft kiss to the top of your knee, Taehyung has your legs pulled apart and his face inches away from your drenched hole. You felt his breath fan you, your hole clenching around nothing, the sight making Taehyung grind his hips against the bed. 

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already clenching around nothing,” He mused, his finger slowly tracing circles on the inner part of your thigh. 

“Taehyung,” You moaned, your fingers finding their way to his hair once again, “please hurry,” You begged, gently tugging at the strands. 

“Hurry for what?” He quizzed, arching his eyebrow at you. 

Before you could answer, Taehyung placed a gentle kiss to the top of your pussy, your head falling back onto the pillow. You felt him chuckle against you as he placed more gentle kisses and soon enough, his lips began sucking on the skin, hickies most likely decorating the area in the morning. 

“T-Tongue,” You finally got out, your hips bucking at one particular suck before he pulled back, his chin shining with your arousal. 

He laughed, “Look, I haven’t even got to taste you yet and your already covering my chin. How fucking nasty,” He cooed wiping the stringy mess on your thigh. Clenching at the sight, Taehyung brought his index and middle finger up, spreading your lips apart as he awed at the sight. 

“P-Please,” You begged, bucking your hips up at his face

“Are you sure about that?” He smirked, his hand coming down in a loud smack against your pussy, loving the way your hole clenched at the action, “I could fuck you right now you’re so goddamn wet. Would you like that?” He hummed, “Me ramming into you right now without prepping you? Stretching you out completely?” His finger grazed past your hole, bringing the slender digit up, your arousal dangling off the end, his tongue coming up to clean up the mess.

A moan passed your lips, the sight almost making your orgasm alone. Of course, you wouldn’t mind Taehyung fucking you right now but you also wanted to feel that devilish tongue inside you, those long, thick digits ramming inside you as well. 

“No,” You whined, “I want to feel your tongue,” You cried out, trying with all your might to push his head down south. 

Growling at your actions, Taehyung’s tongue licked straight up, your head jerking back. A soft pitched scream passed your lips as he continued to lick wide strips up to your needy hole. Moaning at the taste of you, Taehyung brought his fingers up, bringing his middle finger up to his mouth, sucking the digit before pressing it in you slowly, your pussy squelching at the action. 

You couldn’t get yourself to look down, to look at the mess he is making you. You have only been with a couple of men in your life but for some reason, for some unknown reason, this man that you willingly met, his a finger deep inside of you, making your body shiver at the simple move. Your breath came out in pants as he squeezed another finger in, a soft grunt passing his lips at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“God you’re so fucking tight,” He moaned, his fingers moving in a come here motion.

As soon as he began, your back bounced off the bed, his finger pressing on your sensitive spot. A small aha left his lips as your body slowly shivered at the feeling.

Pulling his fingers back, Taehyung inserted another finger, a wince leaving your lips at the stretch but pleasure soon filled your body as he began ramming his fingers in and out. Without fail, Taehyung hit your spot every time, squelching noises filling the room as your slick fell from your core, the bedsheets surely getting soaked. 

“You take my fingers so well, babygirl,” He hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your clit before wrapping his fingers around the nub. 

You truly thought you could orgasm without him messing with the little sensitive nub but soon enough you were arching your back and panting. A burning coil began feeling your stomach, your thighs slowly beginning to shake and all you could do was whine. Noticing this, Taehyung’s fingers only gained more speed and his knuckles bruised your skin as they continuously rammed against you. Your clit began throbbing with pleasure, his tongue swirling around the nib.

“I’m close,” You finally cry out, your grip around his hair tightening as his fingers thrust harder and his teeth nibble at your clit.

With a couple of more thrust and one more hard suck to your clit, you see stars. A scream passed your lips as your clamped your thighs shut around his head, his lips still attached to your clit and his fingers still thrumming in and out of you. His body moved with your hips as you moved them from side to side, hoping that the movement would calm down your orgasm. Removing his fingers from your sopping core, his tongue began lapping up your juices, the obscene sound making you whimper. With a few harsh licks, you gently nudge his head away, his chin, lips, and nose covered with your sweet nectar. 

“Mm,” He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “You taste so fucking good, babygirl,”

You dropped your legs on the bed, your chest heaving as you slowly came down from your high. Taehyung left gentle kisses against your thighs but soon enough, you found yourself rolling onto your knees, reaching out for his belt but his hands quickly caught yours, pushing you back. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t think I have the patience to receive a blowjob from you,” He hummed standing up from the bed, jerking his pants and underwear down, his length smacking against his stomach. 

You found yourself drooling once more but didn’t care to wipe since your dignity left a long time ago. This man was blessed. His tip was a deep shade of red, the poor thing pumping out precum. You awed at the sight of him but he quickly bent over, grabbing a condom from his wallet. 

“Like what you see?” He smirked, wrapping his fist around his length, wincing as he got closer to the raging head. His fingers slightly shook as he rolled the condom on, his dick screaming to be set free but you were both in the right mind to know that this was the right way. 

He crawled back up to the top of the bed, pressing his lips against yours once more, your juices still tainting his tongue causing you to moan at the taste. His hips ground against your core, his tip snagging at your hole at every thrust causing you to moan into the kiss. His hand slowly ran down your body, squeezing at certain parts of your skin before he gripped his dick, rubbing the tip against your clit, your moan rolling into his mouth. Sighing, you bite down on his bottom lip, pulling the thick skin back before letting go, sending a smirk to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He hummed, sending you a soft smile. 

You awed at the comment but your smile faded away once he nudged his length in, your hips thrusting up at the feeling. Glancing up, your eyes landed on him; lust-filled eyes looked back at you. His cheeks were rosy, his breath fanning his face and his mouth hung open as he slowly skimmed his tongue against his bottom lip. If someone were to look at him, they would think he had already been balls deep into someone but all he did was eat you out and he already looks like this. You wanted to remember this forever, remember that fucked out look because all you ever see is his murderous look, no emotions, and this right here, this made your heart flutter. 

“Are you ready?” He whispered, gliding his tip up and down your cunt.

“Yes,” You whispered back, pulling him down by the nape of his neck to pull him into a kiss.

Your lips softly moved together as he pressed his head in, your lips freezing at the stretch. Cooing, Taehyung placed gentle kisses across your face, trying his best to rid your face of pain. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you tap his hip gently. Sighing, Taehyung slowly pushes himself the rest of the way in, his dick throbbing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. It took everything in him not to bust because fuck if he wasn’t man enough he would have but he wasn’t going to show you just how much you affected him already. 

He stayed there, his dick filling you up, your pussy clenching around him and all he could do was pant and wait for your go. After another minute of waiting, you finally tapped his hip, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pushing himself back on his feet, he pulls his dick out, his tip settling against your entrance before slamming himself back in, a yelp leaving your lips. Smirking, Taehyung smacked your clit harshly the action making your hips buck up. 

“I’ve been sweet,” He began, pulling his hips back once more before ramming them back in, “but now I’m going to fuck you.”

Bringing his tip back to your entrance he threw himself over you, his hands catching him as his body caged you before he rammed his hips against yours again but continued thrusting. The sound of his hips smacking yours filled the room, the squelching sound is just as loud. He panted, his breath fanning your face as he furiously pounded your pussy, his tip grazing your cervix. You couldn’t breathe, your mouth hung open as you threw your head to the side, your fingers raking down his back but he was quick to grip your face, forcing you to look at him as he fucked your relentlessly. Leaning back up, Taehyung grabbed your thigh, lifting the limb over his shoulder, this angle causing his dick to hit your spot over and over again. All you could do was silently scream and soon enough, his hand found their way around your neck, gently squeezing your throat as he snapped his hips into you, your body jerking up. 

“Hm, it seems like you like being choked,” He chuckled, squeezing your neck more until you’re clawing at his hand.

Pulling back, Taehyung brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing quick curt circles around the nub causing your back to arch up as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves. You felt the slow-burning coil erupt in your stomach and all you could do was whine. You’ve never been able to cum once during sex but you’re fixing to cum twice and you feel like you’re in heaven; however, this soon stops as he pulls out, your hole clenching around nothing, your eyes shooting open and glaring at the man who only sent you a smirk before wrapping his hands around your waist and flipping you over. 

“Fuck,” He moaned, his hand immediately smacking the soft flesh, rubbing the sensitive spot as you arched your back to the pain. 

His left hand came down with a loud smack and then his right and all you could do was a whimper. He did this a few more times before he humped into you, his body leaning into yours. A soft moan left your lips at the feeling of his dick resting between your lips. Wrapping his hand around your neck, Taehyung pushed you into the ass-down-face-up position and you immediately wiggled your ass, hoping this would get him to push back into you and lucky for you, the feeling of being stretched once again overcome your body. 

“How’re you still so tight?” He grunted, thrusting his hips into you.

Snapping his hips against yours, Taehyung set a brutal pace once more, your face pressed against the pillow and his hands gripped your hips. This new angle allowed Taehyung to hit your spot harder and your body fell into euphoria. Reaching around, Taehyung’s fingers found your abused clit once more and drew quick circles around the nub and you felt that burning coil swelling up once more. 

“I-I’m close,” You moaned, grabbing onto anything that your hands could grip on. 

With a grunted same, Taehyung’s hips snapped into your harder. With a few more thrusts, your orgasm washed over you, black spots filling your vision and your body falling limp but Taehyung was quick to catch you. The feeling of your walls clenching around him made his hips stutter and with a few more clumsy thrusts, Taehyung pressed his dick into you, his dick spurting as he panted, his body hanging over yours, his breath fanning against your back. Riding out his high, Taehyung leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders until he fell limp. His body collapsed beside yours, his eyes shut as he tried catching his breath and all you could do was stare at him and that fluttery feeling came back. 

Your hands mindlessly found their way to his cheek, your thigh rubbing the smooth skin as his breathing came back to normal. His hand slowly came up to wrap his fingers around your palm, his eyes fluttering open, landing on you. A soft smile fell on your face and one was returned. 

“You were amazing,” You hummed,

He chuckled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss before pushing himself off the bed, removing the condom from his flaccid penis, chunking the used condom away into the bin before heading to the bathroom. Sitting up, you cross your legs before running a finger through your messy hair.

“Lay back,” Glancing up, Taehyung had a washcloth dangling in his hands.

You found yourself falling back, the feeling of the cold washcloth heaven against your scorching skin. Humming, Taehyung tosses the washcloth back into the bathroom, slipping his underwear back on before grabbing a clean pair from your suitcase, sliding them on your legs, placing a soft kiss to your thighs. 

“You’re being so nice,” You mumbled rolling over, snuggling into your pillow. 

He laughed, “Here,” Opening one eye, you notice a black shirt dangling from his fingers. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “That’s yours.”

“Wear it,” He whispered, urging the shirt into your possession which you accepted, slipping the loose garment on, the smell of him filling your nose. 

A soft smile found its way on his face at the sight of you cuddled under your blankets with his shirt draped over your figure. 

“Sleep with me,” You mumbled reaching for his fingers. 

His heart thrummed at the comment. He’s never got himself too involved with someone, his work being too important to him to even make time for a significant other; but with you, everything seemed right and he couldn’t figure out why. Sighing, Taehyung threw back your covers and cuddled in beside you, your legs immediately intertwining with his. 

“Good night,” You whispered drifting off to sleep.

“Good night,” Taehyung smiled, placing a soft kiss against your head before drifting off to sleep with you cuddled in his arms.

The morning after was sweet, something you didn’t expect. Taehyung woke you up sweetly, leaving soft kisses against your cheek. You still couldn’t believe what happened the night before but you still thought about the romantic night, your cheeks blushing at everything that passed through your brain. If your night spent together wasn’t any obvious, Yoongi was quick to make jokes, saying how you both had a glow that you two didn’t have that morning. Of course, you got two quick punches on him but Taehyung agreed, placing a soft kiss on your head which caused your cheeks to flare up.

And to your surprise, Taehyung continuously held your hand. He held it in front of Mortdecai, held it on the plane, and now he is holding it as you all make your way to Simmons house. You didn’t know how to feel. Even when this mission started, there was always sexual tension between you and Taehyung. The simple little touches set your heart on fire, the sneaked looks, the casual glances up and down, they all made your heart feel some way. Truth be told, at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him, to just use him to solve this case and let him off with multiple of murders and more but, for some odd reason, your heart found comfort, happiness, and overall, love.

The thing is, you wouldn’t tell him that you loved him. The timing wasn’t right, this may be first love kind of jitters, but you knew good and well not to mention this. The timing wasn’t right and there is a big possibility that once you get back to Seoul and complete this case, Taehyung would disappear, continuing his work and leaving you to ponder if you were just a simple hook-up. But the way he made you feel last night, you couldn’t even put it into words. No one has made you feel like this and he did in one night, hardly knowing anything about you but finding the simple detective girl interesting; however, Taehyung wouldn’t let you know this.

He couldn’t quite put his fingers on it, why you were filling his mind and why he found himself falling in love with the law when he was quite literally running away from it. He thought you were a silly girl at first, barking up the wrong tree when you came to him for help but in reality, you were fiery, quick to find a solution and this made his interest grow. You were beautiful and for some reason, even though he’s only known you for a short amount of time, he finds himself falling for you.

The flight to America was quick and the whole time you and Taehyung told little things about each other, trying anything to pass the time. Mortdecai booked you all a hotel and to your liking, you and Taehyung ended up in another room together. However, one thing that you found weird was that Mortdecai had Yoongi fly the car out with them but, since you didn’t want Taehyung to get frustrated again, you kept the bundle of questions to yourself, minding your business.

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbled, tossing his luggage on the ground, “You will stay here until I come back and get you for the reveal party tonight, okay?” He raised an eyebrow at you, rolling his sleeves up. 

“Why can’t I go with you?” You mumble, pouting at him. 

Chuckling, Taehyung pushed himself off the table and walked over to you, grabbing your chin gently before placing his lips onto yours. His lips were so soft and every time you kissed, all you could think about was last night, making your core throb. 

“Wouldn’t it be boring hearing men discuss art? Art that you don’t find any interest in?” His thumb gently rubbed your cheek, the small act soothing you. 

“Yes,” You hummed, placing your hand on top of his, “but wouldn’t it be much easier if I was already at the mansion with you?” 

Pinching your cheek gently, Taehyung walked over to his suit for the night. Zipping the bag open, a cool royal blue gown was hanging before his suit, your mouth gaping at the material.

“Fine,” He mumbled, his fingers rubbing the silky fabric, “I had my designer make this dress for you last minute. I hope you like it,”

You immediately grabbed the fabric, the silky garment feeling so nice between the pads of your fingers. It was gorgeous. Beautiful rhinestones decorated the top and scattered down the sleeves. 

“Of course,” You smiled sweetly. 

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Taehyung started leaning down but the sound of a knock ringing throughout the room caused him to huff and a small giggle to pass your lips. 

“What?” Taehyung grunted. 

“It’s time to go,” Yoongi’s deep voice echoed. 

Sighing, Taehyung zipped up the bag, slinging the garments over his shoulder and gestured you out the door as you grabbed your makeup bag. You were welcomed with a gummy grin from Yoongi who had a bag slung over his shoulder as well and Mortdecai who had his hitman carrying both their suits. 

“Ah, so she’s coming?” Mortdecai chimed, sending you a smile. 

Giving a quick nod, you all followed Mortdecai down to the lobby, Yoongi hanging both garment bags in the car neatly before following Mortdecai to Simmons mansion. The car ride was filled with conversation of tactics, what Yoongi should do, how Yoongi and Mortdecai should sneak in but the plans were going in one ear and out the other as you watched the city fly by. You were never interested in going to the States. You found comfort in Seoul and never planned on leaving but you were thankful for all these travels. 

What you were most intrigued with was the beautiful mansion that you finally pulled up to. It looked like it came from a movie, your mouth was dropped completely open but the sound of Yoongi coughing brought you out your daze. Bringing the car to a stop, you all exited the car, the warm sun beating down on you and you immediately regret wearing an all-black outfit. 

“Ah,” Glancing up, you see a tall middle-aged man walking up, his teeth brighter than the sun itself, “if it isn’t Kim Taehyung and Charlie Mortdecai.” 

He brought his hand up to Taehyung who accepted it gingerly, giving the man a curt smile who quickly threw himself into Mortdecai’s arms, a loud laugh booming from his mouth. You found yourself scooting closer to Yoongi, his body radiating comfort to you. 

“So, lets cut to the chase, can I look at the painting?”

“Yes, you see—“ 

Before Charlie could answer, Simmons jerked open Yoongi’s door, shoving his body in there and brought a knife up to the ceiling. 

“Wait!” Taehyung yelled.

Ignoring his comment, Simmons cut the fabric up and a rolled-up painting fell, everyone’s mouth wide open. Tucking the painting under his arms, Simmons shot everyone a bright smile, shutting the door behind him as he yelled a follow me. Taehyung glanced back at you and Yoongi, his jaw clenching. 

“I guess we did have the fucking painting after all,” He mumbled to Yoongi.

The interior of the mansion was nothing compared to the exterior. His home was decorated in marble, his walls filled with paintings and what made the moment cute was how Taehyung would slow down to catch a glance at a piece, his tongue skimming over his lip if he found one more interesting than the other. Once this case was done, you were sure that your knowledge of paintings would be far more vast than it once was. 

As you slowly filed in behind the rest of the group, Simmons already had the painting rolled out on the table and to your completely utter shock, the Grande Odalisque was laid out on the table in all its glory. Your mouth fell in awe, the painting just as beautiful but your throat clenched at the thought of poor Miss Choi. 

“Sorry to be rude,” Simmons beamed, his body leaning against the table, 

“I didn’t get to catch her name,” 

All eyes fell on you, your cheeks flushing at all the attention but you quickly fixed your posture, “Hi,” You smiled back, “I’m De—“

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung cut you off, his grip around your wrist tightening, “I thought I’d bring her to the reveal party.” 

You glared up at him but sent Simmons a curt smile, “Hi, I’m Don Simmons…”

“_____,” You answer.

“Ah, ____. Beautiful name and a beautiful girl, Taehyung, good job.” 

His attention went back to the painting but the feeling of your phone vibrating allowed you to excuse yourself, Jimin’s name flashing across the screen.

“Ah,” You moaned in happiness, “Jimine,” You cooed, “How are you?”

“I’m good but guess what I found out while you were gone!!” Excitement laced in his voice. 

“What is it?” You mumbled, glancing back into the room to see all men bending over the table studying the painting. 

“You remember that note that Taehyung found? The ‘love your bug’ note?” 

“Mm,”

“I figured out who bug was,”

“And who is it?” You whispered,

“It was her lover. An older gentleman by the name Kim Myung-Dae. He was an underground dealer like Taehyung and he normally sent his paintings over to Miss Choi to clean and low and behold he has the original Grande Odalisque, the one with the secret code on the back.” 

Your mouth dropped. Your heart began racing and all you wanted to do was drag Taehyung up the stairs but you had to keep your composure or the plan tonight wouldn’t work. 

“Are you sure its the right one?” You scooted a bit further from the room, “The man we’re seeing now has the Grande Odalisque displayed across his table right now,” 

“Yes, I’m sure, ____. When you come back to Seoul, have Taehyung come to the office and check to make sure because I know there is an art auction the week you come back.”

Taehyung doesn’t know but you have been relaying the plans back to Jimin. You felt more comfortable knowing that if anything was to screw up, Jimin would have a backup plan ready for you at any second. 

“I’ll talk to Taehyung tonight but I’ve got to go, Jimin, good work!” 

“Talk to you later,”

Ending the call, you made your way back to the room just in time. Simmons was rolling up the painting, tucking the replica under his arm. Wrapping your hand around Taehyung’s wrist, you tug gently, catching his attention.

“I need to speak with you and Yoongi alone,” You whispered.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Taehyung sent you a quick nod, asking Don where your rooms were. Giving Taehyung a bright smile, Don had one of his butlers lead you three up the stairs, another followed behind with your wardrobe for tonight and your makeup bag dangling from his pinkie. Your mind was racing with the information Jimin gave you. If he was right, the painting that Simmons took was the replica and the real Grande Odalisque was safe in Seoul with Kim Myung-Dae or at least you hoped so.

“Why are you pale as hell?” Yoongi chuckled, crossing his arms as Taehyung locked the door.

You shot a glare at him, “Because I found out the information I wasn’t ready for, dumbass.”

Taehyung chuckled, “What information did you find out?”

You gently rubbed your temples and recited what Jimin told you. Taehyung’s eyebrows were furrowed and so were Yoongi’s. Hell, you would be shocked as hell and confused if you just find this out as well which you were but at this point you were confused.

“So they didn’t have children?”

“Seriously,” You groaned, “That’s all you got from what I just told you?” You rolled your eyes at Taehyung who only shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyways,” Yoongi grumbled, “The painting that Don has is the replica of the real Grande Odalisque?”

“That’s what we’re hoping.” You mumble.

“Either way we’re going back to Seoul with that painting,” Taehyung grumbled, rubbing his temples at the information that was just given.

“I want to know why you think it’s going to be so easy confiscating that painting,”

Taehyung sighed, “It won’t be easy but we have the plan set out for tonight,”

“And what’s that?”

“Yoongi, Jock, and Mortdecai will sneak in and take the painting while you and I are down at the party showing our face and keep what they’re doing secret.”

“Is it safe with all of us separated like that?”

“No,” Yoongi mumbled, “but tonight is our only option to get that painting back into our hands.”

“I don’t understand why in the hell we stepped foot into America. That painting was dangling above your heads and you had no idea,”

“I didn’t know that Jungkook hid the piece in my car!” Taehyung defended.

“This whole trip was a waste of my fucking time,” You mumbled. You wanted to pull your hair out. You don’t know how you all sat so dumb like in that car with the fucking Odalisque hanging above your heads. This whole trip was stupid and honestly, you didn’t have it in you to attend this party but since Taehyung introduced you as his girlfriend, you had no excuse to not go.

“I wanna know how Jungkook got ahold of that piece,” Taehyung mumbled, his gaze falling onto Yoongi who could only shake his head.

“I wanna know who killed poor Miss Choi over this painting,” You whispered mainly to yourself.

This question still lingered over your head. This whole trip surrounded the painting but you couldn’t get too upset, this painting was a key to her murder. There must be a shitload of money in this account for someone to kill an innocent woman and if Kim Myung-Dae had enough trust in her with that painting then he wasn’t expecting anyone to be snooping around for that particular piece.

You kept to yourself, minding your business as Taehyung discussed the plan once again with the crew. They all left you in the dark as you put on your makeup besides the part where you would be tucked underneath Taehyung’s arm with an earpiece stuck in your ear. You weren’t mad at any of them but you were merely dumbfounded. You never understood why Mortdecai sold this piece to this foreigner and you never understood why Taehyung trusted him but he’s putting all his trust into this man, allowing his own hitman to sneak in and steal this fake painting back. 

None of this made sense and for some reason, you had a bad feeling about this. Ever since you joined the detective field, anytime you had a shooting going down or someone gets murdered, you always itched behind your left ear and right now, your ear is burning. All you could hope is that everyone was safe… including Taehyung. 

The soft feeling of hands laying across your shoulder brought you from your thoughts. Your eyes trailed up the figure through the mirror, landing on Taehyung who only stared back, a soft smile settling on his face. 

“You look beautiful,” He mumbled leaning down and placing a sweet chaste kiss to your cheek. 

You only smiled back, pushing yourself off the seat and lacing your feet in your heels. Wrapping your arm around Taehyung’s, you both head out the room, music filling the hallways. Everyone else done made their way down, checking the area. On the outside you were stone-cold, smiling at people who sent you one but on the inside, your heart was thumping faster than it should. You should be used to this you tell yourself over and over as Taehyung weaved you through the crowd. 

“Coast is clear,” Yoongi grumbled, your body jumping at the sudden sound. 

“Alright,” Taehyung answered back, his eyes falling on you as if he was speaking directly to you. 

Your eyes skimmed the crowd but they immediately fall upon a man whose eyes were already laying on you. Cocking your head to the side, you raise an eyebrow at him, the man sending you a curt smile before walking away. You felt yourself tighten your grip around Taehyung’s arm, his head jerking down looking at you. 

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled, placing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Before you could answer, a couple walked up to Taehyung, their smiles bright as they stared at your date. 

“Well if it isn’t Kim Taehyung,” The male mused, his tongue poking his cheek, “I haven’t seen you since your last shitty sale,” 

Taehyung smirked, “How’re you, Mr. Rossi?” 

The two bickered back and forth. You quickly tuned them out but as you glanced around the party once more, your eyes laid upon that same man again who was still staring back at you. Tightening your grasp once again, you tug Taehyung’s arm. Saying his goodbye’s Taehyung glanced down at you but the feeling of his body tensing, you had no need to tell him.

“Oh fuck,” He mumbled, “Yoongi, that man is here, he’s at the party.” 

Taehyung hissed, removing his arm from yours before wrapping it around your waist. 

“Who is he?” You asked, glancing back at the man who only followed you both. 

At this point, he wasn’t trying to be discrete. He was following your every step, your heart racing. Leading you around the back, Taehyung pushes you both into a corner, the man quickly walking past you two. 

“Who is that?” You hissed, your chest heaving.

“That was the fucker I told you about,” He whispered back.

“We’re in.” 

The brisk moment of you and Taehyung huddling in the corner away from that mysterious man ended as the sound of Yoongi yelling in your ear caught you off guard. Taehyung’s hand grasped your arm as he jerked you, shoving the large glass door open as he tugged you in the mansion. His breath was ragged, his eyes frantic as they searched around, landing on the spiral staircase that took you up to the room you were once getting ready in. Mumbling a come on, Taehyung jerked you up the stairs, the sound of yelling filling your ears as you near the top. 

“Yoongi!” Taehyung yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway.

A loud thud echoed down the hall, Taehyung’s head jerked towards the noise, his feet immediately walking and your arm let loose from his grip. You should be nervous but the way Taehyung’s hand gripped around his gun, bringing the cool metal up to balance in his other hand made heat pool and sadly, you should be ashamed but you’re not. 

You followed his figure in a room, Mortdecai, Yoongi, and Jock all stood around a desk and the mysterious man stood on the other side, a gun steady in his hands as he pointed it back. Glancing over, you noticed Don slumped over his desk, blood dripping from his fingers and the Odalisque settled underneath his head. Turning your attention back over to the man, Taehyung’s finger twitched, the pad resting against the trigger. 

“Who are you?” Taehyung seethed, stepping closer. 

The man chuckled, “Why does it matter to you? All I want is the painting, so please, give me the painting.”

“Tell me your name,” His deep voice echoed throughout the room, your body tensing at the sound. 

“Ademar Boucher,” He finally answered, “Now give me the painting,”

“Why would I give you the painting, hm?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, taking another step closer to the man, “You killed an innocent boy -my car guy for a matter-of-fact- you tried killing me and my man over here, and now you are stalking not only me but my date,” His grip around the gun fixed, his knuckles white at the amount of pressure, “Now tell me, why should I give you the painting?”

The man charged forward but Taehyung was quick to shoot, his bullet grazing into the man's arm. Your mouth dropped but you quickly jerked on 

Taehyung’s arm, his face scowling at you. 

“We need him alive,” You yelled, “He’s a possible suspect!” 

Before Taehyung could answer back, the man had stood up and escaped, his body jumping over the ledge and the painting still settled under the late Don’s head. Taehyung shrugged your grip off, his shoulders rolling back as he walked over, shoving Don’s head off the painting before rolling it up quickly. 

“We need to get out here,” He mumbled, “People will start to notice,”

Bumping his shoulder on yours, Taehyung exited the room, the rest of the men filing behind him. Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where Ademar escaped, the wind slowly pushing your hair as you saw him running off in the distance, his head jerking back to make sure any of you were chasing after him. Taehyung wouldn’t understand. He had a killers' state of mind when it came to this stuff but if Jimin’s accusations were correct, Ademar is a suspect. Not only for Miss Choi’s sake but for the sake of Taehyung’s car guy — Jeon Jungkook.

Walking back into the hallway, Taehyung had your bag in his hand, the Odalisque under his arm and both your outfits dangling over his shoulder. If you weren’t so agitated with him, you would find the gesture cute but killing the man would only make matters worse. You were still on this case, still trying to find the murderer of Miss Choi and if you could pick up any lead, you were going to take every chance you get. 

The car ride back was silent, Taehyung not speaking a word. Mortdecai done said his farewells, claiming that he had some business back in London to worry about. Your farewells were bittersweet, loving every moment you spent with the man but here you were, stuck with one who could bite your head off because you wouldn’t allow him to kill someone. 

The clicking sound of the door shutting made your skin crawl. Your body was tense, the atmosphere thick and all you could do was swallow the thick lump in your throat as Taehyung’s front brushed against your back, dropping your makeup bag in your suitcase. Your hands involuntarily clenched at your side, your jaw clenching before you turned around, Taehyung already staring back at you. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” You hissed, kicking your shoes off but never breaking eye contact. 

“I don’t have one,” His tone was too calm and this made you even hotter. 

“Bull fucking shit,” You yelled, “You’ve been sulking since I stopped you from killing Ademar—“

“Yeah because that was an easy fucking kill, ____!”

“Taehyung I have to have that man alive! He is a suspect for the killing of Miss Choi and he also killed your friend, so I have to keep him alive until I am one hundred percent positive that he killed her,”

“How is he a suspect?” After laying both your clothes down, Taehyung kicked his shoes off, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, ridding himself of his belt before he sat on your bed, leaning back on his palms. 

“Is it not suspicious that he’s so determined to get that Odalisque? I’m sure he knows about the account numbers,”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Then why else would he be so adamant about stealing the piece?”

He only hummed, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he processed what you said. He couldn’t be mad at you because he knows your reasoning is true and he truly wanted justice for Jungkook. It still breaks his heart to this day but its something he faces all the time—death.

You could only let out a soft sigh as you reached behind your back to unzip your dress, dreading to take this beautiful piece off. Although the night went somewhat planned, you couldn’t lie and say that Taehyung didn’t look hot as hell in his suit, the buttons nearly popping with his chest being so broad. The simple thought made heat pool below, your thighs clenching at the thought.

“I didn’t get to tell you tonight but you looked gorgeous,”

“Thank you,” You mumbled, turning around to give him a soft smile.

Chuckling, Taehyung pushed himself off the bed, wrapping his arms around you before peppering your shoulders with soft kisses, goosebumps erupting across your body. His hands slowly made their way to your hips, gripping the spot gently, sinking his teeth into your skin as he brought your backside to his front, his erection pressing against your ass, the feeling making you blush.

“Are we really about to do this?” You giggle, turning around in his grasp. His eyes fell onto you, “It’ll have to be quick,” He mumbled, “We have an early plane to catch.”

Nodding your head, you gently grab Taehyung’s face before pulling him down into a kiss, your lips molding together as they perfectly moved in sync. You will never get over this; his lips, his smell, his body, Taehyung. His fingers found their way to your back, unzipping your dress and pulling the fabric down, his warm hands pressing against the smooth skin of your back. You were nearly bare and this made Taehyung growl. Pulling back, Taehyung gripped your hips before spinning you around, backing you up until your legs hit the back of the bed, your body falling flat.

“Scoot up,” He demanded, unbuttoning his pants.

Nodding your head, you scooted your way up to the top and watched as he jerked both his pants and underwear down, his dick smacking against his stomach, the tip an angry red. You licked your lips, wanting to suck the living soul out of him but once again, he gave you a tsk before pushing you back, your body conforming to the mattress as he hung his body above you, his gold chain sparkling in the under the dim light.

Slowly, his hands danced their way down your body, curling around the band of your underwear before jerking them down, the cool air making your thighs clamp shut. It was embarrassing how wet you were but at this point, your worries were out the door and all you cared about was the gorgeous man above you.

The feeling of his hands gripping your thighs brought you out your trance, your breath stopping in your throat as he jerked your thighs apart, the feeling of your lips pulling apart made you squirm.

“Fuck,” He huskily growled, “Already drenched and I haven’t done anything,”

He lowly chuckled, dropping his body to the bed before licking a wide stripe up your cunt, your body arching at the feeling. You could never get over this, the feeling of his tongue pressed against you, his hands roaming your body and most importantly, the way his eyes never left yours as he ate you out viscously. Swirling his tongue around your clit, his middle finger pressed into you, the feeling still foreign but the stretch made you moan, pleasure rolling over your body as he thrust back and forth. Adding another finger, Taehyung began sucking your nub, moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. All you could do was wrap your fingers in his hair and clench your thighs around his head. If he was honest, he wouldn’t mind dying between your legs.

He slowly sucked on your sensitive nub, the feeling making you see sparks, the feeling indescribable and once he added another finger, the stretch burning but pleasuring all at the same time, you felt the familiar burning coil grow in your stomach and all you could do was let out a whimper and grip his hair, tugging on the poor locks. A moan fell between his lips, vibrating against your skin and that caused you to snap, your back arching, all you could see was black.

Getting you through your high, Taehyung pulled back, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, licking the juices off his fingers, never breaking eye contact with you. This made you throb once more, the obscene sight before you making you flush.

“You taste so fucking good,” He whispered, reaching over you to grab a condom, your hands coming up to lightly trace his chest.

“Hurry,” You mumbled, tracing his neck with your thumb.

Letting out a growl, Taehyung slipped the rest of his condom on before jerking your leg over his shoulder, his hand gripping your thigh and his other gripping his dick, rubbing it up and down your slit, coating the tip with your juices. His chest rose up and down slowly, his eyes focused on the way your juices glistened on his dick but that was soon over when you clenched over nothing, his body halting, his grip on your thigh tightening and in one quick motion, he bottomed out. A silent scream passed your mouth, your lips pouting at the feeling of being full. He was thick, almost too thick. It took everything in him not to cum on the spot, the way your walls clenched around him from the sudden intrusion felt too good, soft grunts passing his lips. Your fingernails dug into his skin, your chest heaving up.

“M-Move,” You grunted, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Pulling back, Taehyung’s tip settled against your opening before he thrust, his hips smacking against your clit making you arch your back once more. With a couple of hard thrusts, Taehyung finally set a pace, his body hovering over yours as he left sloppy kisses across your neck, sucking, biting down and any part of your skin that he could. After only having sex with you once, Taehyung remembered exactly where your spot was at, hitting the sensitive area with ease, causing you to see stars with every brush of his tip. With your feet digging into his ass, your hands clawed up his back and into his hair, the obscene sounds of your juices squelching with every thrust made your body tingle.

“Y-You’re so fucking tight,” He grunted in your ear, his breath hot against the skin.

Pushing his face back, you brought his face down to yours, pressing your lips together. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his tongue roam your mouth, tangling with your own. The sound of moans falling from Taehyung’s lips was swallowed by you and these sounds were like music to your ear. Pulling back, a string of saliva followed as he sat back on his feet, his eyes falling down to where you two connected, “Turn over,” He grunted, pulling his length out.

Sighing at the lost, you turn around onto your stomach wiggling your ass. A low, deep chuckle passed his lips before he roughly gripped your hips, ramming his dick back into your sopping hole, setting a brutal pace. The sound of your skin smacking together filled the room and all you could think about was how his dick was hitting your g-spot better in this position.

“I-I’m close,” You moaned, clenching the bed sheets between your fingers.

“Same,” He grunted, rolling his hips into yours.

His hand left your hip, bringing his thumb up to his tongue, swiping the pad before pressing it against your clit, rubbing quick, curt circles. The action made your body twitch and with two final thrusts, Taehyung had you falling apart on his dick, your walls clenching around his length.

“Ah, ah, fuck,” You hissed, your body falling limp but Taehyung was quick to catch you.

Taehyung rode out your high and his own hips began lagging. We a few final thrusts, Taehyung pressed his cock in you, his grip around your hips tight as he panted, his dick twitching with every spurt of his cum. Hovering over your shoulders, Taehyung pressed gentle kisses, his heavy pants fanning your back before he fell over, his hand coming down to his dick and taking off the condom, tossing the used rubber in the bin.

“That was amazing,” You mumbled, tracing circles on his chest.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Taehyung threw his legs over the bed and made his way to the bathroom, bringing a wet washcloth back before cleaning you up, sliding new underwear on and tossed one of his shirts over to you. Gaining enough energy to sit up, you pull the large fabric over your body and fell limp into the bed once again, making Taehyung laugh.

“Let’s get some sleep,” He yawned falling down beside you, pulling you into his body before draping the covers over your bodies.

“Good night,”

You shut the car door behind you, your black shades covering your eyes from the bright sun, your all-black outfit soaking in the warm rays. Sadly, Kim Myung-Dae passed of old age before you came back. You, Jimin, and Taehyung all stood outside his home, people crying, sniffling and all you could think about was the grand prize that was stored inside his home. 

“Where is the piece?” Taehyung mumbled, nodding his head at an elderly woman who patted her eyes gently. 

“When you guys were off having a grand time in America, I came and talked to him myself—“

“what?!” You and Taehyung quipped at the same time, your mouth falling open with shock at Jimin. 

“How’re you, Mr. Kim,” Jimin smiled, shaking the old man’s hand.

“Ah, I’m good,” He coughed, gesturing for Jimin to sit down.

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss…about Miss Choi that is,” 

Myung-Dae sighed, “She was my bug but bless her, what a terrible way to die,”

Jimin nodded his head, his eyes scanning the room, “Is there anything you have to remember her by?”

The old man nodded, pushing himself off the couch before scooting himself over to a door, disappearing before coming back with a painting. Turning around, Jimin’s heart dropped, his mouth going dry. The Grande Odalisque was hanging—barely—in his nimble fingers. Jimin wanted to jump in joy, to snap a picture of what was being shown in front of him to you but he coughed gently, nodding at the poor man who placed the picture back in the room. 

“This painting has been in my family for years and I’ve always trusted Miss Choi to clean it,”

“Of course,” Jimin smiled, “I must be on my way. If you need anything, please let me know,”

Giving Jimin a tight hug, Myung-Dae sent Jimin off, settling himself back on the couch. Jimin tried his hardest to contain his excitement, biting his tongue, cheek, anything he could because right there in this man's house is the piece that everyone was looking for.

“Wow,” You hummed, “So you know where the painting is at?” 

Nodding his head, you all went inside and stopped by his open casket, the sight making you grimace but soon Jimin led you to the room. Jimin pointed at the door in the corner, letting you know that that was the room before guarding the entry. Taehyung was quick to jog over there, his hand pushing the door open. With his mouth wide open, Taehyung’s eyes grazed over the number of paintings that were hanging in this secret room; however, one picture, in particular, stuck out to him. Wrapping his fingers around the small photo, his heart sunk at the sight of Jungkook wrapped in the arms of Myung-Dae. 

“What is it?” You whispered, eyes stopping on the man whose shoulders were slumped. 

“Kim Myung-Dae was Jungkook’s grandfather,”

You took the photo from Taehyung, your eyes settling on the two who were smiling brightly, the love of a grandson and grandfather evident through this photo. You gently placed the picture down and looked back at Taehyung whose eyes were still on the photo. 

“Taehyung,” You whispered, hands settling on his cheek, “You couldn’t stop it.”

“I know,” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing what you came here for, the Grande Odalisque. 

Rolling the painting up and sneaking out through the back, Taehyung takes you and Jimin back to his place. Rolling the painting out, Taehyung flipped the piece around, a low fuck passing his lips. The back of the painting was blank, with no set of numbers or anything to clarify that this was the original piece. You felt your head throb and you felt the urge to smack Jimin multiple times on the back of the head but the quick movement of Taehyung pulling stuff from a cabinet made you stop from whacking the poor boy. 

“They’re smart,” He mused, setting his equipment down. 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you watched as Taehyung poured a mysterious liquid on the back, telling Jimin to shut the lights off before switching on his blacklight. Your body filled with relief, there was the numbers you all had been searching for, safe and on the back of the original piece. You wanted to scream with delight and kiss Jimin on the cheek. Taehyung let out a relieved sigh, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You’re so fucking smart, Jimin,” He praised, patting the man on the back who only stood with his chest puffed out, pride settling through his veins. 

Rolling the painting back up, Taehyung tucked it away in a safe. Praising Jimin once more, Taehyung sent you two off, saying that he had some business to do and with that, you and Jimin headed back to the office, your mind flourishing with excitement but you still had a murder to figure out. 

Walking through the halls, Jimin continued to ramble in your ear, praising not only himself but you and Taehyung for the handwork you did—even though you left him back in Seoul which he is still salty about. Seokjin’s office came into view and with one knock, you pushed yourself in, Seokjin’s face shocked by your surprise. 

“Well, you were almost gone for a month, got any leads?”

Sitting down, you let out a soft sigh, “A lot happened over this investigation but I’m pretty sure I know who killed Miss Choi.”

His ears perked up, “And who might that be?” He quipped, lacing his fingers together as he sat up straighter. 

“Ademar Boucher. A French man whose been harassing not only Kim Taehyung but others around him and killing people in his hunt for this painting. I know for a fact he killed a car service guy by the name Jeon Jungkook, killed an American man named Don Simmons, and tried killing not only Taehyung, but me, Taehyung’s bodyguard Yoongi, and two other foreigners who helped us on this investigation.”

He nodded his head, “When do you think he will hit next?”

“Glad you asked,” You smiled, “I have a hunch he will show up at the Art Gallery Auction event this Saturday. I need backup there, Seokjin, there’s no telling what he’ll do,”

“Of course,” He nodded his head, “I will have Jimin and Hoseok to be there as well as your own personal backup,”

After the meeting, you invited Jimin to go get coffee with you, which he eagerly agreed. Taking him to your favorite spot, you both found comfort in a secluded corner, the sun setting which radiated off of Jimin’s skin beautifully. 

“So,” He started, taking a sip of his coffee, “how was it like spending almost a month with the notorious Kim Taehyung?” His eyebrow arched, a smirk evident behind his lid. 

You rolled your eyes, “I mean, we worked and he showed me around the cities that we stayed in and—“

“And fucked?”

You choked on your coffee, a few drops hitting the table as you hit your chest, “Jimin—“

“It’s pretty obvious that you guys fucked,” He shrugged his shoulders, 

“You’ve had this glow ever since you came back,”

“Glow?”

“Yeah,” He mused, “You seem more relaxed, your shoulders aren’t as tense, and the way you both talked to each other, looked at each other, and the sexual tension was way too obvious,”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your coffee, quickly wiping at the mess on the table with your sleeve. You didn’t think it was that obvious or the fact that you were “glowing”. Now that he mentioned, you did find yourself not as stressed, the weight of the world not evident on your shoulder as you hung around him. It felt nice not having to protect yourself, to be overly aware of your surroundings, the feeling of Taehyung being there made you calm. If you were honest, he felt like your own personal bodyguard. He made you feel warm and giddy inside but you wouldn’t tell Jimin that because he would dangle that in your face and never let it up. 

“Fine, we had sex…” You staggered.

“Had sex…”

“Two times,” You said in more of a question. 

Jimin’s mouth dropped, his hand coming to cover his mouth as he giggled quietly into his sleeve. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, looking around embarrassed, hoping no one heard your confession even though none of them know of Kim Taehyung. 

“Wow,” His grin was stupid, “two times, huh? No wonder you have a glow. His semen must be a wonderful moisturizer.” 

Your cheeks immediately flushed and you abruptly stood up, reaching across to land a loud smack on the back of his head. His laugh echoed throughout the cafe, earning some looks from strangers and all you could do was sulk in your embarrassment as he happily giggled. You were ready to kick his shin under the table but your phone vibrated your leg, your heart fluttering at the name that popped up. 

From: Tae

 Come over, yeah? I miss you :(

Your cheeks flushed and with one final glare at Jimin, you threw your head back, downing the rest of your drink.

“I’m leaving,”

“Oh, was that Mr. Right?”

You let out an annoyed sigh before scooting your chair under and a frantic Jimin scrambling around to catch up with you. Bumping his shoulder with yours, Jimin paused outside the cafe before looking at you.

“I’m happy for you,”

You glanced up, “Thanks, Jiminie,”

With a quick side hug, you both parted ways. You pulled your phone back and sent Taehyung a quick message, putting your car into drive.

The ride there was quick, your foot on the pedal as you thought about all the things that could happen once you were there. Your body ached for him, your pussy even did and that makes you truly realize that you were hooked on this man. Just thinking about the evenings where he fucked you relentlessly made your toes curl and your cheeks flushed.

Thankfully, your car was parked in front of his house in a quick ten minutes. Your heels echoed as you entered the mansion, your eyes traveling to where you saw the familiar black hair. His back was facing you and all you could think about was running your fingers through his hair.

“Hi,” You mused giddily, sitting down in front of Taehyung.

His eyes fell onto you, his black hair falling barely above his eyelashes, his skin dewier than normal—fucking beautiful. Your thighs clenched at the sight of him and all you wanted to do was jump in his lap and ride him until you couldn’t cum anymore. The thought made your mouth water.

“How have you been?” He quizzed, cocking his head to the side.

“Tired but great,” You smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear.

He smirked, “I’ve missed you dearly—“

“I was just here earlier this morning,” You laughed.

“I know but we were just with each other every day,”

You nodded your head, eyes falling to the floor at the feeling of his gaze burning into you. Your fingers gently played with each other as the tension grew thicker. It was embarrassing how many times you two have already fucked. It was only two times but still, it seems like a lot but it's like you two cannot get enough of each other.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You asked, dying to break the tension.

He sighed, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He sent you a curt smile before pouring himself some more wine.

“What’re you going to do with the painting, the real one that is?”

“I’m going to keep it here and place the fake on in the auction, make money off of it.”

“Will the other art dealers know that its fake?”

He smirked, “That’s the fun part, they never know until they’ve bought the painting.”

You lightly laughed, “I see,”

You both sat in silence, both of you want the same thing but both too scared to mention it. The question was on the tip of your tongue but the lump in your throat was your excuse for not verbalizing the simple question: ‘Hey, wanna fuck?’.

“Come with me,”

You jumped at the sudden command but agreed when he reached his hand out, wiggling his long fingers. Lacing your hand with his, you follow him up the stairway, awing at the paintings that decorated the walls. He always had a beautiful home but you never got to see the rest of it, only meeting in his lounge room or his study. His hand gave yours a soft squeeze before he pushed open a door, a large king-sized bed coming into view. Your heart fluttered, your mind already knowing what was going to happen. Sighing softly, you look around, his room being just as beautiful as the rest of his home. Paintings decorated his walls and one picture in particular stuck out to you—a picture of him and his parents, two smaller children hanging around them. You awed at the picture, looking up at Taehyung who was already glancing back at you.

“Who are they?” You whispered, eyes falling back on the picture.

“My parents and my two younger siblings,”

“They’re beautiful,” You smile.

“Thank you,” He smirked, “I haven’t seen them since I chose this lifestyle but I always send them money,”

Your heart awed at that. He was too precious and you were thankful you were seeing this side of him. This whole time all you’ve known was the businessman Taehyung, the killer Taehyung but now, as you both stand in his room, you’re seeing his vulnerable side. You wanted to stay in this moment together but the feeling of his hands wrapping around your waist and his lips leaving soft kisses amongst your neck, you knew this precious moment was coming to an end.

Lulling your head to the side, you reach back and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Taehyung kissed harder, his lips sucking on one particular spot that made a moan slip through your lips, his dick twitching at the sound. Satisfied at your reaction, Taehyung licked the spot, awing at the mark that he left, the mark that would tell people that he fucked you, that you were his, it made his heart flutter.

Turning you around, Taehyung stared down at you, your eyes fluttering shut, missing the touch of his lips against your neck. Pushing you back, your body fell on the bed, your hair flaring out. Taehyung was quick to take a mental picture, your body laid out against his comforter, ready for him to take.

“What do you want from me?” He quizzed, unbuckling his belt before ripping it through his loops, the sound making your hole clench around nothing.

Taehyung squatted down and grabbed your legs, kissing the bare skin as his hands began undoing your heels. The simple gesture was sweet, making your heart flutter but the way his eyes screamed sex, you couldn’t focus on the cute gesture anymore. Tossing your shoes behind him, Taehyung dropped to his knees, his lips lightly grazing your skin before pressing wet, sloppy kisses on the inside of your thighs. He already pushed your dress up, the fabric bundled around your waist and all that came between him and your sweet nectar was the lace panties that were taunting him.

“What a slutty color,” He hummed, pulling at the band before letting go, the sound echoing through the room, “You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, your mind too fogged with euphoria; however, the low growl that rumbled throughout his chest made you whimper.

“Answer me,” He seethed, landing a loud smack to the inside of your thigh.

“Y-Yes!” You squealed, jerking your legs up.

Chuckling darkly, Taehyung left a chaste kiss against the growing red spot. Your chest heaved up and down, your eyes trickling with tears of pleasure. Taehyung was never this rough, holding back multiple times but now you were in his territory, his home, he was able to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Sweet girl,” He hummed, bringing his index finger down to your underwear, tracing the spot where your clit would be, barely touching the fabric, “already so needy for my cock.”

As if he read your mind, his face came closer to your core, his tongue flattening against the lace underwear, licking a thick stripe up to your clit, the feeling just as wonderful as before. A loud whimper passed your lips, your hands coming down to press his face closer to your core but he tsked, pinning your hands down to the bed.

“Do I need to tie you up, hmm? Pretty little girls like you don’t deserve to pull my hair. You have to earn it, yeah?”

“Y-Yes,”

“Yes, what?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Yes sir?”

He growled and next thing you know, your underwear was being ripped off you and his face deep inside your heat. A loud moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping at the covers. His tongue wasted no time in delving inside your hole, licking your walls as his hands held your hips down, making sure you couldn’t budge. This feeling was indescribable, the feeling of him finally being rough with you making your mind swirl. Your knuckles were white, your grip tightening the more and more his tongue sank deeper.

Taehyung finally pulled back, your juices following his chin, the sight filthy in itself. Satisfied with your reaction, Taehyung leaned down and placed a tender kiss to your bundle of nerves making your body jerk at the touch. Bringing his hand down, Taehyung palmed at the growing erection, a soft whimper, one that you couldn’t hear, tumbled out of his throat.

“You taste so fucking good,” He moaned, pushing himself off the floor, his gaze falling on your already fucked out figure.

Fluttering your eyes open, you pout at the man who stared back at you, your juices glistening on his chin. The sight made you awe but you were quick to shut your mouth when Taehyung leaned down, smashing his lips against yours. Moaning, you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling, tugging at the thick locks causing Taehyung to let out a set of moans. Biting down on your lower lip, Taehyung’s hazily gazed back at you before roughly thrusting his clothed erection against your sopping wet cunt, a smirk pulling at his lips at the sudden arch of your back.

“Want Daddy to fill you up? To fill your sopping wet cunt with my thick cock, hm?” He cocked his head to the side, bringing his finger up to your jaw tracing the bone, “Make my pretty little slut cry?”

All you could do was nod your head but the way his jaw clenched made you whimper out a quiet ‘yes Daddy’. A satisfied smirk fell onto his lips before he pushed himself back up, undoing his shirt. You quickly sat up and rid yourself of your clothes, completely bare underneath him as he took his sweet time taking his pants off, his bulge sticking out in his underwear, your mouth watering at the sight.

“I think Daddy is gonna let you suck him off tonight. Does that sound good?”

You licked your lips and nodded your head furiously. You had been waiting so long to finally feel his huge dick settled in your mouth. You wanted to feel how heavy it was and good he tasted and now, that you were fixing to find out, your mouth drooled at the thought.

Rolling yourself onto your knees, you crouch, making yourself look like an obedient dog as you waited for him to let himself free, his underwear barely keeping it tucked in. Smirking at you, Taehyung slowly pulled his underwear down, his length springing free and smacking against his toned stomach, precum smearing on his skin.

“What’re you waiting for, kitten?”

That was all you needed before your hand wrapped around his length. You awed at how pretty his dick was. Veins prominent all around and soon enough, your tongue licked up the underside of his dick, your cunt clenching at the sight of him throwing his head back. Taehyung moaned at the way your mouth felt around his cock and what matters worse were the small kitten licks you gave to his slit, your tongue nudging at the small opening.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a filthy mouth, princess,” Taehyung carded his fingers through your hair before gripping the strands, shoving your mouth down onto his length, “but I don’t have time for you to tease,”

Taehyung took control over your head, bobbing your head up and down, his length heavy on your tongue as his tip nudged at the back of your throat. Your hands came up to clench the back of his thighs, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his smooth skin. Pushing your head back with a loud pop, a string of saliva stayed connected with your lips until you wiped the back of your mouth, panting as Taehyung sent you one of his signature smirks.

“How about I fuck your mouth, yeah?”

Before you could answer, Taehyung’s hands found their way to your head, gripping the sides before shoving his cock in your already opened mouth. His thrusts were short and his balls slapped against your chin as he fucked your filthy mouth.

Taehyung pulled his head to the side, “You take daddy’s cock so good. Only sluts take a big cock like this so well,”

Your pussy clenched at the praise but to make him feel better, you let out a loud moan, the noise vibrating around his length making his hips stutter. Sighing, Taehyung pulled his cock at slowly, wiping your chin with his thumb.

“If I keep going you’ll make me cum,” He chuckled, reaching back to land a quick tap on your ass, “lay on your back.”

You found yourself nestled against his pillows and your thighs squeezed shut as his eyes fell upon your body, taking in every single detail about you. His dick twitched at the sight and Taehyung settled above you, his chain swinging back and forth on his neck, this being a newfound kink. Your fingers came up to wrap around the chain, gently tugging him down.

Laughing lightly, Taehyung pressed his lips against yours, your lips perfectly molding together as you both fought for dominance. Brushing his tongue against your bottom lip, Taehyung shoved the muscle inside, both tongues tangling together as your teeth clashed against his other. Spit slowly fell down the side of your mouth and you weren’t ashamed.

Taehyung’s palms slowly felt around your body before finding your pebbled nub, twisting the sensitive nerves, making your back arch. His other hand came up to your other breasts, squeezing, pinching the soft mounds. A soft sigh passed your lips, the sound making Taehyung’s dick twitch.

Releasing your lips with a loud pop, Taehyung moved his mouth down to your right breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipple, his other hand pinching and rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the feeling almost being too much but Taehyung was quick to switch to your other breast before leaving a sweet tender kiss to the mound he just harassed. 

Taehyung spent his time toying with your smooth mounds but he pulled back with a loud smack, leaving another sweet kiss to the reddening skin before pressing a trail of kisses down your body, his shoulders broad as he held himself up. His lips finally found their way to the top of your pussy, letting out a breathy laugh that sent goosebumps over your body. Pressing a tender kiss to the skin, Taehyung looked back up at you, his eyes filled with lust. 

“I’m going to make you feel good okay?” 

You nodded and soon enough Taehyung found himself face to face with your sopping core once again. You were still sticky from before but that didn’t stop him from sucking a hickey on your lip, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“T-Taehyung please,” You sighed, bringing your fingers up to your breast to toy with them.

“What princess?”

Your heart clenched at the name, “Please do something, I need you…Daddy,” 

Something in Taehyung clicked before his tongue was deep in your core and his nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. A silent scream passed your lips as your hands found perched in his hair, tugging at the locks once more. Pulling back, Taehyung quickly shoved his middle finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit before easing it slowly in you, your walls clenching around him making his dick twitch. A soft moan passed his lips at the feeling but he quickly pressed his lips to your nub, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, sucking, nibbling until panted moans were all that was heard. 

“You taste so sweet and it’s all mine,” He moaned, pressing a tender kiss to your nub before pressing another finger in, “Look at the way your pussy swallows my fingers, doesn’t want to let them go,”

Normally you would be embarrassed at the filth that was spewing from his mouth but the feeling of your orgasm building was all that you were worried about. 

“I’m close,” You sighed beautifully, the sound making Taehyung twitch his head.  

Slipping in another finger, Taehyung thrust his fingers in and out quickly, the squelch of your juices filling the room and finally, you snapped, throwing you back up and your thighs shaking from being pleasured. Taehyung rode out your high, slowly thrumming his fingers in and out, his lips sucking so softly around your clit but you were quick to swat his head away gently. Pulling back, Taehyung pulled his fingers out before shoving the three digits in his mouth, sucking the juices off before leaning down and shoving his tongue back inside you, licking, sucking all your juices up, the lewd sound causing another orgasm build up. 

Clenching your thighs, you press Taehyung’s head further into you, reaching down with your hand to furiously rub four fingers against your sensitive clit. Your orgasm snapped and relief washed over you. Falling limp, you panted as you calmed down but once you opened your eyes, you wish you hadn’t. Taehyung’s chin was dripping.

“Fuck,” He mewled, “You squirted all over me,” He whispered before diving back down, slurping up your juices. 

You softly whimpered and nudged his head away. Bringing his form back up to you, Taehyung pressed his lips down to you hard, your juices mixing in with your kiss. You sighed at the taste, gently rubbing the nape of his neck. His hands slowly rubbed your thigh and his dick gently pressed against your sopping wet cunt, the feeling making him want to combust but he held back, more focused on the way your lips meshed together. 

He pulled back, “That was so hot,” 

You blushed, bringing your hand up to cover your face but he quickly pushed it down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t hide, beautiful,” That only made you blush more. 

Taehyung sat back, his eyes falling to the wet spot that settled beneath your butt; this made him growl. Grabbing his length, Taehyung pressed his tip to your lips, rubbing the sensitive skin against your juices, his hip involuntarily thrusting forward, the feeling making him throw his head back. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the feeling making your hole clenched, making Taehyung’s head snapped up, his chest heaving up and down. 

“Are you on birth control?” He breathed, nudging himself in you slightly before pulling out, teasing you. 

“Yes, You breathed out, eyeing where you two connect. 

“Mm,”

Giving his dick one more quick pump, Taehyung gently pushed his tip in, sighing loudly at the feeling of your wet walls around him. Hissing, Taehyung bottomed out, his body shaking as his head hung low. You moan at the feeling of being stretched out but you quickly brought your hands to his hair, running your fingers through the locks soothingly as Taehyung half himself back from an orgasm. His breath was shaky as he looked up, his eyes falling upon you.

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” He mewled, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let out a needy moan, “I’m glad but can you please move?”

Something in him snapped before he brought a hand up to your neck, squeezing at the column, “Don’t boss me around, you fucking slut,”

You swallowed roughly, your pussy involuntarily clenched around his length, a pained moan passing his lips. Something in your snapped as well because you soon found yourself rolling your hips, trying to make any movement that made him feel worse. Letting an angry growl, Taehyung pushed himself up and grabbed your thighs before ramming himself in you over and over. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of him finally moving. His dick abused your g-spot with every thrust, making you see stars. He continued this brutal pace and you felt another build-up, your back slowly arching until you snapped, your walls fluttering around his length.

“Fuck,” He gasped, his hips stuttering as he rode you through your high.

His hips kept their pace and as you sunk back into the mattress, Taehyung sought out his high. Dropping one thigh, Taehyung hugged your other as he brutally smacked his hips against yours. You let out a soft whimper at the feeling of your body building up another orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” You sobbed, bringing your arm up to hang over your eyes.

“Fuck,”

Taehyung reached down, pressing two fingers firm against your clit as he rubbed furiously, his hips matching the speed. With a couple of more snaps of his hips, Taehyung yelled, his cum spurting into you. With another snap of his fingers, your orgasm rang through. His breath fanned against your chest as he rode out his high, your walls milking him dry. His body shook and suddenly his body fell on top of yours.

You immediately began raking your fingers through his hair, soothing the man whose body was shaking at the orgasm he just had. Pressing a soft kiss to your chest, Taehyung lifted his hips, his soft member falling out before he rolled over, your body missing his warmth.

“You are a kinky man,” You hummed, rolling to your side to face him.

He laughed, pushing his bangs off his forehead, “I’ve never cum that fast before,” He sounded fucked out himself and that made you giggle even more.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Taehyung pushed himself off the bed, shuffling his way to the bathroom before coming back with a cloth, cleaning you up gently. He went back to the bathroom but came back quickly, his bottom covered with new underwear and a shirt dangling from his fingers. Tossing the fabric to you, Taehyung rummaged through his closet, pulling out some grey sweats before handing them to you.

“Might need to stash you some clothes here,” He mumbled, shoving your feet through the pant's legs.

“Oh, so you expect me here more often?” You raised an eyebrow at the man who only raised one back.

“I would only hope so,”

You tugged at your gown, your nerves finally settling in. The art auction was slam packed, people buzzing about the pieces that were going to be on sale and the Grande Odalisque being one of the main pieces. Your hands were clammy as you neared the room, the cool metal of your gun feeling nice against your hot skin. Jimin and Hoseok were hot behind your trail, fitting in with the people around them. Seokjin’s extra men were piling in later, waiting for everyone to make their way in the room. The plan was simple: you were to auction as if you were going to buy, throw out some cash a couple of rounds and hope to snag Ademar.

“We’ll stand in the back, okay?”

You nodded at Jimin’s calming reassurance before taking a seat in the middle. Your eyes skipped around, trying to look for the devilish man but you didn’t see him, your heart falling. Rolling your eyes, you listen to the announcer.

“Five-hundred-thousand,” You called out to some random piece that you didn’t care for but another buyer called out higher.

Calling out a few more prices, your nerves began to get the best of you when you still haven’t seen the Odalisque. You were fixing to stand up but the feeling of someone sitting beside you made you stop. You were about to look until the feeling of a knife was placed underneath your thigh. Your breath hitched in your throat. Looking over, you noticed Ademar glaring back at you.

The announcer called out another painting, Ademar pressing the knife deeper into your leg, “Bid,” he demanded harshly.

“One-million won!” You shrieked.

Your ears were ringing, your nerves were on end until Jimin’s voice rang through.

“Taehyung’s in here,”

You let out a shaky breath. You felt eyes on the back of your head, knowing that it’s Taehyung’s and all you could do was shake, the pressure of the knife pressing deeper and deeper. Fortunately, the man called out the Grande Odalisque, your nerves heightening once more.

“You’re not going to win,” You whispered, looking over at the man.

His eyes raked over your face, “What do you—“

“Six-million won, that’s final,”

Everyone gasped, eyes falling onto Taehyung who walked up in the middle of the aisle. His eyes landed on Ademar who tried slipping out but Taehyung was quick to grab his arm, landing a solid punch in his face, Ademar slumping to the ground. Standing up, you pull out your badge.

“Ademar Boucher, you are under arrest for three counts of second-degree murder and for stealing,” You finished off the rest of his rights as Jimin and Hoseok brought him up to his feet, clamping the cuffs around his wrists.

Seokjin nodded his head at you before taking the man out. You felt an arm wrap around your waist and a soft kiss plant to your head.

“Why’re you so hot?” He chuckled, leading you out of the room as the room buzzed with confusion.

“You look hot,” You fired back, raising an eyebrow at the man.

Leading you to a counter, Taehyung paid for the piece and turned around, sending you a quick smile.

“Why did you buy the piece?” You questioned.

“So I can burn that piece of shit,”

You bellowed out a laugh as Taehyung led you out to your car. And as a man of his word, as soon as you both got back to his place, he threw the painting in his fire, the beautiful piece fading away as the fire ate it up.

“I’m so glad the case has finally closed,” You mumbled, brushing the fallen hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” He sighed, “me too. I don’t understand how you do this cop shit,” You laughed and kissed him quickly. Taehyung smiled down at you and brought you into a hug.

“I have a question,” He mumbled in your hair.

You pulled back, “What is it?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your cheeks flushed at the question. You had been waiting for this moment ever since the first moment you two had sex. He was everything you wanted in a man. He was beautiful, talented, and overall such a wonderful man.

To answer his question, you pull his thick folder out from your bag, tossing it into the fire, melting away with the thing that brought you together.

“Thank fucking god,”

It has been five months since the murder of Miss Choi closed. You’ve taken a break from the force for a month and spent the time with Taehyung but once that month ended you were back on your feet, solving cases and throwing people in prison; it’s what you loved. Ever since that case, Seokjin has placed you on more difficult cases, trusting that you will solve them because, after your wild ride with the Grande Odalisque, you were sure you could handle anything.

You and Taehyung have been going strong. He still did his thing and you did yours. Your sex life was out of this world and his love for you was unconditional and even though he wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s falling for you and he’s falling hard. You couldn’t blame him though, you were falling hard for him. Every day he surprised you and you found yourself canceling your contract with your renter and moving in with Taehyung. You spent most nights there anyways, moving more of your items in over a couple of months but he finally talked you into moving.

So, here you were laid up in bed with him, his arms wrapped around your waist as his head settled on your breast—just finishing from your third round of sex. Taehyung placed gentle kisses against your skin, his thumb grazing your skin. You both laid there in silence, soaking in the warmth and comfort of each other. The moment of silence ended however when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“Who is it?” Taehyung mumbled, not wanting to let you go but did. Your face dropped at the message, your heart falling to your ass.

From: Seokjin Ademar killed. Poison found in his blood.

Your phone dropped out of your hand, bringing both your hands up to your face to rub your eyes. If your eyes weren’t deceiving you then this was going to be a total fucking nightmare.

“What is it?” Taehyung mumbled looking at you.

“Time to go find another killer.”

Mischief, Meet Your Match - Chapter Fourteen (Loki x Reader)

WARNINGS: Violence, Swearing, Smut, Loki

SUMMARY:

Being caught in the cross hairs of The God of Mischief would scare a saner person but not you, you enjoy it. There’s just something about Loki that draws you to him, and you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. Tricking the Trickster is exhilarating but you quickly find yourself becoming attached to him as you’re unwillingly dragged on the adventure of a lifetime.

While The Avengers race to get you out of Loki’s clutches, you find yourself teaming up with him to try and defeat an enemy who threatens everything you hold dear.

When you’re tangled up with the God of Chaos, there’s no way of winning and it’s anyone’s guess which you’ll lose first, your heart or your life?

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen -  Outfitted For War

When one woke up with god of mischief hovering over them, a dagger in his hand, the sensible response wasn’t to yawn at him and lazily swipe his hand away.

 “Good morning Kitten.” He purred, teasing the skin under your ear with the tip of the blade.

 “Morning Mischief.” You sighed sleepily.

 There was a tugging motion on your scalp and Loki moved away from you, standing up.

“Did you just cut my hair?” You frowned.

 He held up a lock of your hair between his fingers and you grimaced.

“Why?” You asked in confusion, patting your head.

 Your fingers found a thin braid pleated into your hair, behind your ear and you pulled at it, studying the plait.

 “I’m sorry, is this some kind of Asgardian version of a friendship bracelet? Why have you braided a lock of your hair into mine?” You chuckled.

 “So I do not lose you.” He shrugged, dumping a tray of breakfast foods onto your lap while you sat up.

 You just looked at him until he graced you with a better explanation.

 “It is to ensure that I can locate you, no matter where you might end up. I will not be able to stay by your side on Asylum, this ensures I can find you again.” He elaborated.

 “Fair enough.” You shrugged.

 You were trying to act nonchalant about it but there was something strangely intimate about what he had done, in a primal way and it was making your heart pitter patter in your chest. You toyed with the braid while you picked up the goblet of coffee with the other hand and sipped happily at it.

 “Eat it all, you will need your strength.” He ordered in a tone that brokered no argument.

 You picked up a slice of toasted yellow bread and made a big show out of biting into it which seemed to satisfy him.

 “From what I was able to find out, Glahn-Betn not only still resides on Asylum but the army has grown considerably. We are running short on time to stop him.” He dictated.

 Guess you weren’t even allowed to finish eating before you moved into the pre-mission briefing. At least he had given you breakfast in bed, that was thoughtful.

 “Good thing we’re going now then.” You said once you swallowed a mouthful of fruit.

 “Tell me again what you must do.” He said tightly.

 That was when you realized it. Loki was nervous. Considering he wasn’t the one walking into danger, that meant he was nervous for you. You played along with him, trying to soothe his nerves by being as brisk and serious as you could be.

 “I need to fight for a place within the army and continue to impress them so I move up the ranks and swiftly. I need to be skilled enough to draw attention but not so much that Glahn-Betn will see me as a potential threat. Once I am high enough up in the ranks I start watching his movements and patterns until I find an opportunity to strike. Then I kill him and run as fast as I can.” You summarised.

 “You will need to lie about who you are, do not let them suspect you are from ‘Earth’. Show no signs of weakness or mercy, do not question your orders. Be a good soldier, obedient and loyal.”

 “Be strong but not too strong, be obedient but not mindless, be noticed but blend in. Be a walking contradiction, I’ve got it.” You assured.

 “Most importantly, be careful Kitten.” He reminded you.

 “Stop fretting mother hen. I know what to do, I’m prepared and I know the price if I fail.” You said, finishing off the last bite of food and washing it down with a swig of coffee.

 “Did you say goodbye?” He asked, nodding towards the door.

 “Yeah, you missed a hell of a party.” You sniggered.

 You had told Elder you were departing the next morning and the villagers had all come together to send you off. It had been a night of dancing around the flickering flames of a bonfire, hand in hand with the children you’d come to adore. You’d dutifully kneeled in the dirt and allowed people to say prayers to their gods on your behalf, your heart bursting with fondness and your eyes burning at the thoughtful gesture. You had drank cup after cup of amber liquor, proving to them that you had an inhuman tolerance for alcohol. You had laughed until your chest ached and danced until your head spun.

 At some point during the festivities you had been pulled into the blue grass with Elder, the sage old man clasping his hands with your own and offering you a departing piece of wisdom.

 “I don’t know what it is you are setting off to do but I can tell it weighs heavy on you Sky lady. It is clear you and your husband are warriors of a kind and knowing your heart as I do, I know whatever your cause, it is a righteous one. I wish you luck.”

 “Thank you.” You said softly, squeezing his hands.

 “We will miss you, you fit in well with us in a way few visitors have.” He mused kindly.

 “Maybe… Maybe I’ll return one day.” You said wistfully, hopefully.

 “You won’t. Your heart does not belong on this small corner of the universe, it belongs elsewhere. But I can see it is torn. You are stuck between who you are, who you want to be and who you think you should be.” He warned you.

 Were you an Avenger or an assassin? A hero or an anti-hero? Or were you something else entirely? Were you Captain America’s daughter or the God of Mischiefs friend and could you find a way to be both?

 “What do I do?” You asked, pleading with him to help you figure it out.

 “There is no easy answer. Perhaps you think I will tell you that you should be true to yourself, but that is such an easy answer and yet the most difficult thing to do. You must live Sky lady, live your life and make your choices as you go. Let love and loyalty guide you and never stay stagnant between two choices.” He advised.

 “I told you to rest.” Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

 “I did. Will you stop fussing and let me go wash up?” You laughed, clambering out of the bed and breezing past him, towards the bathroom.

 “Do not tarry, we leave as soon as you are ready.” He shouted through the door as you kicked it shut.

 You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it and pulled doff your tunic, turning the taps on.

 It was sweet in a way you didn’t think he would be sweet. But if even Loki was worried about you, how screwed were you?

 As you bathed you pondered the coming mission and tried to stuff your nerves into a box in your mind, locking them away as best you could.

 You felt like something was missing, like you were forgetting something, but you knew what it was. A patented Captain America pep talk, with added Stark sass peppered throughout. You’d never gone on a mission without one. You’d never ever done this alone.

 It didn’t feel right, not having Bucky hovering over you and checking all your weapons were properly loaded and holstered. You wanted Sam to come and double check you were hydrated and sneak chocolate bars into your pocket. You needed Clint to offer you a fistbump and a wink. You missed Wanda squeezing your hand, seeking assurance and offering it at the same time. You needed Nat to throw extra ammo at you and assess you with a discerning look before she gave a confident nod, telling you that you were ready. You even missed Tony blatantly complimenting how well the suit fit you while he side-eyed a seething Steve.

 You missed your family. You needed them.

 “You’re a grown ass superhero, you don’t need you daddy to come and tell you how to do this.” You hissed angrily, pulling yourself out of the water.

 You dried and dressed as quickly as you could, metaphorically beating your doubts into submission.

 Before you opened the door you took one last deep breath and readied yourself.

 “You can do this.” You vowed to yourself.

“I wish I had my Avengers suit with me. I feel stupid going off the warn in jeans and a t-shirt.” You grumbled as you walked back into the room.

 “I thought you might.” Loki said, tossing something at you.

 It was a long black coat, made of tough but smooth leather. It wasn’t quite Midgardian style, but it wasn’t quite Asgardian either. You looked up at him in surprise and he nodded towards the bed where the rest of the ‘outfit’ was lain out. There were a pair of tight leggings made of a similar material to you Avengers suit, a solid but breathable material, a leather corset with a surprisingly modest and high necklined undershirt and a pair of knee-high leather combat boots.

 You turned around to ask him where he’d gotten this and more importantly, to thank him but he was gone. Probably giving you privacy to change into it, so that’s what you did.

 No offence to Tony and his eye for design, but you felt infinitely more bad-ass and put together in this than in the skin tight combat suit he’d provided. The material of this outfit was tight, but not uncomfortably so and there was a lot of give in it, allowing for ease of movement. There was a holster along your spine that held Mischief securely and you found that it was incredibly easy to reach behind your head and pull it out or slide it back in. Slipping the heavy coat on you found that it didn’t hinder your movements either. You were dressed as a warrior but you didn’t outwardly appear to be so.

 You were outfitted like an assassin.

 You had to hand it to Loki, he’d done good. You might have expected him to dress you in green but he’d opted for all black, except for one very important detail. There was a flap of material over your torso that when peeled back revealed a fabric insignia sewn in. Unless they knew to look for it, nobody would find it. The emblem of Captain America’s Shield contrasted well against the black leather and in the centre, where the star usually resided, was the Avengers A. He’d had the foresight and kindness to make sure you had a symbol of home pressed to your heart. He’d probably had to swallow a lot of pride and distaste to do it as well.

 You strode out of the hut with a newfound confidence, your shoulder thrown back and your head held high. Loki looked up as soon as you walked through the doors and for a moment he froze.

 “How do I look?” You asked, holding your arms out.

 “Like someone to be feared.” He said with weight.

 He stepped forward and pulled open you coat, sliding an array of his own daggers into the attached sheaths.

 “Thank you, for all of it, but especially for this.” You whispered, tapping your chest where the secret insignia was.

 “They would be proud, if they knew the truth about all this. They would be proud of all you have done and all you will yet do.” He said dismissively.

 You hoped he was right.

 “After all, you made an ally of one of their greatest foes. Without bloodshed, without fighting, you have defeated me.” He added with a sassy smirk.

 “Are you defeated, Mischief?”

 “Without a doubt.” He said without hesitation.  

 He gently tugged your coat closed and looked down at you, his face startlingly close to yours while his arm slid around your waist for a heartbeat, you thought he was going to lean in kiss you but your hope was shattered when you saw the Tesseract in his hand and the ground disappeared from beneath your feet as the blinding blue light filled your vision.

 As soon as it cleared you were visually assaulted by a bevy of colours and a sycophancy of loud noises.

 “Ah, my eyes!” You winced, shielding them.

 Loki dragged you somewhere while you held your hand over your eyes and you didn’t dare look until your back met a wall. You opened them to see you were in some kind of small alcove down an alleyway and unable to resist, you peered out onto the street again.

 “What Fresh hell is this?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

 “This is Asylum.” Loki said stiffly.

 “Then why does it look like… well, the 80’s?” You asked.

 It looked like a Bizzaro version of Earth, all neon signs and fluorescent colours and more diverse than even The Distillers Planet had been in terms of different aliens you could see walking down the street. It looked like what you imagined the inside of Elton John’s brain looked like but with a fuckton more aliens, a murky yellow sky and…

 “Is that building made of bones?”

 It definitely was, and now that you were looking you could see it wasn’t the only one. Apparently Asylum was where the Stone Age hooked up with the 80’s for an acid-fuelled apocalypse party. After the peace and serenity of Clarius, it was a shock to your system.

 Loki tightly grabbed your elbow and tugged you around the corner again.

 “Follow this street until you see the recruitment base, you won’t miss it.” He said, refusing to meet your eyes.

 “Ok.”

 “Remember what you have to do Kitten. You’ll need to battle another recruit to gain a place in the army, from there you need to impress them enough to work your way up the ranks until you find yourself close to Glahn-Betn. I won’t be able to help you or advise you. You’ll have to use your own judgement.”

 “Fate of the universe depends on me using my brain… We’re all doomed.” You joked.

 “No we aren’t.” He snapped.

 Apparently he wasn’t in a joking mood.

 “I know what to do Mischief. I’ve got this.” You said with as much bravado as you could muster.

 You knew the plan, you knew what was required of you, all that was left was to see if you could pull it off. You took a step backwards, towards the alleyway and lighting fast, he grabbed you, pulling you back into the alcove and his hand closed around your wrist. You wanted to get on with it, to walk into the lions den before your nerve failed you. But in an ironic twist of events, Loki was the one in need of comfort and reassurance.

 “I’ll be alright Mischief. I’ve got this.” You promised, twisting your wrist out of his grasp and sliding your fingertips along his arm softly, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

 He exhaled forcefully and nodded stiffly at you.

 “I’ll be close by, as close as I can be without risking running into anyone who may know me but I will be disguised. Do not remove your braid for any reason, promise me.” He demanded.

 “I promise.” You said firmly.

 “If you do… our connection will be lost. I will have no choice but to assume you are dead.” He warned.

 And he’d flee Asylum was what was left unsaid at the end of that sentence.

 You bit your tongue. His eyes were flashing dangerously, almost overflowing with emotion and you knew that he wasn’t refusing because he wouldn’t do it, he was refusing because he didn’t want to entertain the idea of you failing.

 “See you on the other side. When the chaos starts, we meet back here.” You said with a note of finality, stepping away from him.

 Your heart was clenching painfully and the steady, overpowering thrum of your nerves were making you dizzy. A few more steps and you would be separated from him and even if you succeeded in your assassination there was a high chance you weren’t going to survive. This was likely a suicide mission, which meant that unless you were very lucky, this may be the last time you ever saw Loki. He had your goodbye letters for your family but you hadn’t said goodbye to him. You hadn’t said what needed to be said.

 Three words. Just three little words. You could say them and then leave with a clear conscience. You wouldn’t even have to wait around to find out if he would say them back, you didn’t need to take that chance. You could tell him what you so desperately wanted him to know.

 I know you could never love me back, I know that you don’t need the affirmation from a mortal but I love you. I love you so much it’s consuming me.

 “Mischief I…” You began.

 “Don’t.” He interrupted, snapping out the word angrily.

 “You will not say farewell to me Kitten, do not dare. Leave me as if you intend to return to me.” He demanded.

 He lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against yours and let out a shuddering breath.

 “Return to me.” He said, a plead and not a demand this time.

 For the first time you felt something like hope building inside you. His torn apart emotional state was so out of character for him that it was making you wonder, was all this fear and concern really just for a friends safety? Or was it possible he felt something more for you?

 “I will always return to you Mischief. Nothing could keep me away.” You swore.

 His grip on you tightened almost painfully before it gradually loosened and he stepped back. You nodded once, more to yourself than him and made to walk away.

 “Aren’t you forgetting something Kitten?” He asked.

 He looked at you blankly, his expression giving no hint as to what he was alluding to but somehow you just knew what he was asking for and it made you smile.

 Balancing on your tiptoes you reached towards him and the corners of his lips twitched as he leant down for you. At the last second you moved your head and the kiss you’d been about to place on his cheek landed purposefully on the corner of his mouth instead.

 “I’ll see you soon Mischief.” You breathed into his skin.

 You stepped away, walking backwards so you could hold his gaze. His eyes were dark with emotion as he stared after you, slack-jawed at your actions and with one last wave, you left the alleyway, stepping onto the street and you couldn’t see him anymore.

 You exhaled forcefully, your emotions spilling from you in a gust of breath as you turned around and started walking.

 The last time you’d been alone you had still been a regular human, wandering the world without a cause, living town to town. Now you were a superhero, with a family, with so much love in your heart that you could barely contain it. This was your first solo mission, the first time you didn’t have Bucky watching you through the scope of a rifle or Sam flying overhead. You didn’t have Steve stood beside you, shield in hand. You didn’t have Loki or his tricks keeping you safe.

 You were alone again, but this time you were on an Alien planet with the fate of billions resting on your shoulders. But you weren’t alone, not really. You had Loki in the shadows and The Avengers in your heart and unconsciously touching the braid in your hair, you realized you’d never felt stronger.

 You kept your eyes ahead, not wanting to look like an obvious tourist but even still, there was a lot to look at. While shopping wasn’t on the agenda, it was hard to resist peering into the stores you passed. Half of them looked like mystical apothecaries, and you were convinced you’d just walked past a blacksmith’s but there were a lot of strangely modern looking stores as well. You did a double take at what for all intents and purposes could essentially have been a Hot Topic, the alien edition.

There were Taverns and chic bars, a nightclub that you were itching to see the interior of, café’s and restaurants.

 It was a mind-bending blend of several Earth era’s and distinctly alien. When Loki had told you the whole planet was an Asylum like it had been named, you’d expected a neat, clinical, cold, militaristic atmosphere. This was the polar opposite and despite how jarring it was, it was kind of awesome in a Las Vegas way.  

 Not all of it nice. Not all of it was fantastical and wonderful. You steadfastly ignored everyone trying to engage with you but you were fairly certain that you knew exactly what was being offered when a thin, seven foot tall, green humanoid sidled up to you and asked…

 “Need a fix, you look like a being that needs a little fix.? I didn’t take mine, wanna make a deal?”

 You’d sidestepped him and kept walking but it left a chill in your blood. If this was an Asylum, a hospital, then where were the attendants? The Nurses? The Doctors? Who was looking after these people?

 Now that your attention had been drawn to it, you could see it everywhere. These creatures were sick. Blanks stares, nervous ticks, frenzied pacing, wailing and crying, agitated aggression… You could see people exhibiting signs everywhere you looked.  Once again you felt a surge of anger for Glahn-Betn. This planet was supposed to be a refuge for these people, a safe place. He had taken that from them, he had brought chaos to a planet that really couldn’t handle it.

 You quickened your pace. The sooner you got to the recruitment base, the sooner you could get on with your mission and carve that bastards chest open, just to see if he had a heart.

 Like Loki had promised, you couldn’t miss the base. You reached the end of the long street and there was a crossroads. Ahead, more of what lay behind you, to the right, the same. But to the left, down a winding hill, there was a fortress.

 At first glance you thought it was just a black mountain but your eyes adjusted and you could see it was man made, a collection of spires and towers carved from shiny black rock and surrounded by a moat. If this was an Asylum planet, that must be the maximum security ward. Before Glahn-Betn it must have housed the criminally insane and now it housed… the criminally insane. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach it, your heart picking up it’s pace as you drew closer and slipped into the crowds of people heading in the same direction.

 You had just stepped onto the black stone bridge over the moat when the sky rumbled above you and you looked up to see a humungous spacecraft descending towards the fortress.

 “Look, more conquests. Hope we get to fight one of the captives. Doubt they have much fight left in them.” An alien behind you sniggered.

 As the craft slowed down it’s flight and neatly hovered behind the fortress, landing behind it, you tried to decipher what the alien had just said.

 Conquests and captives. Glahn-Betn was waging war and forcing prisoners to fight for him. How many planets had already fallen to this tyrant? Why was nobody doing anything?

 You’d thought this was a madman attempting a sinister plot but it went far deeper than that. This was already full scale intergalactic terrorism. Even if you killed Glahn-Betn and put a stop to his plans, he had already done so much damage that couldn’t be undone. Not for the first time you started to think that you were in way over your head. How could you, one woman, bring down an entire regime?

 Because nobody would expect one woman to be stupid enough to try.

 And this wasn’t your plan, it was Loki’s. Even if you were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t doubt him. You had the blood of the greatest soldier of all time in your veins. You had been trained by literal gods, infamous assassins and the greatest minds your world had to offer.

 So you squared your shoulders, put on your metaphorical big girl panties and walked through the wide doors into the base.  

 The cavernous hall was bustling with activity. It was teeming with crowds of hopeful recruits, nervous recruits and guards. Ignoring them all you strode purposefully to the far side of the hall, to the lines of recruits being admitted through the doors into the heart of the fortress.

 You chose a longish line so you had time to study the admittance procedure. There were dozens of platforms raised slightly off the ground that were surrounded by a shimmering golden sphere, a force field of sorts. Every platform was manned by two guards apiece and, tall, statuesque, intimidating blue aliens with futuristic monitors in their hands. One by one the recruits stepped onto the platforms and had a short conversation with what you’d guessed were the recruitment officers. The platform you were in line for was manned by a beautiful blue woman with a stiff posture and eye catching black splotches on her skin.

 As you got closer you could hear what she was saying and as you watched carefully, a man who could easily have been human stepped onto the platform.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?” She asked robotically.

 The man looked around desperately, his jaw clenched. The woman leaned forward with a hard gaze, as if she was finally interested.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?” She asked again, harshly.

 “Reconnaissance for the Nova Corps.” He spat out, looking terrified when he realized what he’d said.

 He made a run for it but he didn’t even get one step away before he was shot, his body thumping to the ground. Someone grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of the sphere while the woman ignored it, looking at the next recruit in line who stepped into the sphere without care.

 You subtly studied the sphere and put the pieces together in your mind. It was some kind of truth field, it must be. Which meant that nobody could lie when they joined the army, you couldn’t lie.

 Shit.

 You ground your teeth as the line moved forwards, mentally trying to solve this puzzle before you were called into the sphere. All to soon, you were at the front of the line and as a hulking creature was waved to the other side, having passed the recruitment questions, you had no choice but to calmly step onto the platform. The field caused no sensation as you walked through it and if you couldn’t see it, you wouldn’t have known it was there. The woman looked at you with cold disinterest as you stepped up in front of her.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?”

 “I’m here to work my way up the ranks of the army, to prove myself, so I can make my father proud.” You said smoothly.

 “Name?”

 “They call me Kit.” You said.

 Well it was true, some people did on occasion call you Kit.

 “What planet are you from?”

 “Clarius.”

 You had just come from there.

 “Race?”

 “I’m the result of an experiment.” You said quickly, thinking fast on your feet and stretching the truth as far as you could without breaking it.

 She didn’t blanche, just swiped something on the monitor.

 “Give me your wrist.” She said, holding her hand out impatiently.

 She snapped a black band onto your wrist and after a moment it flickered orange.

 “We do not provide weapons to recruits, if you did not bring your own, tough.”

 “I brought my own.” You assured her.

 “Through the doors, find the corridor that corresponds to your band. If you observe any rituals or pray to any deities or gods then do so now, you’ll be dead by the end of the day.” She said dismissively.

 You’d just stepped outside of the truth field but at her words you stopped and stepped backwards, back into the sphere.

 “No, I won’t.” You said confidently, looking her in the eye.

 You walked away, allowing yourself a quick triumphant grin. You’d done it, you were in. Now the hard part began.  

A/N - I know the last chapter was a bit of a filler chapter that was there to point the plot in the right direction but I hope this makes up for it and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

We're in the thick of it now, Kitten's got some trying times ahead of her. Wish her luck! (And wish me good luck in writing it!)

P.S - I think I’ll be stopping the gifs at the beginning of each chapter from here on in and maybe I’ll make a mood-board to use instead. Or maybe I’ll use gifs that relate to the chapter and aren’t always Loki ones. Or maybe just stick with what I’m doing right now. Thoughts??

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Just Friends

❛ pairing | Ivar x Reader, Ragnar x Ivar (platonic)

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | Ragnar knows when a boy is looking to lose his virginity. Not with that one, Ivar won’t.

❛  warnings | Ragnar never leaves AU, virginity talk, sex, Ragnar being a creep

❛ sy’s notes | For daddies den I wanted to ask if you could write a head canon or imagine about how the relationship btw Ragnar and his sons would be if he never have abandoned them and what kind of dad he would be to them? I picked Ivar because I’m biased, obviously. not my gif

“They agreed?”

“Ubbe and my brothers are bringing her to me tonight,” Ivar attenuates his words. It’s not as if he hasn’t detected the longing in your voice, but you deserve better.  “Father’s old cabin.”

You stop your process of mending Ivar’s glove. You set down the iron awl, having made a new hole, and smile to him. The tool is forgotten. You pick up heavy skirts and kneel before him on the ground. “Then you’ll no longer be a virgin.”

Tch, Ivar makes a small noise of distaste. He shifts in his chair, sitting upright. There’s a moment where he considers it. As if his virginity is some precious fucking package Margrethe didn’t deserve. You resist the urge to smile at his upturned nose. “No woman wants a virgin for a husband.”

“I do,” You say without prompting, unsurprised of the way you speak. Ivar knows your feelings. He’s rejected them in the past. This again, Ivar folds his firm muscles one over another. His voice scrapes. Were you offering yourself in marriage?

“No.”

It’s something of a shock when you stand up, tucking your hair behind your ear. You pick up his leather gloves, rushing back when he calls your name out. “My brother will be in to let you look at the war picks you commissioned of him.”

This was why making friends with women was a mistake. They were-- so clingy.

Margrethe is more than a body to Ivar.

She’s a symbol of manhood. All of her brothers had her, shared her between one another. To be a man, he was sure he needed to do the same. Although he never had a woman, Ivar was sure that this woman would be perfect to absentmindedly fuck.

Ivar’s hands dig up dirt past the pig pens on the outside of town. That is as far as he gets— because his father dug him up from the ground, tossing him upon his shoulder like the squealing pig he was. Cussing and growling as he were, Ragnar held his child close to his chest as he starts in the direction opposite of the forest with a sway in his aged step.

Almost like a child.

“Father-- put me down!”

His father brings him to a cabin where he sets him upon a bed, the warm furs heated by a flame in the middle of the room. His nostrils flare and he sucks in a breath. It smells of her. He thought for a moment that he could get away from your sweet smell, marked with honey from the harvest and brew of mead for this season.

“Father,” the air punches out of his chest. “I cannot--”

The words are cut off when everything seems to fade away. His apprehension, his father, it was just you-- standing there. A vivid purple flower clips behind your ear, corn cockle. He holds your gaze as you pick up the bottom of a thin dress. Your nipples peek at him through the fabric, coming closer to sit beside him. Fully ensconced, his gaze snaps back to his father. His mouth opens, but no words come out.

“I…”

His father bends at Ivar’s level, his hands upon his shoulders. “You should lose your boyhood with someone that would treasure it, my son.”

“It’s that-- important?” Ivar husks. Your hand wanders, slipping over his firm thighs. He considers Ragnar with a slow raise of his head and a sardonic smile. “Or are you saying this because I’m a cripple?”

Ragnar’s icy eyes keep his, challenging him back. His father has always been intensely concerned with his manhood. Aslaug constricted him so tightly as a child. Despite his father always being there, there were scarce opportunities to rejoice in being a boy. Being a man, like his father, was all he could wish for.

“I’m saying this because you were about to waste it on a slave that looks at you in disgust.” Ragnar reminds him of the obvious. “Now shut up,” that’s obviously where his brother got it from, “...and kiss her.”

He told you no.

But now, he can’t deny that you look… right. Like he expected of his first time with a girl. Your hand slips under his shirt. The muscles shift when he inhales, skin heated. His bright eyes are shy and he hangs his head, struggling to make any sort of lead. Ragnar offers you his hand, guiding you to straddle his young boy.

Your hands glide over his chest, relieving him of his woolen tunic. You stroke your hands over his short, thick hair and down his neck, toward his collar, where the flicker of the flames bounces off the charm of his necklace and against his well-tanned skin.

He’s apprehensive, you can tell. He’s scared you won’t want him the same. That this is all a ruse. You soothe your hand down his chest, slipping to unwind the tie keeping his trousers up. Ragnar takes a step back. “Friends,” you say.

Ivar looks up, then, your other hand firmly holds his head with gentle pressure. You lean in to kiss him with open lips, tracing your tongue along the seam of his lips. He gasps through his first kiss, damning your tongue to trace his. Ivar has never done this before, but you have. Your hips grind against his, causing one of his hands to leave supporting his body on the bed to pull your hips over his.  He wonders just where you’ve learned to kiss, and the thought instills some foreign emotion of fury. Who was touching you-- you pull back, leaving him with an intense, half-lidded look you never saw upon him before.

“We don’t have to complicate this. We can stay just friends.”

Ivar’s soulful, deep eyes look into yours. That proud, arrogant boy you know is gone. A shy, hopeful boy in his place. Your fingers thread through his, hips beginning to grind on his for emphasis. His son nods.

Ragnar slips out the door.

@supernaturalvikingwhore @generic-fangirl @unassumingviking @babypink224221 @multi-fandom-fanfiction @beautifully-quixotic @tomarisela @alicedopey @candyheartsandcigarettes @majikpyrohades @p8tn0lish @naaladareia @allvikingsfanfic @bat-fam-blob @vikingwolfsworld23 @notyouaveragegirl @ladywolf44005

Meow

REAL LIFE

COUPLE TBS X READER

RATING ADORABLE + KINDA FLIRTY

I forced myself up from the cosy blue sofa pushing off my soft blanket as I did, standing for a moment on the wooden floor stretching as my legs had gone to sleep. The sun setting across the garden just now dipping under the shed, the grass in the garden stretching out where it needed cutting rather desperately, a few little tools on the patio and an area that was blue where someone was spray painting last week. 

I paused the TV show I was watching catching my own reflection in the golden mirror, my skin a little pale and sickly where I was so tired. The little fire glowing it's artificial flames, I turned walking along towards the staircase picking up a blue and grey shirt that had fallen from the banister, I headed to the kitchen turning on the bright white light seeing the reflection on the white and black tiles as I headed over to the oven, I saw the little meal set out with cooking instructions written on the top on post it notes 

"In case I'm home late x" 

I went over to the little red popcorn machine turning it on and getting a big bowl, slowly letting it fill with popcorn. As soon as it was full I turned off the machine and headed back to the sofa wrapping myself up in the blanket again, I checked the time on the clock above the dining table. It was getting late, I wondered where he was. 

I began to eat while I watched my show, my tummy bubbling each time I ate. 

I sat watching my show for a good while until I heard a familiar little

"Meow" come from upstairs, something must have woke her, I kept hearing her and I was about to go check on her till I saw the little tabby cat walk down the stairs and sit at the screen door looking out to the garden meowing, I laughed checking the time she's a smart little cat.

She suddenly got more excited, her tail moving around a lot as she ran to the window next to the front door and I began to hear that rumble.

The sound that echoes across the busy London streets even more so when it comes down the quiet little road it starting slow getting louder and louder 

"Meow! Meow!" She began putting her paws on the glass of the window 

"Awww what's that noise coco?" I asked 

"Meow!" 

"Aww do you know that noise?" I laughed "that noise means daddy's home?" I smiled "Hu? That's your daddy?" 

The rumbling got louder and so did her meows, I saw the light in the front window and she bolted to the garage door scratching it and meowing loudly 

"Aww coco is that daddy coming home?" I smiled as the noise got so much louder behind me before suddenly shutting off, I smiled getting up and sorting my little dress as I heard things moving around in the garage, until the door opened to the familiar blondie, 

Stood in his motorcycle boots still but having undone them a little his tight blue jeans with the obviously bulges for his phone and wallet in his pockets, his little blue t shirt on and his black and white shirt over the top of it, his heavy leather motorcycle jacket undone but still on, his hair a mess from his helmet as he tried desperately with his hands to fix it.

He spotted the little cat and scooped her up in his arms holding her close to his chest 

"Umm hello my sweet little girl, yes hello, aww my sweet little kitty did you miss me?" He laughs while our little cat licked his face all over 

"Meow"

"Aww I missed you too my sweet little girl" he smiled giving her head a kiss 

I stood a little sadly, he saw and put coco down giving me a cuddle too "hi honey"

"Hi Thomas" I smiled hugging him tightly 

"Did you miss me too?" He laughs

"If course I did" I giggled giving him a kiss which he happily kissed back 

"I missed you too" he smiled fixing my hair for me "you had dinner yet?" He asks going to the front door slipping his Jacket off and hanging it up leaning on the dinning table to get his boots off 

"No, I was waiting for you" I admit 

"Y/n, I keep telling you not to wait for me," he says coming over and holding my hand "I even made your dinner up for you" he says 

I was about to speak but

"And don't say you don't know what to do because I left instructions, you need to stick to your dinner time honey, for little one" he says stroking my tummy

"I just don't like eating without you" 

"Okay, we'll figure something out" he says "how has little one been today anyway?" He asks still stroking my tummy

"Kicky" I complained

"Well you are seven months pregnant honey I'd be a little concerned if it wasn't kicking" he laughs kissing my head "come on I'll make you dinner" He smiled tugging my hand with him to the kitchen, he lifted me up and sat me on the counter top while he got working on dinner 

"She hears you turn off the roundabout" i laughed 

"Does she?" He laughs

"She does, she starts meowing as soon as you go around the roundabout, and then she hears you the whole way down till you get to the road then all the way down the road to the house" I laughed 

"It's a loud bike" he shrugs "it happens with old rickety bikes they make a lot of noise" he explained as he worked "and they vibrate don't they honey" he smirked 

"Shut up" I argue playfully kicking him 

"I'm not saying anything I'm simply saying that bike tents to vibrate because it's older, that's all I'm saying" he smirked 

"And you decided to take me on that one rather than your nice new one for that exact reason" I complain 

"I thought you'd like the older bike" he smirked cuddling me "how was I meant to know all the vibration would make my little honeybun cum on the back of my bike" he smirked kissing my neck 

"You knew, you just didn't want to tell me" I complained pushing him away 

"I didn't know, I knew it was something that bike did, I knew it was something people had said about that make of bike, and I knew it was a possibility, I didn't know for sure it would make you cum" he explained 

"Still" I sighed "I would have appreciated a warning"

"And I had way more fun not telling you" he winked "you wanna take it out Saturday?" He smirked 

"I am pregnant" I remind

"You can ride a motorcycle pregnant" he shrugs 

"No you can't" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive Thomas" I laughed

"Aww okay, we'll go for a ride in the car Saturday then" he smiled, kissing my head as he cooks. 

The Comic and the Bartender

.[A/N] Hey peeps! I decided to write a 1950scomedian!anna au because I was inspired by this post from @awesomemaple and I’ve been wanting to write a 1950s Kristanna au for awhile. I also love The Marvelous Mrs. Masiel  I hope you all enjoy!!!

[A/N 2] I know I can do better with titles but it’s 1 AM and I have class tomorrow

Rated: M? (There’s cursing and lots of innuendo, along with some violence/blood)

WC: 2.8k

Pairing: Kristanna (as always)

Anna wiped her pale hands down the full skirt of her green dress as she sat in the back corner of the bar. Her hands were clammy as she always were before a set. Even though she plays at her favorite dingy downtown bar at least once a week and is well loved there, those stage fright nerves still come and bite a good half hour before she goes on. Pulling her magenta leather notebook from her purse, Anna took a deep breath as an attempt to center herself. She opened it up and caught a glimpse of the first page where she had scribbled out the word COMEDY in bold black letters. 

Kristoff ducked behind the bar and got to work. Before he knew it, there were people asking left and right for different concoctions of alcohol. Sven had the shift before him and he was a real slacker, always telling people he would “get to them in a minute,” but never actually did. It was a small venue but damn, did people downtown like to drink. But when he got a free moment, he glanced over at Anna, a comedian who claimed this as her home club, and give her a thumbs up when she eventually caught him looking at her. She would flash him a million dollar smile and he would blush. He felt like a school boy.  

Kristoff loved helping Anna with her sets. Some days, he would look forward to coming to work just so she could test a few new jokes out on him, even if they needed work at first. There was nothing he loved more than when they would be alone before the club opened, while she had worked on some new jokes on the stage with him as her only audience member. 

“And that is how I got kicked out of my first- and last- Debutante ball!” Anna announced with a smile to her single-person audience earlier that day. Her ending was a tad shaky, but she always got a little nervous around Kristoff. She didn’t know why but she could get in front of hundreds of people no problem but he always shook her up like a snow globe.

“A-Anna…” Kristoff said coming off of a big laugh. She was hilarious. He calmed down and looked at her nervously, “Anna that joke will get you arrested.”

“I know,” she said with an alarmingly light air, “but it’ll be worth it.”

He sighed while shaking his head. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed down the warm feeling in his chest. He just didn’t want to see her get hurt. 

Kristoff had seen comics from all over New York, but he knew she had something special. Knowing this, he had tried not to get too hung up on her. She was going to make it big, and everyone who saw her knew that.

After exchanging smiles with Kristoff, her favorite bartender, Anna directed her attention back to her leather bound notebook. She carefully reviewed her set as she had a time or two before this moment, she liked to keep herself fresh, and tried desperately not to dwell too much on exactly what she was going to say. Overthinking usually equated bombing to her, which was not convenient for a worrier like herself. The feisty redhead liked to have the words just flow out of her, most of the time that worked in favor, and other times it certainly did not. The walls of the 8th Precinct’s holding cell were only slightly familiar to her.

In 1957, a comic’s use of free speech was not exactly favored by the law, much less a woman comic’s use of free speech. Just the fact that Anna Arendelle was a woman on a stage that wasn’t singing and doing a little dance already had the police ready at the door, eyeing her, just waiting for her to say one small obscene thing. 

It drove her mad.

In that moment, while lost in thought, Anna felt a tap on her shoulder. “Anna?” The club’s runner, Mattias snapped her out of her own little world with a slight smile. He was like a father figure to her, considering he was the one to get her to start doing comedy in the first place, and her real father was stuck in the haze of New York’s finest socialites. “Anna, you’re up after this guy,” He pointed to a man on stage doing some somber slam poetry that somehow involved a slide whistle and a set of bongos. She chuckled and gave him a nod. 

To get her mind off of overthinking her set, she touched up her nude pink lipstick and straightened out the skirt of her dress. For a woman comic, being pretty was a part of the job. If you didn’t look presentable that day, you automatically weren’t funny.

Before she knew it, time was up and Mattias was on the stage smiling at her, “Without further ado, the funny lady we all know and love here at The North Mountain, Anna Arendelle everybody!” The crowd erupted the applause and whistles as she climbed up onto the small stage at the intimate venue. Kristoff had let out a “Go Anna!” from behind the bar. She smiled at him and waved at him shyly with flushed cheeks. He turned as red as a beet.

Anna hid her slight nervousness behind a smile as she took the microphone in her hand. “Good evening downtown!” The crowd let out their last few cheers as Anna began her set.

“So believe it or not I used to be a debutante,” she paused, “yeah, let’s say I’m not surprised that doesn’t get a response downtown.” People giggled, and she beamed. It got her started. “My father is some- well I don’t know what my father actually does. Do any of us know what our father’s actually do? I mean everyone has probably asked what their fathers do for a living and they’ll usually just go,” Anna put on a deep, gruff voice, ‘You wouldn’t understand’.” She put a confused look on, switching back to her normal voice, “I see some of the people in the audience have never experienced this, well that my friend, is because you are men. And work is men to men talk. But do you know what isn’t men to men talk? A debutante ball. All the men have to do with that is hand the checkbook to their wives. Which is an unfortunate societal standard for women, but I did not come here tonight to lecture you all the sexism that is pervasive in our society.”

There were always people rushing to the bar for a drink on Saturday nights, but all of that stopped when Anna got on stage. She captivated everyone’s attention with a single smile. Including Kristoff’s. With no one bugging him for an extra dry martini or another pint of beer, he could put all his undivided attention on her. She looked gorgeous up there with her fiery red hair and eyes as blue and vibrant as the sky on a warm spring day. Sometimes, she would look over at him for reassurance and his stomach would suddenly be home to hundreds of butterflies. He always tried his best to give her a thumbs up and a smile. She would press on and he would continue to be captivated by her. 

“So the whole thing with a Debutante Ball is everyone has to seem as perfect as possible even though we know all know everyone’s families are utter messes, like how Rachel was definitely sleeping with her dog sitter and her husband didn’t know. Or how my best friend Olaf single handedly spent over a thousand dollars of his daddy’s money in one day. Or how I was the most obscene Debutante in the history of New York City.” the crowd laughed along with her.

“Or at least I was in comparison to my sister, Elsa. You see my sister is the most… hmm, what's a good word… stoic! Yes, that’s a good word, the most stoic person I have ever met. She just does what she is supposed to and moves on. Like a normal person. I am incapable of that, however. I would constantly be making quote unquote ‘inappropriate jokes’ about people I shouldn’t have been. Well, jokes on them, that’s what I do for a living now!” Everyone laughed along with her, which was no surprise. In that moment, officers arrived at the door. Anna didn’t notice at first, but Kristoff did, he automatically was braced himself for the worst. His happy disposition switched to one of a gruff bartender.

“Officers!” Anna said, making the audience whistle, “You arrived just in time, I’m getting to the good stuff!” They took a step towards the stage, “Ah ah ah! I haven’t said anything obscene yet.” They grumbled and waited, handcuffs at the ready. Kristoff kept his eyes locked on them. She wouldn’t purposefully be more obscene, would she?

“Anyway! Before I was rudely interrupted,” the crowd laughs in response. They weren’t the ones about to get arrested, so it wasn’t their problem. Anna looked over at Kristoff as he mouthed the words “be careful” with pleading eyes. A flame shot up in her chest. Why did he make her feel this way? She couldn’t decide what to do, but she went with her gut. She kept going. It was almost too late now anyway.

“Let’s make a long story short, I had a fling with the man of the Military Academy escorting me,” the crowd ooo-ed and aah-ed at a woman being so upfront with her sexuality. The officers warmed up their handcuffs in the doorway. Kristoff had heard this joke before, but it was still a little shocking. I mean, he had sex with other people too, so it wouldn’t be a problem if they decided- what was he thinking?! She is going to be a star, not… getting together with me, he thought. There are more important things to worry about right now.

“I’m still not sure how it happened, we were at the rehearsal ball and he said to me: ‘You look gorgeous in white’ and I said ‘I think you’d be gorgeous with your clothes off’.” The crowd gasped and laughed. The officers approached the stage and Anna braced herself, starting to skirt away from them a bit. “My mouth has always been great at moving faster than my mind, if you couldn’t tell. And in case you’re wondering, he thought so too.” Kristoff laughed but watched nervously from behind the bar.

Anna made her way around the club, mic still in hand as the officers gave her slight chase, “If it makes anyone feel any better, he then continued to screw me over for a year afterwards! In more ways than one! Neither of them good! I’m Anna Arendelle, goodnight!” The crowd stood up and erupted with cheers for her, which she had to admit, still felt good despite the circumstances.

The cops finally grabbed her by the arms as she slowed down, and they put her in handcuffs, causing her to drop the mic on the floor without warning. The audience continued to cheer despite them roughing her up, her updo coming undone. She screamed as they tugged at her hair by “accident.”

How are the cheering? Kristoff thought as he ducked from behind the bar. “Anna!” He called out from the other side of the dim club. Without thinking, he ran over to the situation, ripping the officer off Anna. “Don’t touch her like that!” He shouted in his face as he punched the officer in the nose. Anna gasped along with the rest of the bar.

“Kristoff!” Mattias shouted from behind the podium, “Damnit!” Mattias ran to the fallen microphone, over all the commotion, “Give us one moment for technical difficulties!” Before he could do anything, Kristoff was already in handcuffs next to Anna. Mattias couldn’t help but facepalm.

“I see you want to take a trip down to the station with your little chickadee here!” The officer shouted in his face.

“I am not a chickadee!” Anna struggled to get the words out as she was a bit out of breath. Kristoff was a bit taken aback that she didn’t say he wasn’t his chickadee. Kristoff, more important things to worry about, and she’s not your chickadee anyway! He thought to himself.

Before they knew it, Anna and Kristoff were in the back of a cop car together, in uncomfortable silence. The car smelled like cheap fake leather seats and marijuna. He really stood up for me, Anna smiled at the thought, then over at him. She couldn’t say she was surprised, Kristoff was the kindest, most caring man she had ever met.  

“Thank you,” Anna mouthed at him, softening the harshness of the shared silence. 

“Anytime, feisty pants,” He mouthed then smiled back. Little did they know, both of their hearts were bursting and their stomachs full of butterflies. She didn’t know someone standing up for her for her could feel so... nice. She had always been defending herself as a woman comic. 

When they got to the fluorescent lit 8th Precinct, the two officers- one with a dried bloody nose, had made the mistake of putting the two of them in holding cells next to each other. The two of them sat next to each other on cold, metal benches with only a cold set of bars separating them. 

They talked the night away, Anna rambling on, cracking joke after joke, while Kristoff played along and would even joke with her. Both of them were suddenly more nervous around the other- well more than normal anyway. 

Anna could not stop thinking about how handsome he looked in this light, well in every light actually. Along with that, her mind would not stop racing with how amazing he was to her. Oh my God, do I like him? She thought. Jesus, of course I do! Oh God, oh fuck. What if he doesn’t like me back? For once, her mind was moving faster than her mouth.

Kristoff could not get over how gorgeous her hair looked down. He didn’t think he had ever seen it down. He was imagining seeing in down every morning waking up by her side, but then soon chased the thought away with the same reminder he had been giving himself for months that she was going to be big one day, and didn’t have time for someone like him.

As the two of them snickered and kept having instances of longing eye contact, or their hands brushing through the bars, a new officer came in to unlock their cells. “Your bail has been posted,” he sighed.

Anna smiled at him, “Thank you Daniel.” Kristoff didn’t know if he should chuckle or be concerned at the fact that she had been here enough times to know the guards name.

The two of them walked down the stairs, giggling and joking just as they had all night, just to stop dead in their tracks at the sight of Mattias. After a moment of silence, both of them started profoundly apologizing at the same time. 

Before either of you say anything,” he stopped them from speaking further, “I’m not mad, I think both of you did the right thing. But just know that this came out of both of your paychecks. I’ll see you both tonight. On time.” He softened his face and smiled, “I’m proud.” And without another word, Mattias left. That was probably for the best.

They glanced at each other. Anna looked up at the light pouring through the windows. It was already morning. 

“Hey, are you hungry by any chance? Do you want to get breakfast?” Anna played with her fingers and looked up at him with a soft face, “like… not as friends?” She paused, reading his face. “W-wait! Not like, we’re not friends but like… we’re more than friends? I didn’t mean to-”

“Anna, that sounds amazing,” Kristoff felt his stomach do a happy backflip, “I would love nothing more.” He held out his hand for her at the exit. “Are you ready?”

Anna nodded eagerly and took his hand, “Yeah, I’m ready.” They both had a feeling she was talking about more than breakfast. “I told you getting arrested was worth it.”